since in the times of turbocapitalism the essence of romance has basically been written off or been sentenced to an existence in hollywood productions, we perhaps have to face the fact that love in it´s purest form – endless, tender, forgiving and unconditional – is dead. or about to die. it lies in the death throes, pursued by some who cannot believe that it has gone forever, who deny that it is on permanent leave, and who desperately wish it back.
the existence of the internet, of chatrooms and profiles, where lonely hearts form the hell of being single and misunderstood, is a prove for one fact: that love in modern times has failed.
there was in baroque times the habit of the upper classes to give, from time to time, masquerades (it can still be found in the traditional form of carnival).
carneval in venice
evenings, organized solely for the purpose of allowing the frontiers of society to be taken down, of careless banter, of love affairs and whispered secrets. it seems that our present day life has become an ongoing masquerade – in e.a.poe´s famous narration death itself enters the ball in a castle in red disguise, unheeded by the partygoers, till their very end. niklas luhmann writes in his book „Liebe als Passion“ that it has become necessary in relationsships to court the loved one in the semblance of being open and authentic, without being authentic in the least.
it is common knowledge now that nobody expects the other to be truthful, since it has be accepted in modern society that survival is only possible in playing a well thought out role, defined by habits, the futile attempts to show style in consuming and surrounding oneself with beautiful objects and toys, with the negation of the inner self, of emotion. we are afraid of emotion and wish for it nevertheless to come true. we seek princesses in golden carriages, beautiful women sequestered and imprisoned nowadays into golden cages of advertisments and pr-campaigns, on the golden screen of cinematic phantasies. we hope for heroes to safe us into their strong arms, to elope with them into a glorious future, to look up into their radiant faces trembling with joy.
it is escapism on a great scale, with the scales being tipped into desperation at any time possible: if a conflict arises, the sexual appetites fail, the struggle in everyday´s boredom quenches the dream of being not alone, but in the presence of someone we love. it seems to me that love now only can be found in determinism, in a constant battle to protect one´s feelings for the loved one, in the struggle to fall in love over and over again. it seems to be possible. and it is, i deem, our last hope. apart from going shopping forever.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005, 13:55
