Why it's easy to hate the world!

Not that I hate my world, this immediate flat at least, which is very nice indeed disguised neatly as a piece of archaic modernist shit in East London. But if you leave here, if you have to venture in to the world of 'Cash in The Attic' 'Loose Women' The Daily Mirror', Homebase and Cafe Rouge and the eager discussion of ringtone variations, if you have to sit amidst all this for longish periods of time through obligation, it is very easy indeed to hate the world.

Having spend twenty or longer years promoting some notion of 'populism' in architecture, I'm now almost proud to disavow it. Things have gone too far to passively study the machinations of The Machine, for it has grown so obviously monstrous in every way. Folks don't seem to realize it, but it fucks you over, twice, maybe three times every time. For instance, they make your life miserable so you can't get it up anymore because they have you screwed. So they will also manufacture some vastly expensive Viagra to help you out so you can screw and be screwed yet again.

Vegas was always great because you knew it was fucking you over, but to get fucked over so totally by the very people who would love to call Vegas a corrupt immoral hell wearing their cheap suits for values, is just sickening.

Read Badiou.