Friday

I have caught sight of a herd of wild boar in a forest in Normandy.


I ride. I do not explain. I do not excuse. I do not classify. I go fast.

Édouard Levé

Wednesday

I broke my thumb skiing, after flying ten meters and landing on my head,


I got up and saw, as in a cartoon, circles of birthday candles turning in the air and then I fainted. I have not made love to the wife of a friend. I do not love the sound of a family on the train. I am uneasy in rooms with small windows. Sometimes I realize that what I’m in the middle of saying is boring, so I just stop talking. Art that unfolds over time gives me less pleasure than art that stops it.

Édouard Levé

Tuesday

a + b



Glenn Gould

Monday

I played house with a cousin, but there were variants,


it could be doctor (formal inspection of genitals), or thug and bourgeoise (mini-rape scene), when we played thug and bourgeoise my cousin would walk past the swing set where I’d be sitting, outside our family’s house, I would call out to her in a menacing tone of voice, she wouldn’t answer but would act afraid, she would start to run away, I would catch her and drag her into the little pool house, I would bolt the door, I’d pull the curtains, she would try vaguely to get away, I would undress her and simulate the sexual act while she cried out in either horror or pleasure, I could never tell which it was supposed to be, I forget how it used to end.

Édouard Levé

Sunday

Saturday

I learned to draw by copying pornographic photographs.


I have a foggy sense of history, and of stories in general: chronology bores me. I do not suffer from the absence of those I love. I prefer desire to pleasure. My death will change nothing.

Édouard Levé

Friday

Thursday

I have read more volumes one than volumes two.


The date on my birth certificate is wrong. I am not sure I have any influence. I talk to my things when they’re sad. I do not know why I write.

Édouard Levé

Friday

WHO THE FUCK IS JUSTIN BEAVER?


graffiti in Morgan Ave. station