For people who don’t understand the meaning behind the song, the singer has stated in multiple interviews he was in a bar in Liverpool when “love will tear us apart” by joy division came on. The singer of the wombats (murph) finds it ironic that people got up and started dancing happily to a song which talks about very dark subjects hence the irony...
[Chorus]
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah, we're already
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah
[Verse 1]
How come nobody told me?
If you knew, you should've told me
How come life gets harder?
There's always someone smarter
Yeah, I'm just a fuckin' loser
But so what? You're a fuckin' loser
All they say is "just work harder"
Life keeps moving on and on, yeah
[Chorus]
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah
[Verse 2]
But when you go, you take a piece of my soul
'Cause you and I are identical
Runnin' low on these chemicals
That's always how this shit goes
I know you hate me now, it's cool
It's nothin' new, you're supposed to
So why'd you say I was hard to lose?
You wouldn't leave, so I had to
[Chorus]
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah
If we're not growing, then we're already dead
Why'd you leave me flowers at the foot of my bed?
'Cause if they're not growing, then we're already dead
Yeah, we're already dead, yeah
[Outro]
Send me pink and green hearts
Why is this hard?
Send me pink and green hearts
Why is this so hard for me?
Every day now feels do-or-die
I wake up sick, I don't wanna try
Every day now feels do-or-die
I wake up and I just start to cry
Every day now feels do-or-die
I wake up sick, I don't wanna try
Every day now feels do-or-die
I wake up and I just start to cry
Now the banal reality has become aestheticized, all reality is trans-aestheticized, and that is the very problem. Art was a form, and then it became more and more no more a form but a value, an aesthetic value, and so we come from art to aesthetics… And as art becomes aesthetics it joins with reality, it joins with the banality of reality. Because all reality becomes aesthetical, too, then it’s a total confusion between art and reality, and the result of this confusion is hyperreality. But, in this sense, there is no more radical difference between art and realism. And this is the very end of art. As form.–Jean Baudrillard, 2005
Is there still an aesthetic illusion? And if not, a path to an “aesthetic” illusion, the radical illusion of secret, seduction and magic? Is there still, on the edges of hypervisibility, of virtuality, room for an image?–Jean Baudrillard, "The Conspiracy of Art" (2005)
More here.
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
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from Wiki on Julia KristevaThe "semiotic" and the "symbolic"[edit]
One of Kristeva's most important contributions is that signification is composed of two elements, the symbolic and the semiotic, the latter being distinct from the discipline of semiotics founded by Ferdinand de Saussure. As explained by Augustine Perumalil, Kristeva's "semiotic is closely related to the infantile pre-Oedipal referred to in the works of Freud, Otto Rank, Melanie Klein, British Object Relation psychoanalysis, and Lacan's pre-mirror stage. It is an emotional field, tied to the instincts, which dwells in the fissures and prosody of language rather than in the denotative meanings of words."[19] Furthermore, according to Birgit Schippers, the semiotic is a realm associated with the musical, the poetic, the rhythmic, and that which lacks structure and meaning. It is closely tied to the "feminine", and represents the undifferentiated state of the pre-Mirror Stage infant.[20]
Upon entering the Mirror Stage, the child learns to distinguish between self and other, and enters the realm of shared cultural meaning, known as the symbolic. In Desire in Language (1980), Kristeva describes the symbolic as the space in which the development of language allows the child to become a "speaking subject," and to develop a sense of identity separate from the mother. This process of separation is known as abjection, whereby the child must reject and move away from the mother in order to enter into the world of language, culture, meaning, and the social. This realm of language is called the symbolic and is contrasted with the semiotic in that it is associated with the masculine, the law, and structure. Kristeva departs from Lacan in the idea that even after entering the symbolic, the subject continues to oscillate between the semiotic and the symbolic. Therefore, rather than arriving at a fixed identity, the subject is permanently "in process". Because female children continue to identify to some degree with the mother figure, they are especially likely to retain a close connection to the semiotic. This continued identification with the mother may result in what Kristeva refers to in Black Sun (1989) as melancholia (depression), given that female children simultaneously reject and identify with the mother figure.
It has also been suggested (e.g., Creed, 1993) that the degradation of women and women's bodies in popular culture (and particularly, for example, in slasher films) emerges because of the threat to identity that the mother's body poses: it is a reminder of time spent in the undifferentiated state of the semiotic, where one has no concept of self or identity. After abjecting the mother, subjects retain an unconscious fascination with the semiotic, desiring to reunite with the mother, while at the same time fearing the loss of identity that accompanies it. Slasher films thus provide a way for audience members to safely reenact the process of abjection by vicariously expelling and destroying the mother figure.
Kristeva is also known for her adoption of Plato’s idea of the chora, meaning "a nourishing maternal space" (Schippers, 2011). Kristeva's idea of the chora has been interpreted in several ways: as a reference to the uterus, as a metaphor for the relationship between the mother and child, and as the temporal period preceding the Mirror Stage. In her essay Motherhood According to Giovanni Bellini from Desire in Language (1980), Kristeva refers to the chora as a "non-expressive totality formed by drives and their stases in a motility that is full of movement as it is regulated." She goes on to suggest that it is the mother's body that mediates between the chora and the symbolic realm: the mother has access to culture and meaning, yet also forms a totalizing bond with the child.
Kristeva is also noted for her work on the concept of intertextuality.
Often, to amuse themselves, the men of a crew- Charles Baudelaire, "The Albatross"
Catch albatrosses, those vast sea birds
That indolently follow a ship
As it glides over the deep, briny sea.
Scarcely have they placed them on the deck
Than these kings of the sky, clumsy, ashamed,
Pathetically let their great white wings
Drag beside them like oars.
That winged voyager, how weak and gauche he is,
So beautiful before, now comic and ugly!
One man worries his beak with a stubby clay pipe;
Another limps, mimics the cripple who once flew!
The poet resembles this prince of cloud and sky
Who frequents the tempest and laughs at the bowman;
When exiled on the earth, the butt of hoots and jeers,
His giant wings prevent him from walking.
When I know you are coming home
I put on this necklace:
glass beads on a silken thread,
a blue that used to match my eyes.
I like to think I am remembering you.
I like to think you don’t forget.
The necklace lies heavy on my skin,
it clatters when I reach down
to lift my screaming child.
I swing her, roll her in my arms until she forgets.
The beads glitter in the flicker of a TV set
as I sit her on my lap
and wish away the afternoon.
I wait until I hear a gate latch lift
the turn of key in lock.
I sit amongst toys and unwashed clothes,
I sit and she fingers the beads until you speak
in a voice that no longer seems familiar, only strange.
I turn as our child tugs at the string.
I hear a snap and a sound like falling rain.
Kate Bass, "The Albatross"
A shoe with legs,a stone dropped from heaven,he does his mournful work alone,
he is the old prospector for golf,
with secret dreams of God-heads and fish heads.
Until suddenly a cradle fastens round him
and his is trapped as the U.S.A. sleeps.
Somewhere far off a woman lights a cigarette;
somewhere far off a car goes over a bridge;
somewhere far off a bank is held up.
This is the world the lobster knows not of.
He is the old hunting dog of the sea
who in the morning will rise from it
and be undrowned
and they will take his perfect green body
and paint it red
The Swallow's Tail — Series of Catastrophes (French: La queue d'aronde — Série des catastrophes) was Salvador Dalí's last painting. It was completed in May 1983, as the final part of a series based on the mathematical catastrophe theory of René Thom.Thom suggested that in four-dimensional phenomena, there are seven possible equilibrium surfaces, and therefore seven possible discontinuities, or "elementary catastrophes": fold, cusp, swallowtail, butterfly, hyperbolic umbilic, elliptic umbilic, and parabolic umbilic. "The shape of Dalí's Swallow's Tail is taken directly from Thom's four-dimensional graph of the same title, combined with a second catastrophe graph, the s-curve that Thom dubbed, 'the cusp'. Thom's model is presented alongside the elegant curves of a cello and the instrument's f-holes, which, especially as they lack the small pointed side-cuts of a traditional f-hole, equally connote the mathematical symbol for an integral in calculus: ∫."In his 1979 speech, Gala, Velázquez and the Golden Fleece, presented upon his 1979 induction into the prestigious Académie des Beaux-Arts of the Institut de France, Dalí described Thom's theory of catastrophes as "the most beautiful aesthetic theory in the world". He also recollected his first and only meeting with René Thom, at which Thom purportedly told Dalí that he was studying tectonic plates; this provoked Dalí to question Thom about the railway station at Perpignan, France (near the Spanish border), which the artist had declared in the 1960s to be the center of the universe.Thom reportedly replied, "I can assure you that Spain pivoted precisely — not in the area of — but exactly there where the Railway Station in Perpignan stands today". Dalí was immediately enraptured by Thom's statement, influencing his painting Topological Abduction of Europe — Homage to René Thom, the lower left corner of which features an equation closely linked to the "swallow's tail": {\displaystyle V=x^{5}+ax^{3}+bx^{2}+cx,}V=x^{5}+ax^{3}+bx^{2}+cx, an illustration of the graph, and the term queue d'aronde. The seismic fracture that transverses Topological Abduction of Europe reappears in The Swallow's Tail at the precise point where the y-axis of the swallow's tail graph intersects with the S-curve of the cusp.
I've grown complacent I cannot think
I am the third swan, the non-white one
The not quite sun on the water of Leith
Ducking I am diving for political belief
I am dragging up scum
I am the waste from the slums I am
You can have your cake
But someone else will scoff
I cannot live to ninety five
I want to die whilst I am alive
I rode shotgun with the roof down
Amusement arcade dance
How the Vauxhall bounced
The Kinkell Braes I, I swore took aim, ayeI am a king of the world
A king of the world shot down
You hit the new year sprinting gold
No late December weight upon your shoulders
Now you're shot of me
My balance the envy of a new born foal
My sea legs knocking in the shallows
Now you're shot of me
I rode shotgun with the roof down
Amusement arcade dance
How the Vauxhall bounced
The Kinkell Braes I, I swore took aim, aye
I am a king of the world
A king of the world shot down
I rode shotgun with the roof down
Amusement arcade dance
I am a king of the world shot down
If you want to find out what it's all about,Evelyn Judy Buehler, "East End, Where The Toughs Hang Out"
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
Where street-smart girls, their skirts unfurled-
Through the wicked streets whirl.
Nights down there-always stark,
Hipcats smiling in the dark;
And the sun shines down through all the days-
Down on wayward ways!
Dead flowers lie in the street,
As people run from the heat.
Rose tattoo and butterfly;
Ruby lips; mascara eye.
Motorcycles in the mist,
Flashing lights; clenched fist;
They move as if in a craze,
Through the city's maze.
In the streets and alleyways, they clash,
Seasons change with a splash,
But, warriors ever, ever advance-
Though they haven't a chance!
If you want to find out what it's all about,
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
In leather pant, and faded jean-
It's noplace, if you get what I mean.
The silver Swan, who, living, had no Note.
when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat.Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:"Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes!More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise."
It was sometime close to midnightWhile the sky was weeping rainThat a woman waited anxiouslyFor the arrival of her train.She’d forgotten her umbrellaAnd her clothes were soaking throughBut she was so upsetThat I’m not sure she even knew.She didn’t have a suitcaseOr a penny to her nameJust the ticket clutched in handAnd a worn coat stitched up with blame.Her goal was very simple:All she'd wanted was to runSo she’d left the life she knew behindTo escape what she had done.There'd been no time for last goodbyesBefore she’d fled awayBut she felt it didn’t matterSince there was nothing she could say.No words could mend a broken heartNor fix rejection’s awful stingNor turn a life made up of autumnsInto something resembling spring.So when at last her train appearedShe exhaled in reliefThinking as she boardedShe'd get to leave behind her grief.After all, the train was her salvationPledged to take her somewhere newTo where she'd reinvent herselfAnd stage a new debut.So as she handed in her ticketAnd took an open seatShe smiled at the thoughtThat she’d dealt her demons firm defeat.But little did she realizeIt was a war she’d never winFor you can’t outrun your demonsWhen they come from deep within.
Assédic is the partial acronym of "Association pour l’emploi dans l’industrie et le commerce" (Association for Employment in Industry and Trade). Created in 1958, it was a French agency that collected and paid unemployment insurance contributions. It was associated with the UNEDIC agency, which set the amount of the contributions. In 2009, it was merged with the ANPE into the new agency Pôle emploi.
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The Revenu minimum d'insertion (RMI) was a French form of social welfare. It is aimed at people without any income who are of working age but do not have any other rights to unemployment benefits (such as contributions-based unemployment benefits). It was created in 1988 by Jean-Michel Belorgey, by the government of Michel Rocard (Socialist Party), and aimed at helping people who had the most problems with finding work.
The RMI has been fully replaced by the Revenu de solidarité active (RSA) in 2009, after a transition starting in 2007.
Established in 1931, the Prisunic chain of stores democratized the universe of furniture and clothing at the end of the 1950s, “Beauty for the price of ugliness” became the slogan created by Denise Fayolle, director of the style department from 1957 to 1967. A pioneer for its formula of mail order selling, in 1968 it published its first catalogue skillfully displaying furniture, lighting, tableware and textiles. Each catalogue was given to a designer who brought together creators such as the graphic designer Roman Cieslewicz and the photographer Peter Knapp. The first collection was designed by Terence Conran, the founder of Habitat in London in 1964, followed by Olivier Mourgue, Gae Aulenti, Marc Held and Jean-Pierre Garrault. The last catalogue appeared in spring-summer of 1976.
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The Réseau Express Régional (English: Regional Express Network), commonly abbreviated RER (French pronunciation: [ɛʁ.ə.ɛʁ]), is a hybrid commuter rail and rapid transit system serving Paris and its suburbs. The RER combines the operations and roles of a local city-centre underground rail system and suburbs-to-city-centre commuter rail. Inside the city centre, the RER functions much like the Paris Métro, although it is faster, as it has fewer stops. This has made it a model for proposals to improve transit within other cities
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Chesney Henry "Chet" Baker Jr. (December 23, 1929 – May 13, 1988) was an American jazz trumpeter and vocalist. He is known for major innovations within the cool jazz subgenre leading him to be nicknamed the "prince of cool".[3]
Baker earned much attention and critical praise through the 1950s, particularly for albums featuring his vocals (Chet Baker Sings, It Could Happen to You). Jazz historian Dave Gelly described the promise of Baker's early career as "James Dean, Sinatra, and Bix, rolled into one."[4] His well-publicized drug habit also drove his notoriety and fame. Baker was in and out of jail frequently before enjoying a career resurgence in the late 1970s and 1980s.
