Lars Iyer

I like our conversation, not just our fucks.

How long can we go on like this?

Forever.

Nothing adds up to anything.

Is it supposed to? Who said it had to be meaningful? God? … You expect too much. You want it all to make sense. That’s greedy. Anyway, maybe the best things don’t make sense. Maybe that’s part of the point.

Whose point?

The absence of God’s point.

We’ve outlived our times.

We’ve outlived ourselves. We’re already dead. We’ve been dead for the longest time. We’re just waiting for death to catch up with us.

Death has other things to do. Death’s fucking busy …

Let’s die – tonight. Let’s round it all off – tonight. Let’s draw a fucking line under our lives. Under what our lives are supposed to have been.

People like us oughtn’t be allowed.

We’re wrong. We’ve gone wrong. We went wrong in the night, somehow or another. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

People shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t be like this. We weren’t brought up to be this way. We weren’t like this as children.

We’ll never hate ourselves enough.

Enough to what?

Change ourselves.

We’re misusing our time. We’re desecrating our time. Doing wrong things with it. This isn’t how we should be living, is it?

There’s a desire in us to destroy, that’s all. To twist. To invert.

I like my body when it’s with your body. That’s the thing.

I like your body. I like what it does. I like how it does it. I like all these things.

I just want to get fucked. I haven’t got all fucking day.

Who have we got to be? What have we got to do? I want to know …

I’m greedy because I want you. I want everything. I want to be fucked. I want sex. I want this afternoon. I want to scream into the fucking air.

Life was missing life. I was looking for life, and I found life. Right here, in this room.

Look at us, so pathetic. So despicable.

What does God see? What does God think of us? Not very much. God’s thoroughly sick of our kind …

How dead are we? How dead do we have to be?

I want to be touched. I want something to reach me. Something I actually feel. It isn’t too much to ask, is it?

How long do we stay infatuated? How long does it last?

This is the endless end. This is endless destruction. It never ceases. Night and day.

Who are we, really? Who were we really meant to be? Because it wasn’t us. We weren’t doing this.

What are we doing in our real lives, in the real world? Because this world isn’t real. Because this world is fake.

God help us. God help me. God help the world. God help the universe. God help fucking God.

What right do I have to be happy? What right have you?

Are you going to fuck me? What are you waiting for – the revolution? (Laughter)

This world isn’t for us. It’s the wrong world. We don’t belong here. There was a mistake.

What’s the next twist in our sordid little world? What’s going to happen net? What are we going to make happen?

If we followed desire right to the end, what would we find?

Death, probably.

You would say that, death-boy.

What kind of people are we? What happened to us? What do we bring out in one another? What do we allow?

See you don’t really think these things. If you did, you’d leave him. The fact you haven’t means …

Means what?

That this is all bad faith. This is all posturing. You don’t want to go full-on nihilistic.

It’s you and me. At the end of the universe. Let’s fuck again. Let’s fuck for the end.

This will only last for a while – that’s what I tell myself. And then we won’t know each other.

Oh, don’t say that.

It will last for a while and burn itself out, and then you’ll forget me, and I’ll forget you.

We’ve made this place for ourselves. This pit …

Just the two of us. Negating the world together. Negating each other …

The middle class are shrinking. Everyone knows that. We’re an endangered species. We have to shore ourselves up.

You talk an awful lot about the hatred of the world. But I really feel it. I really hate it. This world. This fucking world. Full of people like me. Shameless, disgusting people …

We should have a child. You should give me one. Do you think you could? … You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to be efficacious. You’d like to change things in the world … To make your mark. Purely negatively. Purely destructively.

I think we should commit a double suicide. That where the logic leads. I always wanted to die spectacularly. As a kind of fuck you to everyone. To show I was altogether deeper than they take you for. Or at least madder.

God, it’s all so … heterosexual.

Are we not allowed to be heterosexual now?

We’re depraved, aren’t we? We’re depraved and we love our depravity. It’s what gives us the feeling of being alive. But we’re not actually alive.

I’m addicted to you … which is something. Which gives life a little meaning …

How can I do this to my husband?: that’s what you’re thinking. But I like doing this to my husband. I feels right to be doing this to my husband.

My husband …

Why do you never call him by name?

Because he’s anonymous. Because he’s a force. Because he’s a collection of husband drives. (Laughter.)

Isn’t your husband about seventy?

But I need him – he-s – my – rock. He allows me to be who I am. My material support. My bringer of comforts. We have to live don’t you know. We have to have our houses. Our summer hols. And I have all that – through him.

We have shared friends. People we see. I told them all about you. They’re very intrigued. I said you were gay – I hope you don’t mind. Actually, I didn’t say you were gay, I just let them draw their own conclusions. Which were that you were gay. Which you might as well be. From their perspective. See you wouldn’t be normal, in my world. My business studies world.

I’ve actually been thinking about you all day. I’ve been thinking about your … fucking … cock … You’d better be fucking hard.

Look at me – I’m blushing.

That’s an orgasm glow.

Do you think your husband will notice?

I want to get fucked. That’s what I’m here for. Know your place, fuck boy.