chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 04/10/2026Turner’s Thames at Night feels less like a landscape than a memory dissolving into darkness. Light, smoke, water and shadow merge until the city becomes almost spectral—beautiful, unstable, and strangely modern. Nothing is fixed; everything seems to drift. 010
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 03/10/2026Heidegger saw in Van Gogh’s shoes the peasant’s world; I see the ruins of a purpose. They do not reveal Being, but exhaustion: the mute wisdom of things that have served us too long. Perhaps existence is merely this—wearing out a meaning that was never there. 060
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 03/10/2026For Baudelaire, evil is poetry’s forbidden perfume: spleen, sin, decay, desire. The poet does not redeem corruption; he gives it flowers. Beauty becomes most honest when it reeks of the grave—and poetry, like evil, exists without needing to justify its existence. 010
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 02/10/2026This morning I reread my notes in Obsidian. So many sentences seemed written by a stranger who had stolen my life. Perhaps, when we write, another self—one condemned to the same experiences—leans over us, dictating what we mistake for our own thoughts. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 01/10/2026I wrote for tomorrow, correcting the words as they resisted me. Then I discovered the quieter labor: erasing, pruning, leaving only what could withstand the silence. Writing invents the wound; revision keeps its edge. At times, the page knows more about ruin than we do. 031
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 30/09/2026Behind me, the sleepless night. Morning seems not to have followed it, only appeared: cold, grey, strangely uninhabited. The streets lie there as if awaiting people who have forgotten them. Even the coffee tastes of a distance that sleep cannot cross. 021
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 29/09/2026Beyond the horizon, darkness refuses to become knowledge. We approach it carrying names, maps, and exhausted certainties, yet the night remains intact. Perhaps the world begins precisely where our understanding ends—where the invisible keeps its ancient right to remain incomprehensible. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 28/09/2026Monday arrives like a creditor with bad breath: punctual, shameless, already demanding everything. The streets put on their miserable uniforms, and we march toward another week of small disasters, pretending coffee is courage and routine is a reason to live. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 27/09/2026 Jaak Mošker’s photography feels intimate and quietly unsettling—raw fragments of everyday life shaped by shadow, solitude, and fleeting gestures. His images turn ordinary moments into something dreamlike, melancholic, and deeply human. 050
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 27/09/2026Y.’s mauve nightgown lies beside me like an accusation. She has gone out, and I ache for her warmth. Yet the more I desire her, the more guilty I feel—as though longing itself were a betrayal. Even my suffering seems corrupt: a pleasure disguised as pain, another lie I willingly believe. 010
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 27/09/2026Last night, Blanchot reading: Le Très-Haut In Le Très-Haut, Blanchot turns authority into an abyss: power outlives its masters and becomes anonymous, impersonal, almost metaphysical. The self fades before its logic, while language trembles between obedience, silence, and revolt, endlessly on. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 24/09/2026The morning arrives without light, as if the sky had forgotten its duty. Beneath its dark, indifferent weight, the streets appear abandoned by meaning. One walks through the grey silence and senses that desolation is not a mood, but the truest form of memory. 021
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 23/09/2026This is one of Meillassoux most radical anti-metaphysical formulations: reality does not necessarily conceal a deeper explanation. “There is no longer a mystery, not because there is no longer a problem, but because there is no longer a reason.” — Quentin Meillassoux 120
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 23/09/2026“When I stood beneath a two-hundred-year-old tree,” B. said, “I was seized by the humiliating discovery that the world had managed perfectly well without me. It had roots; I had reasons. For seven days I suffered my redundancy—until even despair, bored by me, abandoned me.” 010
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 22/09/2026Day comes without mercy: a pale morning, no coffee, cigarettes forgotten, and the day already demanding to be endured. I remain in bed, postponing existence by minutes. Dawn is not a beginning, but an accusation—another day I have somehow failed to escape. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 20/09/2026It is Sunday. The sun shines with the indecency of the innocent. I have no reason to be unhappy, which is precisely why I am. Perhaps life keeps accounts more faithfully than memory: every vanished happiness returns as a debt, and we pay it in darkness. 031
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 18/09/2026Reading Ingeborg Bachmann is like entering a room where language has already died, yet its corpse still speaks. Each page leaves a wound too lucid to heal: beauty becomes an accusation, and silence, the only honest refuge. Her sentences do not console; they indict. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 17/09/2026A morning like a bruise: thick clouds hanging from a sky gone nearly black. Nature, that shameless mimic, has copied my mood with perfect fidelity. Even the light looks exhausted, as if it too has finally understood there is nothing to celebrate. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 16/09/2026Wassily Kandinsky’s “Ruhige Biegung ” captivates with its delicate, harmonious balance of gentle forms and deep colors. The work radiates a meditative stillness in which soft curves seem like a silent melody—a true masterpiece that touches our souls! 051
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 14/09/2026" I see nothing liberating in being fully yourself. Look deep into anyone, you or me, and you will see we are all full of shit, dark and obscene desires… We are entering a shameless era. I think the left should rediscover shame and moral restraint.” __ Slavoj Žižek: The Pervert’s Guide to Utopia 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 13/09/2026Peace, perhaps. I walked the empty park. The city fell away behind the trees, as though it had never been. For a little while I fell away too. No city, no self. Only someone walking, strangely easier to bear than the man I had been. Or so it seemed. Nothing, nothing at. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 12/09/2026Rimbaud crossed continents only to escape the sentence he had once written against the world. Poetry became a wound he refused to reopen. He exchanged the delirium of words for the silence of roads—proof that even genius can become intolerable when it has said too much. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 11/09/2026Paul Celan does not write poems; he tears open the silence and leaves the wound speaking. His words crawl out of the ruins like drunk ghosts, refusing consolation. There is no beauty here, only the obscene persistence of language after God, history, and man have all failed. 051
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 11/09/2026My library is a cemetery where the dead refuse silence. The old books return, faithful as regrets. The new ones arrive like dawn—another deception. Between memory and discovery, I hesitate. Perhaps reading is merely learning to perish twice: once in returning, once in leaving. 050
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 10/09/2026Only the procedures of habit persist; everything else collapses. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 08/09/2026"In our darkness there is no a single place for beauty. All the place is for love.” — René Char, letter to Paul Celan, 1959 Char's sentence is almost an anti-aesthetic manifesto... In genuine darkness, beauty becomes morally insufficient. Beauty can decorate suffering, but love enters it. 091
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 07/09/2026"What I seek in the poem is not refuge, but a place where truth can breathe, even if only briefly.” — Paul Celan to René Char 1267
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 05/09/2026Saturday light seeps through the curtains like a failed apology. After a night without sleep, the body refuses its old obedience. I lie between two failures: the one behind me, the other taking shape ahead. Morning enters, but finds nothing alive to greet it. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 03/09/2026Spilliaert’s snow is a silence crossed by iron. The pylons rise like black thoughts, carrying an invisible fire above the sleeping fields. Nothing speaks; yet something passes overhead—cold electricity, a last pulse of the world refusing to die. 0102
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 01/09/2026Sleep comes in short intervals, interrupted by long deserts of wakefulness. And the day, the damned day, returns without mercy, collecting its daily tax from whatever remains of me. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 31/08/2026Odilon Redon — His eye hangs above us like God’s insomnia. It does not look upon the world; it condemns it for existing. In its pupil there is no salvation, only the suspicion that we were born beneath a foreign gaze. To look is to consent to our own guilt. 050
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 31/08/2026Kafka: writing at the edge of things. Deleuze and Guattari turn it into a small machine of escape. But escape to where? Perhaps literature is strongest precisely where there is no exit, and yet, sentence after sentence, it continues to invent one. 050
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 30/08/2026Allen Michie’s essay dismantles the saintly Van Gogh myth and asks us to look beyond the “hagiography machine.” It restores the artist’s contradictions, failures, and humanity, making his work more unsettling—and more alive Beyond the Great Van Gogh Hagiography Machine artsfuse.org/295066/book-...artsfuse.orgBook Review: Going Beyond the Great Van Gogh Hagiography Machine - The Arts FuseÉmile Bernard, to his credit, spends much of his life redeeming rather than demeaning his friend. 060
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 29/08/2026The obsession to expose oneself in social media is perhaps the last form of solitude: we display every wound, every joy, every insignificant hour, begging strangers to confirm our existence. We no longer live—we document our disappearance, awaiting applause from those who will forget us. 040
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 28/08/2026The sea keeps its secret at the horizon, where the visible world becomes a question. I watch that thin, trembling line: neither departure nor arrival, but the wound through which the unknown breathes. Perhaps mystery begins precisely where sight ends. 081
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 26/08/2026Edward Hopper’s The Dory (1929) captures solitude without drama . Light falls across the empty space like a silent question. Nothing happens, yet everything feels suspended—between arrival and departure, presence and absence. 061
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 26/08/2026I wake without coffee or a cigar, deprived of the petty vices that lend existence its miserable charm. Morning finds me defenseless before consciousness. To awaken is merely to resume our sentence, without appeal—and, most humiliating of all, without even the courtesy of surprise. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 25/08/2026Imitation of Edvard Munch’s iconic The Scream, reimagined by Hungarian photographer Vilmos Skuta. 050
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 24/08/2026"The absolute rule is to give back what you have received. Never less, always more. The absolute rule of thinking is to give the world back just as we received it—incomprehensible—and, if possible, even more incomprehensible. Even more enigmatic." — Jean Baudrillard: >Le crime parfait< 031
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 24/08/2026« Ton tableau a l’odeur d’un bouquet d’étoiles de chaleur. » — René Char, letter to Nicolas de Staël, 8 April 1952 041
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 23/08/2026Mass media have not merely colonized our attention; they have colonized our solitude. They spare us the burden of thinking by flooding us with opinions. In their endless noise, silence becomes suspicious—and thought, an almost forgotten form of resistance. 082
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 22/08/2026Parallels Midas could turn everything into gold. The digital human can turn everything into attention. Both lead to a world in which true value disappears. 062
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 21/08/2026William Faulkner’s dictum, “If I have the choice between nothingness and pain, I choose pain,” leads to the conclusion that horror vacui represents a far more profound experience of pain. One might speak of a “world-weariness.” 040
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 21/08/2026After a night without sleep, morning feels like a punishment for having existed. The light enters reluctantly, as if ashamed of itself. I have no desire to begin the day; yet another day begins me. Fatigue is perhaps the purest form of lucidity. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 20/08/2026If Hegel were alive, he might call our age the triumph of the Spirit—after a nervous breakdown. History has become a machine for producing noise, progress a ritual of panic. Yet he would smile: even our absurdity serves the Dialectic. Misery, at least, has a logic, too. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 19/08/2026Van Gogh—his SUMMER EVENING holds the last light of day like a fragile secret. The fields glow in violet silence, while the distant village flickers with life. It is not simply dusk, but a brief passage between solitude and hope, earth and infinity. 030
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 19/08/2026In Čiurlionis, the landscape seems less a place than the memory of a place. The earth has withdrawn, leaving behind a silence that resembles eternity. His horizons do not promise escape; they remind us that even infinity can become another form of solitude. 040
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 17/08/2026Behind the stone, barely visible, a small piece of ocean remains on the grey horizon. As if the world, having exhausted its vastness, had left this fragment hidden there—an afterthought of infinity, quietly refusing to disappear. 071
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 16/08/2026Reading "The Antichrist" is like entering a church with a torch and discovering that the altar is made of bones. Nietzsche does not merely attack faith; he tears its mask from the face of weakness. I read him and felt my own pieties shiver in the dark. 020
chimeric chronicles @chimericchronicles.bsky.social · 13/08/2026Last night, René Cravel reading: La mort difficile In La Mort difficile Crevel makes despair almost elegant. His characters suffer as if suffering were their last luxury. Death is never far away; it waits beside desire, patient and indifferent, while life continues its absurd little performance. 020