Saturday, 15 January 2011


Paid a fortune for an original copy of 'The Society of the Spectacle', Guy Debord's famous text. Probably this is a total waste of money. Reading the first paragraph on how we live in a series of representations without any reality made me nod off just as I did when I first read the bloody thing twenty years ago. The fact that the book was written forty years ago and we are still here surely belies the premise, for a lot of 'reality' has happened in the mean time for sure. However, this little book is cute, and we probably do live in a hall of mirrors of representation. Historically, in my little life I have much preferred them over anything authentic, and I have never understood what might be authentic, except, that a world of cheats and liars and exploiters is probably not so great, and a world of laughter and honesty and idiocy is probably better. So I'm probably well keen on a bit of the authentic, with an eye for a bit of the pornographic on the side.
All fools out there ashamed in their beds, howling and crying, afraid of brown envelopes, I salute you.

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