Se faire violence et apprendre à ne rien faire.

Être en meilleure communion avec le monde en se coupant de lui.

Passer sous une vague et rester intact, ici l’on ne se déplace que verticalement.

Servir tous les marins du monde sans distinction de pavillons, on s’oublie sois même.

Sur une île, tout mène à la mer.

 

Tronche de mauvais temps,

Gardien de phare

 

Aujourd’hui, alors que nous sommes tous moines ou gardien de phare, il est temps de prendre le temps.

J’ai la chance de passer ma quarantaine en montagne, perché à deux mille mètres d’altitude, loin de l’atmosphère pleine de tension qui règne en ville, ce qui favorise fortement ma détente.

Ici tout est calme, je me suis souvent imaginé être là si quelque chose de similaire à ce qui se passe actuellement venait à arriver. J’en avais peur et envie à la fois et maintenant ce quelque chose est là.

Là là là,

La la la.

Après un bon moment de contemplation, la question de la production revient à la charge, si l’artiste ne fait pas, reste-il un artiste ?

Je ne réponds pas à la question mais je me mets à dessiner et puis je regarde beaucoup par la fenêtre;

Qu’est-ce que tu fais ?

Je regarde le monde par la fenêtre.

C’est assez grand pour voir le monde une fenêtre ?

Non, c’est mon monde que je vois.

Si je regarde par ta fenêtre je verrais ton monde ?

Je pense que tu verras le tien.

Ah.. Et qu’est ce que tu vois ?

Mon reflet.

Je comprends mieux, mais alors tu vois ton reflet quand tu regardes le monde ?

On peut dire ça comme ça oui.

S’il faisait jour tu verrais autre chose.

Oui et non.

Comment ça ?

Tout ce que je pourrais voir serait comme un reflet de ce que je suis car c’est moi qui le vois.

Je ne comprends rien.

 

Ci-joint une photo du premier front-flip jamais réalisé en Monster truck, le pilote Lee O’Donnell a réalisé cet exploit aux finales du Championnat de Monster Jam World Freestyle à Las Vegas et décroché le titre 2017 avec un score de 9,355.

ici un accès à la vidéo:

Victor Delétraz – dimanche 29 mars 2020

Ville-jardin: https://youtu.be/TiB9S8uWDas

Île-navire

Nisiov trouve que le son est trop fort, que ça fait des jours que ça dure.
Baba: Je peux vous aider ? Avec un air insolent.

Des voitures qui jouent au football.
Bang bang, le shérif est mort, hors la loi triomphent.
Photos de poissons de gros pixels en fond d’écran.
On y voit des araignées dans les soirées, dans l’embrasure des portes, sur le plafond moisi de la salle de bain.
Celle du rez.
Au -1 ça sent le rat, mort, ou pas, on ne sait pas. Ça pue dans tout le corridor vert.
Appelez un plombier, des spécialistes de dératisation, on paye tout.
Rien n’a été fait.

Il est 11h lundi matin, ou mardi, ou mercredi, ou jeudi. Soleil d’été amoureux pour printemps prématuré en déprime.
Un déjeuner ici, c’est un brunch. On fait un brunch demain ? Oui en cœur.
Un brunch ici c’est des œufs mollets et de la ricotta. Toujours la même danse.
Faire chauffer l’eau, laver le café de la veille, mettre la cafetière sur le feu, passer un coup de pâte comme un animal.
S’installer, dévorer. Dire qu’il fait super chaud.

Le zèbre, la grande catapulte et moi-même jouons à des jeux de guerre. Vocabulaire communautaire.
Il faut ranger la maison par moments, ça fait du bien. Et garder des choses bancales, pour espérer des erreurs.
Ils ont trouvé deux hérissons dehors. Pendant ce temps on jouait au poker, et ce fût la partie la plus ennuyeuse de la journée.
La chambre de Y.R est devenue studio de musique.
Une plage maintenant dans toutes mes plages horaires.

Quelqu’un vend de la brique ?
Basile le plus sympa de l’asile
La plus belle de l’écurie.

La vaisselle, le balai, la musique pour la douche, le papyrus, la tomme végétalienne volée, les applaudissements, l’expo dans le jardin, la fenêtre ouverte pour aérer, la poussière sur les feuilles de la plante qui essaye d’être une plante en plastique, le feu qui se doit d’être là, la fumée dans les poumons, mauvaise et bonne combustion, des connexions internet pour les gens qui doivent encore vivre, des salaires pour les gens qui doivent encore travailler, invisibles, visibles.

 

Alix Debraine – jeudi 2 avril 2020

 

À la fin des « Temps Modernes », Charlie Chaplin, après une série de difficultés, est engagé dans un bar théâtre. Il se voit attribuer la responsabilité de chanter. Son amie inscrit les paroles sur ses manchettes de chemise, qu’il perd soudain. L’ignorance totale du texte l’inspire à improviser dans un langage inventé et mystérieux.

Un nonsense song où le sens est à imaginer ou à oublier. Les musiciens jouent, la mélodie ne change pas. L’affaire est assumée et ça fonctionne. Sur internet sont référencés ces mots, c’est étrange, ça fait retomber le tout dans une création à apprendre, à comprendre. (C’est en ignorant que c’est une séquence de cinéma dirigée par un réalisateur extrêmement maniaque). Pourtant chacun pourrait y insérer sa bouillie de syllabes que ça marcherait aussi, je trouve ça encourageant. Il me semble que ça correspond plus au témoignage d’une euphorie qu’à un réel exercice de style.

Nous sommes entrés en période de confinement il y a deux semaines et j’imagine que nous ne connaissons pas les paroles de cette période éclatée. De mars à juin d’une année contaminée ça ressemble, un peu, au spectacle de Charlie Chaplin. Les espaces et les personnes sont connus, souvent, mais les actions sont à repenser. Les mouvements peuvent se trouver inopportuns, entravés et lents. Les histoires se racontent différemment, sûrement parce que les vidéos mal cadrées captent peu et sont pour certaines limitées dans le temps. La radio est impérieuse, les reproches rebondissent contre les murs parce que l’espace est à partager sans pause et les gentils mots s’échappent des fenêtres. Les temps sont dans le désordre, mixés les uns aux autres. Du moins, je le sens comme ça. Une réalité est mimée grossièrement, où l’absurde agit comme une loupe grossissante, ça permet peut-être de sonder une société et des quotidiens.
Ce soir j’écoute les Kinks, je danse beaucoup, je connais pas les paroles.

Take care

 

Sophie Conus – mardi 7 avril 2020

Yes, sorry, this is another text about the Coronavirus…

Of course, we are all a little tired of it but in a way it seems senseless to talk about anything else. I feel a profound urge to reflect on this strange experience, and I can sense that I now have the capacity and mental space. This is my short reflection experiencing a collective trauma and globalized uncertainty.

We are now entering the fourth week of the semi-confinement in Switzerland. I say semi because the rules given by our government are still quite flexible. People are advised to stay at home but are allowed to go outside as long as the given rules of social distancing : no physical contact and assemblies of no more than five people, are respected. All non-essential facilities are closed, as well as universities, schools, and kindergardens, although some cities offer daycare for toddlers whose parents work in a sector that is considered essential. Everything is handled with great precaution and almost everyone seems to be respectful towards the given rules ; the Swiss cliché is sometimes real after all. In the meantime, spring is booming, the first blossoms emerging and the trees coming back to life. I think that everyone who has gone outside can agree that the sound of buzzing insects and singing birds is much more present than usual, only occasionally interrupted by a neighbor’s reggaeton tunes, zoom yoga class or land mowing.

Yet, as of Monday, the noise of heavy machinery has reentered our daily lives after the three weeks of surreal quietness we’ve had. Building sites (public as well as private) have been reopened. Is it because real estate industries are careless towards their employees working on the sites? Is it underlining the political and economical power structures of our society, where the economy is on top of the list, profit bending the rules once again? The problem is that some of these employees might be temporary, meaning they probably get paid in cash, aren’t covered by social security, and don’t have more than a three week cushion of savings they can survive on. Therefore, they might have asked to go back to work, not really having a choice.

I am studying art, implying that my position is privileged, being able to access higher education, and a questionnable one at times. My school is of course shut down, but I am still supposed to be working on projects (to be making stuff). In this context, I ask myself, how is it possible to make art? How can I be artistically productive in such times? Contemporary art often seizes such themes, making it into some kind of marketing strategy. The question of « will COVID-19 be the next contemporary art trend? » makes me extremely uncomfortable. (I highly recommend Annabelle’s Robinsonerie on that matter). I feel an urge to read, in an attempt to understand this crisis and learn about the various perspectives. I also feel that this is a time for reflection rather tant productivity. A reflection on this collective yet lonesome experience, how to keep correspondence with people and what opportunities could arise from this crisis.

I have been very surprised about the reactions of the different educational systems, who put a tremendous amount of effort into keeping a strict schedule. Kids aged 10 find themselves having to switch between eight different platforms, every teacher having their strategy for teaching. I see my brother muting a chemistry zoom class while sending memes to his friends. I see my teachers, giving us new assignments to fill in the hours of class we would normally have with them. For some reason, I’ve been feeling reluctant towards the weekly phone calls we are asked to have with our teachers, supposedly to talk about the ideas we have for our final Bachelor work, because yes yes yes, the exams will still take place in June, they say. I did not really know why I was feeling that way until I came across a great article shared online by a friend, enabling me to understand my sentiment of unwillingness. The article written by Aisha S. Ahmad is entitled: Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure. Everything is clearly stated in the first lines: « I have observed a common response to the continuing COVID-19 crisis. They [her academic colleges] are fighting valiantly for a sense of normalcy — hustling to move courses online, maintaining strict writing schedules, creating Montessori schools at their kitchen tables. They hope to buckle down for a short stint until things get back to normal ».

The Swiss government is now talking about a deconfinement. Some people believe it’s a conspiracy form the right wing, who never believed in the seriousness of the virus alongside with financiers and promoters, supported by the capitalist driven U.S.A’s argument : « the cure shouldn’t be worse than the disease », in other words, asking for less care and more business. But it’s not only those people who are hoping for a deconfinment. A lot of citizens are in a financial struggle, and need the economy to restart in order for them to simply get past their economical breakdown. I need to say that confinement can possibly be a luxury only applicable in developed countries, and criticism a privilege. It’s not everyone’s reality to be searching for toilet-paper. In fact, how is it possible to survive a general confinement if you live off the cash you make during the day, are lacking water or even a shelter? Recent news has reviled that lockdowns spark police brutality in poor communities, where excessive power is used by the law enforcement. This abuse leads to physical violence and humiliation of people who have no choice but to go outside to get basic necessities to survive. [There is also the tragic rise in domestic violence worldwide, but that deserves a complete article in itself to talk about this heartbreaking issue.]

In my opinion, things won’t be going back to normal. Aisha S. Ahmad goes on: « Global catastrophes change the world, and this pandemic is very much akin to a major war. Even if we contain the COVID-19 crisis within a few months, the legacy of this pandemic will live with us for years, perhaps decades to come. It will change the way we move, build, learn, and connect. There is simply no way that our lives will resume as if this had never happened. And so, while it may feel good at the moment, it is foolish to dive into a frenzy of the activity or obsess about your scholarly productivity right now. That is denial and delusion. The emotionally and spiritually sane response is to prepare to be forever changed. » Supported by Arundhati Roy’s argument « Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. »

So I feel like, for those who are lucky enough not to worry about their finances and who have taken time to build a safe environment around them, now should be the time to take a step back, read, observe and think. Because no one knows what to do, or what is going to happen and what the consequences will be on the long run. The question is not « When will this be over? » But how will we take up our lives again. With which organization, which values and which purposes? As Christophe Lepetit said (translated from a French article): « We are now confronted with a worldwide crisis. Everything is stopped, everywhere at the same time. If we have to change something, it’s now ». I see a lot of potentiality in this time, looking at all the new possibilities, seeing Jean-Luc Godard on instagram live yesterday for example. Many new opportunities are arising.

A glimpse of hope : « Coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else could », continues Arundhati Roy. The current situation has forced our economically driven societies to drastically change the economical system. The giant multinational corporation General Motors was forced to completely redirect its activities to build ventilators to provide for artificial respirators the Healthcare so desperately needs. And that’s only one example. All around the globe, big and small industries are changing their normal activities to provide necessities for hospitals and the population. Yes, our civilization is dominated by the economy, but there is now undeniable proof that even in an emergency, big corporate businesses are made to radically change, determined to offer useful services without being entirely profit driven, which is a big step forward. It is amazing to see that the state is capable of taking action and changing things, which is profoundly challenging Liberalism. We need a state which takes care of it’s citizens, but to what extent? Big crowds probably need to be organized by a strong and legitimate state in order for necessary change to occur. The state should be balanced and transparent, properly questioning, revising and confronting it’s decisions to avoid a totalitarian system.

This is a glimpse of hope, because the frenzy of going back to normality, without any changes, would just lead to the aggravation of the crisis which we all know has already started. There would be a drastic increase in climate refugees, droughts and heatwaves, forest fires, floods, resistant bacterias, all of this leading to a worldwide catastrophe and major civilizational chaos. A plan to relaunch, with a return to economic growth and massive reglobalization with an acceleration of the virtualization of the world isn’t an option. Daniel Cohen wrote in the French newspaper Le Monde: « The crisis could be the point of inflection from industrial capitalism to digital capitalism and as consequence the collapse of the humanist promises of post-industrial society ». Science proves with much more documentation and precision than the pandemic, that a return to our preexisting lives will only be a short term possibility, drawing terrifying curves. Is a global pandemic necessary to make people from developed countries listen to facts?The stake of the cure of our planet goes beyond the economy, taking collective survival seriously. Bertrand Kiefer writes : « When considering the environment, climate change, pollution, resource depletion, and gaps between social structures, science is predicting a peak followed not by a recession, but by a catastrophe. Science is ordering us something far more radical, but also much richer in human potentialities than the confinement: change our lives, give up on insane consumerism, the stupidity of individualism and the obsession of always more. The problem doesn’t only come from the domination of the economy on the world, but from our mentalities which have integrated this logic to its values». Arundhati Roy finishes her article with these strong words : « …the rupture exists. And in the midst of this terrible despair, it offers us a chance to rethink the doomsday machine we have built for ourselves. Nothing could be worse than a return to normality. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it. »

There is a huge potential in this bewildering collective experience. We must reflect on how to create a more sustainable economy and build up new strategies, setting economical growth aside, therefore rethinking our future. Our economy must become one that doesn’t neglect the weak. It should support collectivity, respect, and sharing, and forethink the consequences rather than cynically demonstrate it’s blinders. I think that these last few weeks have taught us that a lot of jobs that are today essential (nurses, cashiers, deliverer, garbage collectors or all the other public space cleaners and of course the farmers without whom we wouldn’t have food!) have been devaluated for too long. « Once the storm is over, we will have to fight with strength our propositions that will come when it will be a question of relaunching the economy to support consumption » writes Sera Gnoni in Le Temps. I hope we will be firm, groundbreaking and resolutely innovative. Now is the moment to look beyond an immediate re-establishment of the preexisting state, relaunching itself in a frenzy; by building itself on remembrance. We must protect our existing nature and be economical with the resources we have left, disinvest in what is harming our planet, invest in renewable energies and most important all support local and sustainable agriculture and other businesses. This is the real emergency, and the big wave we may have avoided with the virus through confinement is only a tiny ripple compared to the one awaiting us due to climate change. I guess this may be why I can’t get myself in the mood to throw myself back into surrogate productivity via internet courses. This is maybe why I feel I need to listen to the noise of the birds and bees and why I need to think what my role can be in that change which needs to occur and look at all the new opportunities that will rise from these times of collectivity and support.

Thank you for all the breathtaking, and brilliantly well written articles that are emerging from this period.
Thank you to my dad and my dear friends Mikkeline, Nellie, Henry and Linn who took the time to read and give me feedback.

In English

Article written by Arundhati Roy in the Financial Times, “The pandemic is a portal” : https://www.ft.com/content/10d8f5e8-74eb-11ea-95fe-fcd274e920ca

Article written by Aisha S. Ahmad in The Chronicle of Higher Education, “Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity” : https://www.chronicle.com/article/Why-You-Should-Ignore-All-That/248366

Article written by Patrick Collinson in The Guardian, “After coronavirus: ‘We can’t go back to business as usual’”: https://www.theguardian.com/money/2020/apr/04/coronavirus-business-finance-work-property

Article written by Amanda Taub in The New York Times, “A New Covid-19 Crisis: Domestic Abuse Rises Worldwide” : https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/06/world/coronavirus-domestic-violence.html

Video posted by the Telegraph Coronavirus: Videos emerge online of police brutality amid lockdown around the world : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oD4M-av8gnU

In case you haven’t seen it yet: Greta Thunberg and George Monbiot make short film on the climate crisis : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Q0xUXo2zEY

In French

A facebook post written by Bertrand Kiefer, “Le remède et le mal” : https://www.facebook.com/bertrand.kiefer.5/posts/3619984411392994

Article written by Arundhati Roy and translated by Joelle Leconte in Medium, “En Inde, le confinement le plus gigantesque et le plus punitif de la planète” : https://medium.com/@joellea91/arundhati-roy-en-inde-le-confinement-le-plus-gigantesque-et-le-plus-punitif-de-la-planète-282aa654a9c7

Many articles from Le Temps (Swiss newspaper)

https://www.letemps.ch/sport/apres-virus-revolution?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=article_traffic&fbclid=IwAR38Gpzjnc9ZtbpZyB3HwKItpomx4-JYbk4_LHpwXPSdEsVvT_wj8Uc1zuo

https://www.letemps.ch/opinions/plaidoyer-scenario-c-laprescoronavirus

https://www.letemps.ch/opinions/ne-revenons-normalite-cest-precisement-probleme?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=article_traffic&fbclid=IwAR1mZQ-TrpAcwPRzi9bz4kwn7uBdN1qJq-uC4qHKdH1MXurnMP6LPuq2nWs

Annabelle’s Robinsonerie: https://head.hesge.ch/construction/robinsoneries-journal-des-bords-annabelle-galland/

 

Clara Vischel – dimanche 12 avril 2020

Maquillages quotidiens

Chaque jour je me maquille,
À 9 heures pétantes, pas d’excuses.
J’ai bien lu les conseils que les astronautes donnent pour surmonter cette situation
Il faut se fixer des routines et un programme préparé à la minute près.

Donc quand je me maquille je suis minutieuse,
De toute façon là, j’ai le temps
Je procède avec un ordre bien particulier

Je commence par prendre mon miroir
Premier regard dans le profond de la glace
…
J’ai les yeux vides et des cernes
T’as pas rajeuni pendant la nuit ma vieille
et ça risque pas de s’améliorer si tu veux mon avis
Je repense à la fois où on m’a dit
que je suis une vieille dame dans un corps de jeune femme
…
Ça me rassure à moitié

Première étape,
Anti-cernes, petites formes triangulaires sous les yeux,
Une touche de lumière sur le front, l’arrête du nez
Et le menton
Bien tamponner sinon ça marque toutes tes petites ridules
Et tu prends au moins 10 ans

Petite huile pour donner un jolie teint, un peu brillant
Ensuite, les yeux,
orange, rose, rouge, paillettes etc…la totale
Je m’applique bien
Le rouge se fond dans l’orange, qui se fond dans le rose
Ensuite
La fausse bonne mine avec une touche de blush
Sur le bombé des joues
Puis la touche finale :
Highlighter dans tous les sens
Je sors de ma chambre plus luisante que le fond d’un paquet de chips

Résultat : Voiture volée, comme tous les jours !

MAIS

j’ai décidé que
Dans mon petit théâtre personnel
Il y aura un nouveau personnage qui prend vie le matin, quand je me maquille
Et s’éteint le soir, quand je me démaquille.

Donc à chaque jour son personnage,

Je vous laisse avec l’histoire du personnage du jour :

Le placard méprisant :

Aujourd’hui c’est l’histoire de la fille qui toisait du regard sa tablette de chocolat

Maquillée comme une voiture volée,
Avec du rose, de l’orange, les paillettes et tout le tralala
habillée comme un clown,
Elle ouvre son placard tous les matins, à la même heure
9 heures

Le placard s’ouvre donc,
La lumière rentre et éclaire le fond,
Dévoilant délicatement son contenu

L’objet de la discorde est placé là,
dans une position lascive et nonchalante
Une fine lueur éclaire juste ce qu’il faut
Elle est vêtue d’un petit déshabillé argenté
Terriblement sexy
Légèrement froissé à certains endroits
Laissant à peine entrevoir le plus intéressant,
Ce qui suscite un profond désir…………
La tablette de chocolat

La lutte s’annonce corsée

Mais la fille est prête,
Elle se tient là, se dresse comme une statue, féroce et inébranlable,
La tête haute, les joues tendues et les sourcils froncés

« Tu ne m’auras pas cette fois-ci »
Elle s’est préparée au combat toute la nuit
Et tout le jour d’avant
Elle sait qu’il va falloir se battre, le plus fortement possible

Chaque matin c’est la même chose
Mais ce matin, c’est différent.

Les yeux intenses, elle résiste
Lance un regard si hargneux, si méprisant à la tablette
Que celle-ci se met à rougir
Elle chauffe si fort,
Qu’elle se met à fondre et disparaît.

Victoire !!

Depuis quelques semaines
La fille a du temps pour réfléchir
Un peu trop de temps
C’est le temps des questions
Elle connaît bien ce vieux démon qui l’accompagne
Celui qui rend la nourriture angoissante
et le placard méprisant.

 

Henry Drake – vendredi 17 avril 2020

 

Amish Parking Lots 

00:00

They were living in surroundings of aerodynamic obsolescence, roaming ruins of speed no longer ejected. Drag reduced, friction eradicated, everything conforming to streamline but parked within an Amish parking lot. They dodged each passer-by on the pavement, giving them the respective two meters, hurdling past the puddles of purpose they left behind them as their sense of time dissolved into the bitumen biscuits beneath their feet. For once buildings kept still and became impossible objects, inanimate masks of a show that did its last performance. Props.

18:75

It occurred to them when they were running along the bridge on the outer perimeter of the town. It was a part of the highway overpass and cars were hurtling past them as they ran, sending gusts of warm exhaust fumes against the back of their calves. Along the sides of the bridge rose 3.5-meter metallic tubes, varying in thickness but maintained a strict distance of 10 cm apart. They were close enough for you to slide a hand through but too narrow for you to throw yourself into the river. A 70-meter silent plummet, unnoticed as the engines roar above.

19:10

As the day’s light was being squeezed out from behind them, their long black shadows were cast in front of them onto the bars. Their shadow flickered across the metal as the tube thickness alternated in front of them. The flicker was fast enough to make the river, the city and the mountains on the other side disappear. Their running pace meant that they could not keep what was at distance in focus and their eyes could only hold onto the nuances of grey of the tubes flashing in front of them. It was the equivalent of watching a film with a projector that was out of synch, moving too slowly, forcing its audience to be and caught within the black space in between the frames. Only at a brisk stroll could their eyes make out the stratified creases of time along mountains in the distance.

22:40

They left their apartment the next day just before the shops closed. The sun was being squeezed out for its last appearance, setting ablaze the terracotta-tiled rooftops. They thought of their friend David and how if he was a time of day, this was it. He had a certain tempo whereby you knew that all of his actions were the most natural gestures he could complete within that given moment. No rush, no premeditation, just David, at ease within a time he had assembled for himself, not one imposed. Thinking of this they began to slow down and decided that the only person going to beat them in being the slowest to walk across the plain back home would be the homeless man who had passed out in the half-pipe of the public skate park. So in tune with the speed of his surroundings, 3 hipsters on bikes had to slow down and check his pulse.

24:30

It was the first thing that had made sense for the last 3 weeks. The objective was simple: walk as slowly as possible without it being uncomfortable or encumbering. When their ankles became too aware of themselves and they could feel the bones rolling over one another within their sockets, they knew the pace wouldn’t work. Once they had achieved the slowest natural pace, everything felt like a public protest or performance. Muscle memory pulling them forwards. Could the others feel their resistance or see the speed by which they were cutting through space? Without their default tempo did their movements lose their purpose?

24:32

They thought of how earlier that week they had recognised someone from across the street, whom they had met once at a party 2 years ago. They could not see their features; their hair was different, and it was wintertime back then, but they were sure they recognised the way their body moved and the time they produced. By changing the speed of their stride, maybe they disappeared like the city, the river and the mountain? Lost within an unsynchronised framing rate, invisible to passers-by and unrecognisable to friends.

27:20

What about seeing mountains? Walking slowly caused time to become an extra sensory-perceptual faculty. Like the blind learning to see colour, never before had they been able to feel so discretely the time within people, buildings and objects. The phone repair shop on the ground floor, which brandished the same art nouveau features as apartments above it fostered a feeling of time as clumsy as putting peanut butter in a ham sandwich. The once towering timelines and props everyone had worked so hard to uphold were melting around them, clearing space for new narratives hopefully ones with different tempo, ones with a better view of the mountain.

31:30

 

Lorenz Wernli – mercredi 22 avril 2020

 

Everyday I sit outside hoping that today could be the day.

But for now all that remains are the chains of the machines, the stream of images, the desire to immerse oneself, the feeling of loneliness and emptiness in this live performance of my sharing and being shared.

//////////

X: Why do you think this guy always buys that same exact beer?

Y: It’s quite a cheap one I guess.

X: I wouldn’t buy that, the design of the can looks disgusting.

Y: Yes but It’s one of those you can buy the big 24 packs at Denner.

X: It’s not Anker or 1291, it’s some German brand I think.

Y: Yeah, but they all are at about the same price level.

(Noise in the background of old men playing pétanque)

Y: My father always bought the Prix Garantie Lager, the 24 pack with half liter cans.
With the reasoning behind that he doesn’t drink it because of the taste but because of the thirst.

X: That’s a funny way to put it.
So it was actually just alcohol that he wanted, water wouldn’t have cured the cause.

Y: Exactly, thirst for him equalled alcohol.

That’s maybe why he didn’t care what the beer tasted like because either way he always bought the cheapest one. And after the first 2 or 3 you won’t know the difference anyway.

(Birds singing in the distance)

X: But what I don’t get is, why he did it that way?
Since for him the important part was to drink alcohol, it was something he enjoyed, a habit that was part of his everyday life. He must have made a choice at some point, consciously or unconsciously.
Why did he choose to drink the cheapest beer?

Y: I think because he calculated how much his consumption would cost him annually and he then found this the most appealing to choose the cheapest one.

(Wind blows through the tops of the trees that are filled with sunlight)

X: But I always thought that when you care about something you develop a kind of interest for it. Like when I’m passionate or obsessed with something, I always tend to go with what I deeply enjoy. It’s not like he wasn’t working, he was financially stable. He had all options.

Y: Yeah but he’s not that kind of person. All the other options would have been irrational
for him.

But of course there are many people who have a different approach when it comes to alcoholism.
For example the ones who buy a lot of expensive wine and then drink even more of that expensive wine so that they can keep buying more and more.
And all with the excuse that it’s about the taste, that it’s a hobby or even better an investment.

X: Yeah that’s more how my father deals with his alcoholism, he doesn’t want to face it.
He’s not very honest with himself in that way.

Y: Maybe one could then say that buying the cheapest beer is the most honest approach to alcoholism.

X: Yeah that might be true.

(Silence)

Y: I would just go for vodka and water, I think there you have the best money/alcohol ratio.

X: Yeah but it’s a question of preferences. Plus drinking a bottle of vodka everyday isn’t really a thing in our culture, maybe in Russia you could do that.

Y: Yeah maybe, actually I have no clue how much beer one drinks in Russia.

X: Yeah me neither.

Y: Yeah about Russia we don’t know shit.

//////////

As he fell asleep and the artificial birds kept singing, the internet had won again.

But maybe tomorrow is the day, the day that finally something real will happen again.

 

Emma Rssx – jeudi 23 avril 2020

Ils avaient aplati le monde, comme une boule de pâte que l’on étend au rouleau à pâtisserie. Plat. Colorié ce qui est eau, fait éclater le sol de la terre, scindé en petits morceaux. Pays. Crêpe plate toute bleue, morcelée d’éclats de couleurs. Carte du Monde.

Les choses étaient séparées. Bien séparées. Mal séparées. Mais séparées.

Certains croyaient que leur bout de couleur valait mieux que celui d’à côté. États. D’autres disaient que l’on ne pouvait pas traverser ces lignes imaginaires. Frontières.
Quoi qu’il en soit, le monde était un monde, leur monde, et il était un. Bullshit.

Il y a des gens coincés derrière ta frontière. Regarde, tu as fait la ligne trop courbe et maintenant ils meurent de faim. Eh là ! Tu dépasses. Bah voilà maintenant ils sont dans l’eau et ils se noient. C’est malin ça. Pourquoi tu les mets tous les uns sur les autres. C’est absurde. Ils ne peuvent pas respirer. Tu crois vraiment qu’on va les laisser comme ça? De toute façon, ce sont eux aujourd’hui et toi demain. J’aimerais t’y voir toi! Quand il fera plus de Celsius que tu ne peux compter sur tes petits doigts, et que tu te rendras compte que le papier ne se mange pas. Ah j’aimerais nous y voir.

Les ondes diffusent des épaules faussement carrées dans des costumes trop stricts. Des voix fourbes se faufilent dans le vide. Titubent pendant 27 minutes et 36 secondes. Des petits êtres peu charismatiques s’expriment pour ne rien dire. Serrant leurs petites lèvres sèches en forme de cœur.
I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic.
Cravate-Cauchemar.

À la fin, on ne les voyait presque plus. Ils restaient cachés dans leurs boîtes. Ils avaient peur de quelque chose. Peut-être qu’ils avaient compris qu’on les observait. Mes chers compatriotes. Non, il y avait autre chose. Nous sommes en train de vivre. Ils avaient peur de quelque chose. Des jours difficiles. Quelque chose qu’ils ne pouvaient pas voir. Face à ce virus. Quelque chose qui les rendait docile, futile, fou. Redoutable, invisible.

Hommes politiques. Poly-tic. Poly-tactiques. Et tic et tac, le temps passe. Les radis poussent, sans penser que peut-être il n’y aura plus personne pour les manger demain.

Les radis ne pensent pas Emma

Ah

Je crois que cette colère passera
Je crois que cette colère passera et que nous passerons avec elle
Mais passer comme un fruit trop mûr?
Ou une couleur délavée?
Ou bien comme passer l’éponge?
Plutôt comme on pass away
Comme passer de la page 1 à la page 5
Et puis terminer le livre
Oui en finir
Un récit à un autre
Un récit qui n’est plus le nôtre

(Les radis poussent et ne pensent pas)