Ranciere, the keynote, is speaking. Should we go? Fuck Ranciere, says W. He wants gin. We need gin, and didn't he see Plymouth Gin being sold in the bar. Real gin. W. wants his favourite kind of Martini, in which the glass is filled with Vermouth before it's poured away and then replaced with neat, slightly chilled Plymouth Gin and a spiral of lime peel.
We sit out in the sun with our cocktails. Don't drink too quickly!, W. says. Enjoy it! Fuck Ranciere!, he says. Yes, fuck Ranciere! We admire The Ignorant Schoolmaster – who doesn't? – but Ranciere's a boring speaker. And here we are with our gin! Autodidacticism: that's our future. We don't need to listen to speakers, we'll teach ourselves, and over gin! By means of gin!
Lars Iyer's Blog 