ENGLISH: Rage against the machine: Confessions

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Actually I’m not talking about the band, which is surprising, because I’ve been waiting for somebody burning himself to make the world watch how numb we are – just like on the famous cover. Guess what, I am talking about Facebook again.

Since I’ve logged out, I wonder what the people that once had the status “friend” are doing the whole time. Hold on, nope, I am not. Surprisingly, when I meet somebody (if I meet somebody at all), we get into this awkward situation of having to ask each other what has been going on for the last – say – three months. Can you imagine that? Talking to absolute strangers, aka “friends”? There are no communication pieces. No breadcrumbs 2.0. We cannot go on talking about something we’ve been commenting on. There is no: “How is the divorce proceeding?” It’s more a quietly uttered: “I didn’t even know you were married.” Or: “Cool, you’ve got kids!” Instead of: “Is your little Britney still that ugly?”

How wonderfully relaxing was the time when I knew about everybody’s bowel movement. How fantastic to see that somebody that I used to know joined in the act of taking photos of landscapes that I wouldn’t have seen – and, by the way, wouldn’t have wanted to have to look at – anyway. I remember that it took me hours to scroll through the sad and dull boredom that some people call their life.

You could say: “Well, but you’re still using Facebook as a means of sharing your shit with complete strangers, while, on the other hand, you are not up to date with your friends.” That’s true. I am abusing the media 2.0 for my weird sentences about the bad world.

But why do I write this anyway? Honestly, I miss you. I miss the pain and the scorn looking at somebody’s bruises or food or ugly animals and thinking: “Why the fuck are you sharing this?” I miss the “wisdoms”, these little sentences about the world that consist of so much truth that you want to slap the one who posted it. I miss the statements of weird an crazy half-Nazi like teenagers who want to show that they are not afraid of the consequences of their actions, partly, because they don’t think that far and partly, because a single consequence would make them as happy as a hippie child in the sixties on a McDonalds birthday trip.

You may think this is irony, you may think this is my very own way of boredom 2.0. But honestly: irony has killed itself when it became friends with modernity. So, to sum it up: I am not burning, let alone lighting a candle. It’s raining outside. I just wanted to tell you junkies that I miss you a lot. In some weird kind of way.

Pictures by Thomas Clemens

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