Gia Edzgveradze
It is not a weakling's adoration of life
but boundless hate for it
that gives us the power to awake
I have no need to create new enigmas. All I need is an open and honest
word about my real situation: normally, it is construed as murder/
suicide, but in reality it is self-determination.
Shit (manifesto)
If anyone, alone with his fate, wants to look truth defiantly in the
eye and thus be overwhelmed by the horror of the absurd, if he is
prepared to cast off the last remnants of his hopes and dreams like
rags, then the only thing he needs is the ultimate affront.
The concept of the ultimate affront – attack the well-being
of our consciousness. The time has come for the
manifestation of shit.
From now on, I am sticking to it (shit). This is my sacrifice. Shit
is my goal, my means, my comprehension.
Only shit is profoundly and deeply insulting. Shit is the only thing
that can knock you down from within and extinguish that last spark of
ambition, which is the Cerberus of immortality. Stay with shit alone,
let it penetrate into the most intimate cracks and crevices of your
soul. You have to merge with the full depth of its fall; it has
humiliated itself boundlessly and has become the eternal sign of the
very lowest – it is Christianity, the very symbol of Christianity …
our reality, life itself, has formulated this concept of ultimate
humiliation as a sign. At the other extreme there is perfect omniscience.
Extremes meet. Shit liberates immediately and wounds for ever, heals
us of the omnipotence of decency, cowardice and comfort; shit can
uproot and destroy your self-adulation. Shit is the last chance; there
never was and never will be a better one. After that, nothing else is
insulting.
Once you have rejected value,
you notice that shit is invaluable
That which has no value is invaluable
You are one, and therein lies your freedom. Inflict this final wound
upon yourself. Not accepting shit means dismembering yourself and
creating a battlefield within you.
There is no lower step. You have reached the limit. Smear yourself with
shit and contemplate yourself in it, every day, every instant. Once
you have become one with it, you will abdicate, fade, sense what it
means not to climb, not to force yourself through anywhere, but
simply float and bob on the surface of the water, or lie around on
the ground, bleached and dried …
This is the moment at which you gain entrance to the powerful world of
ideas, where there is no room for people; but then you will no longer
be a human being.
Shit alone can stop this hasty progression. Its status has power over
everything. Shit has been with you since childhood, disturbing,
insulting and appealing.
This utter contempt, this total rejection, this breaking of all the ties
with the outside world held the charm of freedom for you. You envied
shit its total lack of responsibility, the insolent nakedness it
flaunts so shamelessly. Nothing and no one, neither skin nor
conscience, covers it. Oh, how that ecstatic exhibitionism attracted
you, how strongly you related to it, and how you wished to be
identified with it in order to achieve renewal!
But you tried to hide that feeling and furtively deny it; you were
ashamed of it because that was what you had been taught. You betrayed
it (shit), because you knew that shit was more important and more
worthy than you. You are an indeterminate something but shit is the
limit, the extreme. Yet, if you become one with shit … and therein
lies your freedom … your liberation from »humanity and something
»amongst« . . . it’s all over; there is no more definition of »amongst«
left, you are out of the game. Just like shit.
Shit awaits you as the shelter of the final refuge awaits the
wanderer. In it, your heart can recuperate after a long period without unequivocalness. Shit is your guide: through the dried-out streambed of the unceasing river of abysmal hope towards
consummation. Shit is the expression of negation; it says no to the seduction of fortune and the wiles of chance. It glows with the
refined aura that surrounds hermits; it surpasses them all in
humiliation and renunciation, and has found peace beyond the endless
wall of human contempt that separated and liberated it from human
sympathy and sorrow.
I praise thee, shit, that knows no neighbourly love, self-content and
self-fulfilled.
There is shit at every corner, our own or some dog's – the living
presence of confrontation and the silent witness to our incapacity so
far removed from our omnivorous consumption, shit remains unmoved and
imperturbable in the face of our weakness. Join it in its triumph, the
independence of total dependence. Your soul has dreamt the dream of
respite. Here is the border; this contempt will bear you the healthy
fruit of »uselessness… Muscles convulse, reason squirms,
nerves flutter … and suddenly you let yourself fall somewhere, like
shit, and lie there, somewhere below the sun or the moon, On the grass
or the road, or perhaps you are already swimming back to freedom,
towards the world, into the light and the sound of blossoms.
Humiliated and reborn.
But more of that later; first the kiss.
This is the most difficult step, truly the hardest step of all. Not
out of desire, but out of knowledge; the kiss as initiation. Yes. Now
liberation begins. Do it right now. Take it out of the cold, wet
whiteness and lead it to your lips, then touch it, feel the last
vestiges of life's fading warmth rapidly disappearing towards
contempt, giving way to solitude. This is a threshold, like death,
nothing more. Take courage …
