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I am sitting on the pseudo working bench of my studio, thinking about how having a studio is a luxury. In a couple of months I will not have one. A practice to be more than just a word needs space and air. It needs contact and constant positioning and repositioning. Only then it can develop into something more than a word, more than a book, more than an image, more than a painting, more than a video, more than a sculpture. A practice is a constant rapture, a will to test and to be tested, a close encounter with failure, joy, success, depression, ascension, doubt and self-doubt, a flux that ebbs and regenerates, a constant rejuvenation, a celebration, a curse, a purse, a pursue, a longing that is always overdue. My dream, is to be able to hold onto this dream and exist only in these circumstances, my dream is to exchange writing press releases for this release.  To clock ticks differently here, I wish had come earlier today, but that stupid milk kept me home, bills kept me home, fines kept me home, facebook kept me home, mum kept me home, life kept me home, away from this life that I wish could be my life, so I come here and I perform, a performance of making, of thinking, of pinning down, for here I am a visitor, for here I am a delusionist, for here I am free to do whatever I want, even lie to myself that I can make it, that making it makes sense, that there is a place I can one day reach, a place from which to look back and say ‘ I made it’. Making it is making a cake and baking cookies, making it is making money and having a job, the man at the diy store told me that he told me that my generation became too laid back about its future, that we are not making money and that we are spending our time sipping hot coffee at the countless, tasteless coffee shops, we don’t care, we don’t care about the future, we don’t give a damn and why should we? Why should we care if no one else seems to care and they keep it going, the racism, the sexism, the fascism, why should we care, let us drink coffee, let as drink, let us think, let us remain zenists now that we became zenists, let us stop making money and keep drinking coffee, let us sip our coffee, let us not change, since you are opting to stay the same, let us be and we shall let you be, let us drink coffee, let us disappoint you once more, you ask me what I do and I told you and you looked at me as if I am a disappointment, a beheaded disappointment whose head is up in the clouds, but you are the disappointment cause you told me that I should stop doing what I am doing and concentrate into making money cause that is all that matters at the end of the day. Sir, I have been making money for most of my adulthood and let me tell you that I’ve been sick from it in ways I had not had an inkling that they could exist. Dark ways, the ones that make you sicker than sick, the ones that suck the joy out of your joints and your legs and make your body flat and your look empty. So let me drink my coffee, let me be, don’t tell me what you are thinking, don’t throw this burden you are carrying on my shoulders because your burden is nonsense and it sprouts out of total ignorance, an ignorance that is not your fault, this is why I smiled and said that I would be back to chat with you as soon as I would solve my problem. My problem was a broken handle, a broken handle that locked me in my luxury, in my studio, the day that hell broke lose, the day that things finally unveiled themselves to me. Sir, I would come back, I was not lying to you,  what you represent is distasteful but it’s not your fault, we are all victims of our parents, we are victims of our countries, we are all  children of certain situations, so even though I express myself with harsh, honest words and anger, I am telling you sir that I intended to return to you, I indented to help you unload your calamities onto my propensities, I would have listened, I would have smiled, I would have been patient, I would have been understanding, I would have been witty even if your perception of me is shitty. I am not above or below you, I am neither to your right or your left, we are just beings, I would have come but instead I state in, here,

I stayed here, pouring words onto my screen, guided by a silent scream, a scream that unlike what you think, it’s not just the cream floating on the surface of my delicious, hot, amazingly fulfilling cup of coffee.








 







Mark