Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

don't know what i want
don't even know what i need
if i need it
i don't want it
it demeans with the desire
i like to call it asceticism
but i've aways been a crock
it's deeper than that - more complex
one of those existential deals
that frenchie used to talk about
between croissants and espresso

An Example of Sartre's Concept of 'Bad Faith'; or, Why Simone de Beauvoir Had To Go To Chicago To Discover Multiple Orgasms With Nelson Algren [by Jim Cummins]

This is a passage from Part II, "Patterns of Bad Faith," from Chapter Two, "Bad Faith," in Jean-Paul Sartre's Being And Nothingness (Editions Gallimard, 1943; English translation, The Philosophical Library, Inc., 1956

"....We shall say that this woman is in bad faith. But we see immediately that she uses various procedures in order to maintain herself in this bad faith. She has disarmed the actions of her companion by reducing them to being only what they are; that is, to existing in the mode of the in-itself. But she permits herself to enjoy his desire, to the extent that she will apprehend it as not being what it is, will recognize its transcendence. Finally while sensing profoundly the presence of her own body--to the point of being aroused, perhaps--she realizes herself as not being her own body, and she contemplates it as though from above as a passive object to which events can happen but which can neither provoke them nor avoid them because all its possibilities are outside of it."




The Best American Poetry

As terrifying as ''No Exit'' may be for them, we the living know that change is always possible. The character is not finished, Sartre tells us, until his or her final choice is made.


http://theater.nytimes.com/mem/theater/ ... A96F948260

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.