Still Here.

Sort of. Kind of occupied with school. There's a wasting of time outside of that, but enough to do with the end of the quarter that I haven't felt able to write much of anything. But while wasting time and not writing, a poignant passage from a Hal Foster review of the published letters of the Situationist International:

The pathos of these letters is that Situationism is falling apart even as it is coming together, and that, in the complicated machinations of his scattered group, Debord is able to perform as many acts of friendship as he does of malice.

Something about the necessary failure of the project, the way in which its critical energy was established upon its very incoherence, its constant insistence on undercutting its critical and political foundations. Guy Debord, I remember, was also on influence on Will Self and his psychogeography. Back to work.