Caminhando...
"Caminhando, escapamos à própria ideia de identidade, à tentação de ser alguém, de ter um nome e uma história. Ser alguém é bom para os serões mundanos, durante os quais cada um fala de si, é bom para os consultórios de psicólogos. Contudo, não constituirá ainda a ideia de ser alguém uma obrigação social que subjuga (obrigamo-nos a ser fiéis ao nosso retrato), uma ficção estúpida que nos pesa sobre os ombros? A liberdade ao caminhar é a de não sermos ninguém, porque o corpo que anda não tem história — apenas uma corrente de vida imemorial. Assim, seja eu um animal de duas patas que avança, uma força pura entre as grandes árvores, um mero grito. Amiúde, ao caminhar, gritamos para expressar a nossa presença animal recuperada. Sem dúvida, nesta grande liberdade exaltada pela geração dilacerada de Ginsberg ou Burroughs, nessa ostentação de energia que deveria rasgar as nossas existências e fazer explodir os sinais de referência dos submissos, a caminhada nas montanhas constituía um meio entre outros, outros que incluíam as drogas e o álcool, as pândegas, as orgias, mediante as quais se tentava alcançar a inocência.
No entanto, ela deixa entrever um desafio: caminhar enquanto expressão de recusa de uma civilização podre, poluída, alienante, mesquinha."
Caminhar, Uma Filosofia, de Frédéric Gros
Beliefs
"The worst of this group of saints, martyrs, angels, archangels, and other imaginary creatures seems to be an individual named Jesus Christ, who never existed but in spite of this fact did many things he should not have. He said:"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's," in other words, he was in favor of man's exploitation of man. He was in favor of adultery ("that means your daddies leave their wives and run around like idiots after other women"), since he didn't do anything about the loose woman who was caught committing adultery. They say he was born of a virgin, that means a pure woman, you see, but that is what shows Jesus Christ is a myth, the opiate of the people, because other false saints and gods appeared to be born from virgins. "In fact, children, let me tell you what happened, what a professor of philosophy taught us during training: Jesus's mom got into trouble with one Pantera, a Roman soldier, and when she ended up pregnant, she had to get married quickly, and to someone dumb enough to take her like that, so she got Joseph, the village carpenter." Still, they must remember — in spite of all these stories — that none of those people ever existed, not Mary or Joseph or their kid born in a feed trough, no more than Father Christmas (only Father Frost existed, who came to school every year with a bag of cookies and moldy oranges), or Muma of the Forrest of fairies. Yuri Gagarin had been to space, that is, to heaven, and he didn't see any gods or saints of any kind."
Mircea Cărtărescu, in Solenoid
Theories of Everything - A kind of "Fuck You" poem
https://player.vimeo.com/video/332976980?h=8d587b4c55
