Cool Memories 09

Cool Memories 09

By Jean Baudrillard 布希亞

Translated by Springhero 雄伯

There is something stupid about raw events of which Destiny, if it exists, cannot be insensible. There is something stupid about self-evidence and truth from which a superior irony cannot but spare us. Thus everything is expiated one way or another. Forgetting or mourning are no more then the period of time required by reversibility.


    Clothed woman: obligation to see prohibition on touching.

    Undressed woman: obligation to touch prohibition on looking.

    But this is doubtless something that is changing.




   The striated space of life, the smooth space of melancholy. No more plans, neither for loving, nor for writing. That of living remains, like a superficial space in which disparate, fickle objects pass by—all fleeting shapes.


   One can make beautiful things simply to get rid of them. Without pride, without vanity—simply by expulsion: I abjure my inertia by acts. These are no more than exorcisms by which I rid myself of the heavy matter of existence. Nothing done like this could have useful or memorable results. It is simply a question of exhausting life, sex, energy and memory, before it is too late.


    With my sort of pain or pleasure, there is the secret desire to get it over with as soon as possible, and the satisfaction of being absolved, for a moment of existence. The sooner it is over, the longer the absolution.


    Bombastic, petty-bourgeois worldview: “ I did what I had to do. Forgive me and get off my back.” Emotionally disturbed worldview: “ I am not responsible, your desire doe not affect me, I can do without you.” Worldview of nostalgia: “ The ideal form of existence is an empty one, since that is the form in which some event may chance to cross it at any moment.”


    Always lived with men and women of a younger generation. No sense of age difference. Now, all of a sudden, the people I know have started to be 35—40 years old. But instead of feeling they are closer to me, I feel a generation apart. Most people, I think, escape this sudden change in age difference by projecting on to their own children.


  Still this naïve idea that light, fire and dryness cannot but bring out the finest passions in men, and that the heavy and provincial passions should never have flourished anywhere but in the North and the cold, where they are bound up with some kind of self-preservation instinct. Alas! It is not so, and the whole world, as San Antonia says, is just a little market town.



Cool Memories by Jean Baudrillard 布希亞

Translated by Springhero 雄伯




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