August 20. Decadence.

Berlin and getting organized. Perhaps I have developed a sharp nose for decadence, a term I have a hard time defining by the way. But let’s give it a try, you have seen weirder things at this spot. So, what then, is decadence? A bundle of images comes to my mind. People critizising everybody else, making cynical remarks as they devour lamb chops with slimy green mint sauce dripping from their chubby chin. I want you to get the picture. People moaning and groaning about life, from behind their fat television set, their butts pushed deep into their crème-colored couch. People telling you the same plan over and over again and you know they’ll never try to make it come true. People debating on the internet and insulting each other in a horrendously blunt ignorance of etiquette. No I won’t stop. I am talking about real people and it can be painful but I don’t care. See, I don’t go ad personam, let me finish the list of images of decadence. People writing God knows what and tell you it’s the most important thing in the world they won’t laugh the Dionysian laugh about the little fancy vain theater in their heads and get over it. People pretending to be smart entrepreneurs but don’t ask if their brainchild is a real contribution as long as they can pay their beers and cigarettes. People working on idle jobs making up a flawless battery of excuses why they don’t stand up for their cause. People who want the best for somebody else but blend out the possibility that somebody else’s voice conveys a truth that may enrich theirs. People who let you work for them for nothing and then never mention it. People who naturally dominate you without questioning this behavior let alone being playful about it. People who write hateful obituaries about other people, all well-fed individuals, pampered as they are and slurping slimy oysters. People who are working their asses off and flirt with the thought that it makes them morally superior to those who don’t. People treating the defence of their academic essay as the defence of their life, degenerated epigons of self-importance who have never seen a gun or a death camp.
For me, the solution is simple: I have to go decadence out of the way. It would be great if you can help. I can sleep on your kitchen floor for instance, and keep the mice away. And I know how to handle a broom.

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