my baby don't care for shows/And he don't even care for clothes/He cares for me/My baby don't care/For cars and races/My baby don't care for/He don't care for high-tone places
My baby just cares for me
Destiny neurosis: that there are human beings driven forward, from where they have been, into the reductive gestures of riot, driven forward into the flames and confrontation; becoming living flames, and briefly, living confrontations and then falling back into non-distinction. That they cannot but revel in this restricted set of behaviours... short term revelling signalling the limit, signalling the absence of subjectivity. That there are human beings manifesting as a mechanism, as a sort of fail-safe instrument, who are bound into a knot of incompatible logics, into the contested spaces, into the tensed relations. That they are imbuing the architecture of pure determination with a particularised, if mask-like, persona. That there are human beings whose assigned behaviour, whose necessary objective function, is to regress and simplify their given situation back to an earlier stage. That they are living and breathing, moment by moment, as instruments of value destruction, as instruments of value renewal. That they are the mules, who by carrying out the means, things never being the same again, thereby ensure the end, things will always be the same again.