Antonis Katsouris

In an interview, some years ago, the American poet and writer Wayne Koestenbaum coined the term “Post-Intimacy” which means:
Writing letters or sending messages to unknown people, to strangers, waiting no answer, no respond.
Writing from the nothing-space (or perhaps the passive space) of being a pest [το πειραχτήρι, η μικρο-ενόχληση]. You don’t want, you don’t like relations with the Other or the others. You only pester them.
The following text has been written in a random Post-Intimate mode.

The next instalment will be up on July 1st, 2017.

Antonis Katsouris is a writer based in Athens.

At your Parliament of Bodies I lost my virginity, dear Documenta.

A season in the colonies is only for amateurs, dear Documenta.

Please, let me be your parody parade, dear Documenta.

But why you’re avoiding eye-contact, dear Documenta?

Let’s explore the post-hope zeitgeist, dear Documenta.

Are you old-school or new-school, dear Documenta?

Buzz is spelled with z. Fuss is spelled with s. So is business, dear Documenta.

Remember, we live in the language of epic fail, dear Documenta.

You are my favorite dystopia, dear Documenta.

If Athens is your A, why don’t you become its fucking B, dear Documenta?

Failure is open. Everyone is invited to be kind, including you, dear Documenta.

Rosa Luxemburg never brought a yoga-mattress to meetings, dear Documenta.


Your didactic methods are always on the side of power, dear Documenta.

Feeding carrots to goldfish is confusing for everyone, dear Documenta.

Don’t mistake your art with the bourgeois nightmare, dear Documenta.

I like the colors you’re wearing today. Especially this traffic-light-red, dear Documenta.

Don’t forcefeed me with your milk of arrogance, dear Documenta.

May I hold your mirror, dear Documenta?

I believe in free-speech of paid-platforms, dear Documenta.

Do I have to apologize for this fake intimacy, dear Documenta?

I’m so jealous of your privilege… May I call you Kaiserina Kasselina, dear Documenta?

Your omission became my mission, dear Documenta.

Yes! Make bohemia undesirable again and again, dear Documenta.

Did you fuck with the past or the future, dear Documenta?

There’s no space for both of us in this swimming-pool, dear Documenta.

Perhaps you’re just a theoretical drama-queen, dear Documenta.

To be or to airbnb, dear Documenta?

It’s not always easy being completely irrelevant, dear Documenta.

I still can’t work out where this smoke-smell is coming from, dear Documenta

I’m afraid that Madame Indigenie doesn’t live here anymore, dear Documenta.

Are you a metrophage, an eater of cities, dear Documenta?

Don’ take my cumquats… Grow your own cumquats, dear Documenta.

Is it ok to offer you some of my porn stuff for The Parthenon Of Books, dear Documenta?

Do you count backwards or forwards, dear Documenta?

“A difficult customer”? Oh, not me, dear Documenta.

There’s no point getting upset for something like this, dear Documenta.

No place for “camp” in your Gender Garden, dear Documenta.

Your logic is a stereotypical father but Athens is not a stereotypical daughter, dear Documenta.

I never claimed to be a master miniaturist, dear Documenta.

Are you confusing the voice of minority with the voice of superiority, dear Documenta?

Colonnades and colonies of the exotic south… Aren’t they adorable, dear Documenta?

You’ve put so much history in your cake, dear Docuementa.

If your answer is “LET YOUR SOUTH WALK, DANCE, LISTEN & DECIDE”, you need to change the question, dear Documenta.

You know, conceptual populism creates extra gravity, dear Documenta.

I love to read body-language. Don’t talk to me, dear Documenta.

“Imported hipsters under the sun”. Is this one of your side projects, dear Documenta?

You’re searching at the wrong places, if you’re looking for the Athenian Trauma, dear Documenta.

I want to bathe in this warm pool, filled with the tears of your regrets, dear

Do I look like a truth provider or perhaps like a content seller, dear Documenta?

Please, take me to your favorite bank, dear Documenta.

Your power gives way to my humble art longing, dear Documenta.

How do you like your theory? Dry or wet, dear Documenta?

Try the proletarian desire with your clothes on, dear Documenta.

And the Apocalypse says hi… Can you hear it, dear Documenta?

In ancient Athens, April was the month of the Rites of Refusal, dear Documenta.

This year’s Whitney Biennial coined the New Sincerity… But to be honest, I do prefer your Old Sincerity, dear Documenta.

Lady Godiva, the nude protestor, as the leader of your horseback parade… But I was only dreaming, dear Documenta.

How Bauhaus is your Bacchus, dear Documenta?