Dear X,
I came across this youtube playlist of all the Duras’ films two weeks ago and started playing them in the morning while i do my makeup and spend time in front of the mirror to examine my face and my clothes before leaving home. not that i could understand what she says, her voice is almost an ambient noise in my bedroom. i was to write an analysis on Césarée but didn’t bother to in the end. I pulled out some blanchot references, some anne carson references, and left them with chatgpt. sometimes i do want to treat things seriously, only to find out that i have no such ability. i feel a strong kin to Duras, in terms that i don’t want to and probably cannot explain—certain things can only be approached in a digital way of thinking, not an analog one (i think of alexander galloway on deleuze), automation vs what? what’s the exact word he used. i forgot. i have done too much thinking lately, more intensively than before, a lucid acid trip extended, i almost feel like i got it, i solved some puzzles that cannot be solved before, in regards to Art, its function after postmodernity, after neoliberal capitalism, and in regards to my own relation to art and my ways of working, some sort of existential purpose, it’s finally clear, again. and that leads to some neurosis, or maybe it’s only because i drink too much lately, or both, i wrote to K years ago that there was as much certainty as confusion, and now this mixture of hope and disillusionment comes back again, as i realized the exact same sentence comes back to my throat, except i want to say it to you this time. i realize there are something recursive in my passivity, not sure if it’s spiraling up or down, every time i thought i reached some reconciliation, only to be disappointed later with seeing the patterns of the same thing coming back, heavier, bigger. it certainly isn’t necessarily a bad thing, i can even look at it in a buddhist way, as in, i do look at it in a buddhist way often times. but those doubts on nearly everything, i feel like im too privileged to have those doubts, another doubt, sometimes i fantasize about being able to customize a combo of lies and truths and whatever pretty things, like something that you can order online, in a snap, just like that, and i could feel less alone in this world. N came to my studio today. i was a little surprised that shortly after i started watching (or listening and reading youtube comments of) all those Duras’ films, the first time i showed N any of my work, Duras was the first name, if not the first word that came out of her mouth. i don’t know how i should feel about this. of course im not bothered by if my work was being too derivative, i barely paid attention to any of duras film or writing except that vietnam chinese guy and french girl film, i watched it long time ago, almost as a kid, and i was like whatever. i think i was first happy when N brought up the name, and we carried on a very nice conversation or perhaps digression, of images, of time and cinema, and of writing. i felt less alone for a second except she thought that it was me who chose writing and of which that gives me joy, we only talked about joy. there certainly are a lot of joy, but rooted in immense horror and helplessness. i feel more and more alone in this world. and i started to think about my fate and if im subordinated to art, if its too late to act or be otherwise. then i started thinking of you a lot, more intensively than usual, it makes me feel less alone, but at the same time more alone, a different aloneness.