Narcisse - Volume III
by Gregor Stronach
1 It’s me. It’s really, truly me. Once again, I am the master of my own domain, having forcibly removed all others from my personal space. I can swing my arms and kick my feet, free in the knowledge that I am unlikely to hit anyone other than myself. Violence, of course, is never the answer – unless the question revolves around any form of introspection or self-realisation. I am free to punch myself, metaphorically, about the head should I wish to do so. Self-harm is the ultimate expression, to be embraced by every half-baked hack and yearning Yoko of the art world. Painting is dead, sculpture passť, and photography reduced to electrons and software. This year, the truly hip will mutilate, amputate and gestate – the freaks will slice, remove and breed. And I will be in charge.
2 Ahhh... to own. An overused, slave-laboured metaphor if ever there was one. It’s the mantra of modern man - I have, therefore I am. But it’s not mere material objects that have caught my eye – I now yearn for the bright, shiny blue souls of those gathered at my feet, who gaze upon me with glassy eyes so full of adoration they look set to burst, like vine-ripened grapes in the hot midday sun. I own. I am. All things I see are mine. All property is theft. All penetration is rape. All people are players, and the world’s stage is now widely agreed to be too small to contain us. Stake your claim, and claim your stake. Piss in the corners, and mark your territory like wolves. The time has come... I am ready.
3 Come back! Come back! Breathy exhortations to move towards the light have been ignored – my time on this orbiting stone has come again. I have returned, filled with a righteous anger and boundless aggression, to be borne upon our circling orb as I see fit. Come back! Nothing has changed. You are all the same. I have seen this all before, but this time I am ready. Throw at me what you will – I am invincible. I am ageless. I am beyond reproach, unfit for consumption, unused to criticism and unable to change course. This path is predestined, and God himself cannot alter it. Even he is scared – what monster has he allowed to be created? What possible reason do I have to simply be? These questions have plagued me for eons, but now I know the answers… Now I know what needs to be done. Come back, you say… well, I have... On your head be it.
Gregor Stronach hcanortS rogerG.