clark-schiefer

[clark-schiefer]

Talentless Fucks

Send hope now, they ask me.

I have no hope to send

Sorry ...

to all the people out there who were told they could be something. Who grew up with lofty dreams and goals of being curators, or artists. All those musicians and artists we looked up to, Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe idealised youth, all those stories of those who were nothing and then something. all those romantic stories and ideas. that fucking superstar curator, Hans Ulrich Obrist, who started in his kitchen hosting events. exhibitions. all you need is passion, ambition. am I not ambitious? Am I not passionate?

Perhaps I’m just a talentless fuck

perhaps i’m too busy,

falling in love or lust or

trying to understand my sexuality.

Or even what i enjoy to do. trying everything and achieving nothing. now we find something we love, finally feeling what is something one could describe close to passion, or perhaps just a vague lust. but does it get remotely close to paying the rent? of course not….

I see so many examples, of friends and others who are also working shitty menial, degrading jobs just to scrape by

intelligent and creative and passionate people, who like me also had an unquestioning belief that everything would work out, that something could happen

here

Berlin… the city of dreams

“It’s so cheap here!”

all the fucking english students with their pound or australians with their 25$ minimum wage savings. All the trust fund private school kids who come here and pay double the rent of the tenants before

So cheap here! and then don’t give a 20 cent tip on a coffee,

well fuck you.

Berlin, the city of broken dreams, where graduates of all sorts of studies, and misfits from all countries come to try and make something of themselves. Come to pay a ‘cheap rent’ and not have to work so much, so that they can work on their music, or their art, or perhaps just figure out who they are. Cheap rent that goes up every year, while minimum wage does not. Hidden fees and bureaucratic bullshit thats fucks you over at any given moment.

The privilege of health insurance, for once an opportunity to afford a doctor! but of course more hidden fees, over due bills, things not included, but required, mandatory monthly bills add up, the dream unravels

being bound to medication you rely on, depending on a system that does not give a fuck about you

Maybe like me you would also discover a safe spaces, for misfits, for the freaks, to find other freaks and not be looked at, or looked at as it were…. but again, gets more expensive, the prices become prohibitively high, and you realise harshly that these spaces also don’t give a fuck about you, they just want your money. Ostensibly safe spaces where people are still raped, drugged and left passed out. where if you pass out you’ll be dumped on the street some blocks away to shirk responsibility. Looking at performers in these ‘safe’ spaces, where you feel once felt liberated, maybe for the first time, where you can be yourself, or discover, or define yourself, but it becomes also apparent that no one in the booth looks like you… why don’t i see any non-white people in the booth?

non-cis people in the booth?

why do i so rarely see women in the booth? … the spaces and concepts do not evolve with us, with the freaks.

but we are the lucky ones… there are less lucky, less privileged, but it’s stupid to compare in such times. Everything is relative.

Hierarchies of oppression, and

within marginalised communities, more internalised discrimination

Mental health struggles, stories from friends who cannot get an appointent to psychotherapist, medication needing urgent adjustment, but who will write the script with a 6 month waiting list.

The emergency room is only for an emergency, well what constitutes a fucking emergency??

I finally understand the desperation of the likes of Ian Curtis, but at least he had talent, and ‘achieved’ something. But what is achievement in this fucked up capitalist society? I feel i’m finally achieving something by my own low standards, but can I pay my own dinner tonight?

Can I report to my parents that I am achieving something, when my achievements carry no job title, no pay check?

How to inspire a loved one to get out of their bed of desperation when i have nothing more to offer them. I cannot assure them everything will be alright, because it won’t. Nothing is alright, the world is fucked up, and it’s only getting worse. Maybe we will survive a little longer, but what is surviving? We need a new plan … albeit, hedonism, but hedonism isn’t a choice in a capitalist society, and hedonism isn’t fulfilling, unless perhaps you genuinely believe it, but then maybe that’s a sickness too,

like capitalism

To all the talentless fucks out there, stuck in this fucked up system. I love you freaks. Fuck conforming. Fuck their standards of achievement and sanity and health and existing