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Title: L'Amour Civilisé Author: Anonymous Date: 2014 Language: en Topics: Return Fire, love, domestication, daily life, monogamy, civilization, anti-civ, insurrection Source: Translated for Return Fire vol.2 from the French-language anti-civilisation journal La Mauvaise Herbe, Volume 11. no2 Notes: PDFs of Return Fire and related publications can be read, downloaded and printed by searching actforfree.nostate.net for "Return Fire", or emailing returnfire@riseup.net
There's no right life in a wrong world.
– Theodor Adorno
Perform. Alarm clock. Shower, toast, coffee. The news. Crisis. Bus,
subway. Emails, Facebook. Perform. Work. Lunch. Crisis. Coffee. Work.
Subway, bus. Cook, eat. Emails, Facebook. Perform. TV series. Beer. TV
series. Bed. Perform. Love.
L'amour.
Cohabitation, life as a couple.
Our world is a disgusting world – a thankless world. We spend life
convincing ourselves of it, and it’s true; and we chat to each other
about it, we study it. “Oh look, the world is now 5.6% crueller than
last week!”
Civilisation saves nothing. It advances, it consumes, it transforms
everything it touches, and it touches everything. The process is total
and self-referential. We are touched by it, changed by it: we sabotage
the machine, the machine sabotages us.
But love?
The wheel turns. Perform. We want a full life, a real and happy life. We
feel that it’s possible and we want it. We deserve it. We have a right
to it. Life as a couple, romance. Intimacy with another person. The
masks come off. We devote ourselves, we ally ourselves to this person,
who will be there when things go badly, and when they go well. A person
who will not abandon you. A person who wants what’s best for you, who
really wants to know you, who knows you, who loves you as you are,
sincerely.
Here, in love, everything has to be perfect. We realise we're in love,
it’s like fireworks. We go out, we have fun, it’s the best. When we fuck
it’s a marathon, it’s the frequency, the amount – we break the records.
The rest, the world, it's shit. But love, it's perfect. In a world of
fakes, there are at least some honest things.
Outside, the wheel turns. The world is not getting better. Every day we
are trampled; the imbeciles are kings, the sociopaths give lessons in
ethics. Smog, disease, poverty. Civilisation is hungry, and it opens yet
another abattoir.
During the day, it’s war. It’s horrific.
We die inside.
At night, everything has to be perfect. We pretend like nothing is
wrong. Nothing’s up. Love is our solution, it’s our reward. At least
we’re together. It’s not that bad. But with time the brutality of the
world invades our bubble. Stress, fatigue, humiliation. Time goes by,
every day is the same. We can no longer recognise ourselves. We get
bored, we find ourselves ugly. We can no longer manage to perform; it’s
draining.
And no-one feels alive. The other is not perfect – has never been
perfect. We manipulate ourselves and each other; it’s not that bad, we
have good intentions.
And it gets worse. Finally nothing is intact. Love is not what it was.
We tear away from it. The dreams collapse. We no longer know who we are,
we want to die.
There's nowhere to seek refuge.
The masks and artificial world remain, another life-lesson in a game
where all the rules are against you. The love of the revolt remains, and
love’s revolt. Civilisation destroys everything? Let’s destroy
civilisation.
The wheel does not turn in circles. We cannot perform, we can only be.
Love does not obey. We only really become close through something more
than words, despite machines, above the noise. Our affection, it’s like
our anger. Love fights against the crazy daily rat-race and wants its
death. Love is what it is, sensual and subversive under the veneer of
appearances.
Together we realise that solidarity, liberty and empathy are not just
words, but simply what we are... and we are the hatred of industrial
society.
Together and against everything.
D'un amour chaotique.
Un amour sauvage.