On ourselves

Last night at Würgeengel, Georg, Sam, Carson, and I talked about the community of 60pages, about the freedom and discipline of thought in writing, about postmodernist gods, about long reads, about the daily rhythm of production, about the difference between writing and publishing, about form, style and content. It only dawned on me then that this whole exercise is not for you, dear reader, but rather a perfidious long con staged by Georg and Bobby involving and solely concerned with us motley crew of would-be writers. It is an experiment aimed at changing our lives in 60 days, similar maybe to psychotherapy, libidinous transmission and digital transference. Redekur. Schreiburlaub.

We talked about the resistance of writing (whose resistance? Resistance against what?), of borders that need to be first identified and then crossed, about clear(er) goals. I suggested a revolution, an uprising of the writing proletariat against our masters, the system administrators, in the form of a literary conspiracy: exquisite corps.

Today, Georg asked us to think and digress about Gin and Tonic. OPIUM OF THE PEOPLE. No – I am advocating sobriety. Intoxicated sobriety. Grit, clarity, dissent. Austerity! Wild, wasteful austerity! But I will concede to the idea of thinking about borders, yes. Let’s go where it hurts.

Victoria, Clemens, Brittani, Nimrod, Marcus, Livia, Jossi, Bob, Sandra, Holger, Sam, Martin, Amanda, Dominique, Gina, Igor, Victoria (again), Aino, Murat, Paul, Jeet, Tills, Gregor, Hilton, Mavie, David, Jeanne, Finn, Stefano, Enrico, Anne, Lerato, Armen, Chris, Mei-Lun, Georg + Christopher, and the whole of Lichtenberg – this one is for you. Who is up for some primal scream therapy?