How fucking hard it is to write, how fucking hard to avoid taking for granted the pressing down of  keys, phrasing, spontaneity, style, genre, the expected, the fake submiting to importance in combination of signs and the bull-shit ‘I know everything, but can’t do anything’ criticism, authorship, the originality of ideas, the originality of practices; in short: identification. The eternal identification, which is just another name for consumption, market –spetialty, -niche, -communication… Without influence on actual relationships, without critical, political or participatory potential. The rotten bourgeois mediocracy, equating freedom with numerous possibilities for selling. In the middle of the same machinery, day in and day out…

On this horizon, the renovation of Pekarna is just a project, serving as the authority's tool for normalization, and the final inclusion of a certain kind of sociability into its production mode. The arrangement of a social and cultural niche in the city centre, its move into such or such dominant frames (be it legal, content, architectual, or other kind)… they will finally get their 'homeland right'…

We are the future! May that sound conceitedly or pathetic, but if we don't dare to write down that we are the future, and vouche for it with our own existence, we cannot take the responsibility for the renovation, and everything it has to enable… That's why we take it damn seriously…

We are putting all of our cards on the table, because there won't be a possibility of a second or third Pekarna. There will only be new Renovations. Pekarna is celebrating its 16th anniversary these days, and at the same time, we are starting with the renovation of the first building. The beginning and the end coming together, all that left are dicisions, and the daily fight for alternative socialibility. What exactly that is, nobody really knows. Therefore! VIVA.

Stalker