Frammenti di un discorso amoroso

You ever fumble a real one? It’s okay, you can raise your hand. I’ve done it, we’ve all done it. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all and all that shit, right? While many have tried to analyze love from our flirtatious frivolities to our foolhardy follies, Roland Barthes att Leggi tutto

A textual conversation between Roland Barthes (RB) and his friend X.: RB: hey X: hey Rolly, what's up RB: went on a date last night, still reeling X: oh? how'd it go? RB: I don't know! he said I was adorable. "adorable"! X: huh? RB: why would he say that? RB: like he couldn't think of anything better about Leggi tutto

"Love" seems to me something which is impossible to define, to grasp. Centuries of authors, of philosophers, have tried to do so in vain. There is always something left to be said. As in death, love is a topic of infinite discourse. As Tolstoy echoes in the mouth of Anna Karenina 's titular heroine: Leggi tutto

I want to cast language out of my body, there's no space for it in me anymore - not even in the little crevices between my joints and in the folds of my skin. Why do I need language anyway, when my body betrays me at every turn, in resonance with every tick of the clock? I want to put my mind in a p Leggi tutto

“‘Am I in love? —Yes, since I’m waiting.’ The other never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game: whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lo Leggi tutto

Fuck! Left in random Manhattan apt, then shipped to Haiti in aunt's luggage. ----- Double fuck! Lost it again on the subway with hundreds of notes. ----- Ok finished, after 6 months. This book is a destroying and destroyed queer love poem masquerading half-assedly as theory. It is a poem with a mustache Leggi tutto