Jacques Cancaret, Nu Aux Colliers
Thursday | 15 December 2022 | 11:55 AM 
Your eyes go sad by Fernando Pessoa Your eyes go sad. You're not Listening to what I say. They doze, dream, fade out. Not listening. I talk away. I tell what I've told, out of listless Sadness, so often before ... I think you never listened, So you're away you are. All of a sudden, an absent Stare, you look at me, still Immeasurably distant, You begin a smile. I go on talking. You Go on listening - your own Thoughts you listen to, The smile as good as gone, Until, through the loafing Afternoon's waste of while, The silence self-unleafing Of your useless smile.
Saturday | 10 December 2022 | 06:16 PM
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, String Quartet No. 19 "Dissonance", K. 465
Monday | 5 December 2022 | 11:34 AM
Salutation by Ezra Pound O generation of the thoroughly smug and thoroughly uncomfortable, I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun, I have seen them with untidy families, I have seen their smiles full of teeth and heard ungainly laughter. And I am happier than you are, And they were happier than I am; And the fish swim in the lake and do not even own clothing.
Friday | 2 December 2022 | 04:06 PM
Ramon Casas, Ramon Casas and Pere Romeu in an Automobile, 1901
Thursday | 24 November 2022 | 10:43 AM
Drawing
Final painting
Johfra Bosschart , Witches' Sabbath , 1972
Sunday | 20 November 2022 | 11:42 AM
Eleven Poems taken from the Archangelical by Georges Bataille My madness and my fear have wide dead eyes and the steady gaze of fever what looks in these eyes is the nothingness of the universe my eyes are blind skies in my impenetrable night the impossible cries out everything crumbles Almanac of inky lye immortality of hairy poet poetry cemetery of obesity farewell lewd washerwomen farewell sweet dead dressed up like naked women farewell lies farewell sleep infinite itching if ants sorting papers moustaches in dust wagonloads of fever columns of mad rain clapping the soiled shrouds funereal immodesty of human bones there's a crowd piling up cans of maybe a genderme in a shirt on top of a roof waves a scythe the Demon I lose you in the wind I count you among the dead a vital cord between heart and wind I have nothing to do in this world except burn I love you unto death Your restlessness a mad wind whistles in your head you are sick from laughing you flee me for a bitter void tearing your heart apart tear me apart if you like my fever-burned eyes find you in the night I am cold in the heart I tremble from the depths of my pain I call to you with inhuman cry as if I were giving birth you strangle my like death I know this miserably I only find you in the throes of death you are as beautiful as death all words strangle me star pierce the sky scream like death strangle I don't want life It is sweet to be strangled the rising star is as cold as a dead woman blindfold my eyes I love the night my heart is black push me into the night all is false I suffer the world smells like death birds fly blindly you are as dark as a black sky a feast will commence in mud and fear stars will fall when death comes near you are the horror of night my love for you is like a cry of death you are weak like death my love for you is like delerium you know my head dies you are the immensity the fear you are beautiful like murder my heart expands enormously I choke your belly is naked like the night You lead me straight to the end the throes of death have begun I nothing more to tell you I speak to you from the dead and the dead are silent.
Wednesday | 16 November 2022 | 11:36 AM
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