Out of Context
"Sometimes, a child's laughter frightens me." - F. Hölderlin
Life's course has come to an end. Before you've even had a chance to manifest yourself, a resumé, full of impressive positions, is required. Love-engagement-marriage has been replaced by a patchwork of afflictions, such as coming out, crisis, relapse, and a second or third childhood. One no longer gets down to promoting one's career: It simply takes too long, and who knows what things will be like five years from now. With linearity broken, the accumulated past no longer offers a foothold. The best thing to do is to take courage and make a new start. Feel free to forget or deny your personal biography. The betrayal of friends, party, creed, family, and business is a litmus test to prove your ability to keep up with the rest. Professed loyalties have turned out to be nothing but a décor in which to watch time go by. The past is merely today's overture; it does not interfere with the current future. Looking back now, past commitments turn out empty and meaningless. Been there, done that, time to move on. What on earth have I got left to say to those people? All change is no more than a dietary variation in an unchangeable existence. There isn't any experience left waiting to be articulated. On close examination, people experience nothing whatsoever anymore. Biographies constitute a tactical standstill, a drama without movement. Life, above all, is a matter of inner experience. We bathe in a profusion of interpretations, whether to do with suppressed lives, automobile makes and holiday destinations, or domestic problems. The last anchors to cling to are the collective childhood experiences, enlarged to mythic proportions: the pop concerts, parties, summer camps, military service, a strike or a riot, a soccer championship, campsites, and favorite pubs back then. These scant experiences of life make up the ground material for one's debut presentation. The 25-year-old bestseller author already looks back on a libertine life, feeling free to deny our fettered existence like another Proust. A loop is created, from the past which meant nothing to a future that will have nothing to offer. Existence without context is condemned to the present, the available and the possible. No breakout, no despair, not a dream. Success is not a triumph but a necessity; otherwise, what story would one have to tell? There's no mistaking it: You are only rewarded for the risks you are prepared to take. Once out of context, actions become indefinable. Any will power or ambition that is brought to bear is arbitrary. There are no external, urgent necessities to justify choices of profession, hobbies, or partners; no force or coercion to render life evident. Thus, everything must come from within. There, all is barren, empty and cold. Thus, actions take on the character of a flight forward: a submission to fate, sought anywhere one can, without ever finding a thing. The result is the diversified extremism of workaholics, Doctors Without Borders, the Guinness Book of World Records, raves, mountaineering and bungee jumping. Backlash effects consist of disablement, senior workouts, walker shopping, insomnia, chronic fatigue, agoraphobia and incontinence - including the accompanying therapy package.
"Sometimes, a child's laughter frightens me." - F. Hölderlin
Life's course has come to an end. Before you've even had a chance to manifest yourself, a resumé, full of impressive positions, is required. Love-engagement-marriage has been replaced by a patchwork of afflictions, such as coming out, crisis, relapse, and a second or third childhood. One no longer gets down to promoting one's career: It simply takes too long, and who knows what things will be like five years from now. With linearity broken, the accumulated past no longer offers a foothold. The best thing to do is to take courage and make a new start. Feel free to forget or deny your personal biography. The betrayal of friends, party, creed, family, and business is a litmus test to prove your ability to keep up with the rest. Professed loyalties have turned out to be nothing but a décor in which to watch time go by. The past is merely today's overture; it does not interfere with the current future. Looking back now, past commitments turn out empty and meaningless. Been there, done that, time to move on. What on earth have I got left to say to those people? All change is no more than a dietary variation in an unchangeable existence. There isn't any experience left waiting to be articulated. On close examination, people experience nothing whatsoever anymore. Biographies constitute a tactical standstill, a drama without movement. Life, above all, is a matter of inner experience. We bathe in a profusion of interpretations, whether to do with suppressed lives, automobile makes and holiday destinations, or domestic problems. The last anchors to cling to are the collective childhood experiences, enlarged to mythic proportions: the pop concerts, parties, summer camps, military service, a strike or a riot, a soccer championship, campsites, and favorite pubs back then. These scant experiences of life make up the ground material for one's debut presentation. The 25-year-old bestseller author already looks back on a libertine life, feeling free to deny our fettered existence like another Proust. A loop is created, from the past which meant nothing to a future that will have nothing to offer. Existence without context is condemned to the present, the available and the possible. No breakout, no despair, not a dream. Success is not a triumph but a necessity; otherwise, what story would one have to tell? There's no mistaking it: You are only rewarded for the risks you are prepared to take. Once out of context, actions become indefinable. Any will power or ambition that is brought to bear is arbitrary. There are no external, urgent necessities to justify choices of profession, hobbies, or partners; no force or coercion to render life evident. Thus, everything must come from within. There, all is barren, empty and cold. Thus, actions take on the character of a flight forward: a submission to fate, sought anywhere one can, without ever finding a thing. The result is the diversified extremism of workaholics, Doctors Without Borders, the Guinness Book of World Records, raves, mountaineering and bungee jumping. Backlash effects consist of disablement, senior workouts, walker shopping, insomnia, chronic fatigue, agoraphobia and incontinence - including the accompanying therapy package.
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