The pervert's guide to ideology Partie Quatre/British people in their natural habitat

"My psychoanalytic friends are telling me that typically today patients who come to the analysts to resolve their problems feel guilty not because of excessive pleasures, not because they indulge in pleasures which go against their sense of duty or morality or whatsoever, on the contrary; they feel guilty for not enjoying enough, for not being able to enjoy."

"Mis amigos psicoanalíticos me dicen que lo típico hoy en día es que los pacientes vengan a los analistas para resolver sus problemas no porque se sienten culpables por sus excesos de placer, no porque sucumben demasiado a placeres que van en contra de su sentido del deber o de la moral o todo eso, sino lo contrario; se sienten culpables por no disfrutar lo suficiente, por no ser capaces de disfrutar."

Text by Slavoj Žižek from The Pervert's Guide to Ideology (2012).

All pictures taken on 13th January 2017 somewhere between London and Bexley, England, United Kingdom. Special thanks to Luce, Elspeth, Brad and extra special thanks to Becky for having the most challenging English accent ever.

Mean old bed bug blues

When I lay down at night, I wonder how can a po gal sleep,

When I lay down at night, I wonder how can a po gal sleep,

When some is holdin my hand, others eatin my feet.

Picture taken on 26th July 2016 while waiting for the red line in Universitat underground station, Barcelona, Spain.

You don't know Görlitzer Park?

Meet Max. He is a very quiet pain in the arse from, quote, “west Africa” who followed me around Berlin for 8 hours in a row until I told him to fuck off/lied and said I was going home when I obviously wasn’t. He scarcely spoke, just walking a few steps behind me in a Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard style, with no other aspiration in life whatsoever than being a fucking creep and, believe me, outstandingly succeeding. I never asked him to do so, but he insisted on carrying my shopping bags, and diligently stood next to me in complete silence for around 45 minutes while I deepened my fingers in dusty boxes of vinyls to finally end up purchasing just one. I bought him a 2€ ice-cream in return, partly in hopes that he would choke with a piece of almond from the chocolate and almond covering and had to inopportunely run to the nearest hospital, finally leaving me alone. I’ve certainly met people far more boring than Max in my life before, but they were actually plants. I hope he gets to read this someday, provided that he manages to fix the screen of that Samsung Galaxy Mini of his, so he can come to the realization that he, in fact, should go buy a new Samsung Galaxy Mini anyway and also a personality that goes with it, if they happen to have any of that inefficient sort. I have all the ladies who ever had to experience him blowing his nose in my nightly prayers; he looks pathetic in a death-by-Pokémon-Go way. Take care, Max, and ask your doctor about that potato growing in your mouth. You may not say much, but when you do, nobody fucking understands a single word. 

All pictures taken on 11th July 2016 at Checkpoint Charlie, Berlin, Germany.

Auf Kosten der Gesundheit

“I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” 

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee

Found the dead body of a pigeon (or that, at least, is what it looked like, kind of difficult to determine with certainty due to a lack of head) on my way back from Flohschanze flea market last Saturday at around 1 pm, the second most useless hour of the day just surpassed by 11 am. The innocent creature of our Lord had been decapitated by something or someone who surely had nothing to do with our Lord, probably due to various reasons, usually whiskey. The poor thing's guts were all scattered on the ground, with subtle touches of blood and dog's urine here and there. People passing by glanced at it without amazement, and none of them took their hats off to say the Lord's Prayer to it. I can't imagine what this flying being existence was like, the struggles it went through, the lights and shadows of its lifetime, how many bread crumbs offered by mammal strangers it declined. But its trivial, worthless death looked like the most passionate, graceful thing I saw that day. One can never be thankful enough for the truth and the beauty.

All pictures taken on 23rd April 2016 in the surroundings of Uhlandstraße U-Bahn station in Hamburg, Germany.