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What do you usually do in quarantine?

Protest.

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Will you be voting for Joe Biden this coming election?

Hell to the nah.

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We develop new principles for the world out of the world’s own principles. We do not say to the world: Cease your struggles, they are foolish; we will give you the true slogan of struggle. We merely show the world what it is really fighting for, and consciousness is something that it has to acquire, even if it does not want to.

Marx, Letter from the Deutsch-Französische Jahrbücher to Ruge (1843)

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As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty (Jonas Mekas, 2000)

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Hip-Hop as an ontology

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“Nothing we read can import new or foreign feelings that we don’t, in one form or another, already possess. ‘Every reader,’ as Marcel Proust writes in Time Regained, ‘is actually the reader of himself’. Books can’t install unknown feelings or passions into us. What they can do is develop our emotional, psychological and intellectual life, and, by doing so, show us how and to what extent we are connected.”

— Hisham Matar, Books can take you places Donald Trump doesn’t want you to go

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“And in myself, too, many things have perished which, I imagined, would last for ever, and new structures have arisen, giving birth to new sorrows and new joys which in those days I could not have foreseen, just as now the old are difficult of comprehension.”

— Proust, ‘Swann’s Way’, In Search of Lost Time

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“Riveted to some detail of the desert the eye fills with tears. Imagination at wit’s end spreads its sad wings.”

— Samuel Beckett, Ill Seen Ill Said

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“I know the place. It is true. Everything we do Corrects the space Between death and me And you.”

— Harold Pinter, I Know the Place

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Red waistcoat, 1938, Paul Klee

https://www.wikiart.org/en/paul-klee/red-waistcoat-1938

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Don’t imagine that I write just to write, or to publish, or to produce art. I write because this is the final goal, the supreme refinement—the temperamentally illogical refinement—of my cultivation of states of mind and feeling.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via freelance-philosopher)

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The spectator would approach art as he does a landscape. A landscape doesn’t demand from the spectator his “understanding”, his imputations of significance, his anxieties and sympathies; it demands, rather, his absence, it asks that he not add anything to it. Contemplation, strictly speaking, entails self-forgetfulness on the part of the spectator: an object worthy of contemplation is one which, in effect, annihilates the perceiving subject. […] In principle, the audience may not even add its thought. All objects, rightly perceived, are already full.

Susan Sontag, Styles of Radical Will (via freelance-philosopher)

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“He tried to read an elementary economics text; it bored him past endurance, it was like listening to somebody interminably recounting a long and stupid dream. He could not force himself to understand how banks functioned and so forth, because all the operations of capitalism were as meaningless to him as the rites of a primitive religion, as barbaric, as elaborate, and as unnecessary. In a human sacrifice to deity there might be at least a mistaken and terrible beauty; in the rites of the moneychangers, where greed, laziness, and envy were assumed to move all men’s acts, even the terrible became banal.” ― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed