What I Am, I Don't Know. I

Art Is No Longer Anything More Than A Kind Of Meta-language For Banality.

Postmodernity Is Said To Be A Culture Of Fragmentary Sensations, Eclectic Nostalgia, Disposable Simulacra, And Promiscuous Superficiality, In Which The Traditionally Valued Qualities Of Depth, Coherence, Meaning, Originality, And Authenticity Are Evacuated Or Dissolved Amid The Random Swirl Of Empty Signals.

There Exists, Between People In Love, A Kind Of Capital Held By Each. This Is Not Just A Stock Of Affects Or Pleasure, But Also The Possibility Of Playing Double Or Quits With The Share You Hold In The Other's Heart.

Prophesying Catastrophe Is Incredibly Banal. The More Original Move Is To Assume That It Has Already Happened.

Sadder Than The Beggar Is The Man Who Eats Alone In Public.