Love is all that’s left, right? Or our tawdry affair …
Love – is this love? The mockery of love … A kind of parasite upon love. Are we serving the forces of good or the forces of evil, do you think?
Love: that’s what’s been thrown to us. That’s what we think of as freedom now that everything else has been essentially shut down.
Love: that’s the sop. That’s the bone on which we’re supposed to gnaw …
Life out there is meaningless – we know that. So we take refuge in private life. In romance. In affairs. As if that was where the true life was …
Romance is the only thing left. And philosophy … Philosophy!
Laughter.
What’s missing from the world that we find here, between us? Everything. Everything’s missing in the world. That’s the answer. So is that we find here: everything?
Love. This is how we’re exercising our freedom in the new police state. Love … this is where we’re supposed to find fulfilment – the last fulfilment.
But we’re too tainted by the world out there. We’re too corrupt. Too visionless. Don’t know think we’re visionless, philosopher?
Love’s still allowed us. For the moment. It hasn’t yet been declared a crime.
Love … we’re free to love. And that’s about all. We’re free for affairs … for tawdriness. To thrust and pump and then to lie in a disgusting heap …
Public life is meaningless – we know that. Public life is shit. The world out there is shit. So we take refuge in private life. In romance. In affairs. That’s where we think the true life is. Love is all that’s left …
We want to share secrets. Truths about ourselves. We want not to lie. Because we can say nothing true about ourselves out there. This is where all the truth is to be found. Are you speaking truths, philosopher? Am I?
Laughter.
Seeking salvation in intimacy … in love … Because this is the only thing that feels real. We want to be ourselves. Ha! We want to be what’s leftover after the world. Only there’s nothing leftover. We’re part of the world.
Work in Progress 