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Can an art of collective struggle really be made by an individual artist? My secret, if I have one, is that I honestly hate being alive. What is your secret? What is the secret of some larger collectivity? A secret shared by everyone, a secret that everyone can work toward together? But of course not exactly everyone, just those within a certain specific circle of solidarity. What secret might be large enough to hold this solidarity together? My secret, if I have one, is that I can endlessly write about how miserable I am, but most often choose not to. Some other people are as miserable but, for the most part, most other people don’t seem to be. Illusions.
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