I love those political revolutionary movies, as they offer me a kind of escape from my everydayism, channeling my unused mental energy into a form of pseudo unknown-of experience, my craving for liberation, anything that can act as an alternative to the hollowness felt inside me. Sometimes while I watch the scenes going on before my eyes, a vague feeling of frustration silently crawled up inside me; a devastating realization of my powerlessness in doing anything other than indulging in theoretical masturbation and banal self-pondering. I wish I was born in those days, when revolution was running everywhere in the world, in Europe, in America. People with hot hearts and burning passion to fight for a cause. Am I the only one who listens to “La Rage” and feels turned on?
“Dope chokes up young people’s revolutionary energy” (The Edukators)
Is it dope or is it the very process of development that halts my mental energy?
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe both.
Walking the rue d’Assas, dropping by a patisserie for a hot French toast, stopping at a sidewalf café for a hot morning mocha. Smoking, reading the morning papers, chatting with friends, bathing in summer sun light.
Other than that, on weekends I spend my days like a lazy cat cuddling up in its warm, furry blanket on a cold winter day. Weekends locked in my home, having a movie watching run, thinking.
Real slow life. Beer everyday in a run. Scenes dancing before my eyes, people’s lives, tears, happiness, revolution, guns, bloodshed, everything that exists. Now I feel the very core of what is called “mobile privatization” learned in my media studies class. People rooted in one place watching thousands and millions of lives happening around the globe. The sky’s the limit. No time or space oppression.