David Given Schwarm

A science of the “human” is not possible, Foucault argues, not because man is qualitatively different from everything else in the cosmos, but because he is precisely the same as everything else.

Well we all need someone we can dream on.

Madness is the punishment of a disorderly and useless science.

We have onto to speak of an object to think that we are being objective. But, because we chose it in the first place, the object reveals more about us than we do about it.

Today we are going to Disneyland for Kates birthday – we will be meeting some of her friends and having lunch at Ariels Grotto, which has been renamed the princess kitchen or something. Kate is so excited – she has learned to sing the happy birthday song (with the cha-cha-cha ending). Jack is also really…

I had come to New York at the start of the e1960’s, eager to put to work the writer I had, since adolescence, pledged myself to become. My idea of a writer” Someone interested in “everything.” I had always had interests of many kinds, so it was natural for me to conceive of the vocation…

America is a land of masking jokers.

The possession of a camera can inspire something akin to lust. And like all credible forms of lust, it cannot be satisfied: first, because the possibilities of photography are infinite; and, second, because the project is finally self-devouring. The attempts by photographers to bolster up a depleted sense of reality contribute to the depletions. Our…

The policy of equivocating about the nature of their disease with cancer patients reflects the conviction that dying people are best spared the news that they are dying, and that the good death is the sudden one, best of all if it happens while we’re unconscious or asleep. Yet the modern denial of death does…

I am strongly drawn to camp, and almost as strongly offended by it. That is why I want to talk about it, and why I can. For no one who wholeheartedly shares in a given sensibility can analyze it’ he can only, whatever his intention exhibit it. To name a sensibility, to draw it contours…