4/8/2019 3:52 PM

You only love the individual and the universal as an undifferentiated unity once—the first time you love.* Whatever its pragmatic benefit, disinvesting an iteration of a given attractive quality—making it only an instance of [whatever]—is a death warrant for intensity. To love [x] is to love no singularity that qualifies as [x] as the absolute, only as one possible manifestation of the ideal category you direct yourself towards erotically (insert whatever ideal category you wish here).
A libidinal logic, a categorical copulatory imperative, a game of romantic substitution.

* This is within a conventional erotic framework; there is, inherent within the recognition of a libininal logic, the option to dismantle said logic — to decategorize/de-generalize one’s affects, an option which I am, myself, hoping to actualize.



You saw my clothes—my words, my gestures, the air I carried—and you said, “I love you”
I took off my clothes and was flesh—you saw skin, and shape, and scar, the manifold production of a life—and you said, “I love you”
I took off my flesh and was vein and blood and chemical and you saw the pure universality of my core, that undifferentiated wellspring, that fragmentary origin —the pulsing organs, secretions of hormones, muscles sleek with acid and labor, and you said, “I love you”
(Though I was then any “you” at all.)
I became bones as my organs wilted and dropped off, like overripe fruit, like flowers past their prime—you saw the pearly bones of my mineral species, billions like me before, trillions after—and you said, “I loved you”
(Though there was no “you” left, only we as we are destined to be, one in the metamorphic leveling, the cataclysmic, final judgement with no criteria—that one has lived and that one has died, the earth accepts us each into its indifferent arms)

3/20/2019—The fruition of shower thoughts

And so they tell us, “her ways lead unto death”, warning of snares which promise joy and yield demise
And so we learn to spot the horror of tomorrow in the joys of today, so we learn the gospel of futurity
But when all ways lead onto death, when dissolution is just the final term in a series of undoings—
When a snare is but a shorter way towards that which is destined—
What clear way ahead is there, what straight and narrow way through the course of the future?
(What is the finality that justifies the way we live—more life?)
And so the true snare is the realization of the indifference of all snares—the indifference of all things in the cataclysm which awaits every existent.
“Be ye like little children”, meaning only the belief in immortality—the unquestioned projection towards an indefinite horizon—is the only way to live with any vigour,
Any way which would deserve that grandor which living connotes.
I will never die, or I am dead already.
(To posit ones end as inevitable is live that end as the meaning of one’s life—being-towards-death.)
<<what is living death?——what is the hell of existing?>>
“Heidegger makes a distinction between anticipation (Vorlaufen) and expectation or awaiting (Erwarten). His claim is that the awaiting of death still contains too much of the actual, where death would be the actualisation of possibility. Such would be a gloomy philosophy of morbidity. On the contrary, for Heidegger, anticipation does not passively await death, but mobilises mortality as the condition for free action in the world.
This results in a hugely important and seemingly paradoxical thought: freedom is not the absence of necessity, in the form of death. On the contrary, freedom consists in the affirmation of the necessity of one’s mortality. It is only in being-towards-death that one can become the person who one truly is. Concealed in the idea of death as the possibility of impossibility is the acceptance on one’s mortal limitation as the basis for an affirmation of one’s life.”
From (my google search):
Is the finiteness of life the condition for the freedom of action, of thought, and of being which we enjoy within it? Heidegger would say so—or so this Critchley fellow would say Heidegger would say. What does the anticipation of death differ from the awaiting of death? We make ready for our Heideggerian god—multiply our talents, experiences, meanings—so that we might present them unto death, present in a presentation which cannot be that? We live more fully, more freely, in recognizing the nothingness which surrounds our small island of light?
Perhaps so, perhaps—but the only way out is through a childhood of symbolism, a universe which is so not what I was taught it was, so much emptier. Hell is not empty (the earth is its bowels) but heaven, that is but a void of space.
Is a child aware of mortality OR immortality? (Positing neither: what of that?)

A single point: around it or only it?

While I am, by any standards, a horrible musician, I do find the practice of music valuable for insights into how my brain works, how my thoughts feed into the efficiency of my movements. The concept of a groove is pertinent here: what is a groove? I have come to think that it is the set of virtual possibilities that you carry within your body while playing a song. A rhythm, a particular rhythm—3/4, 4/4, 6/8 etc.—is ran through like a sequence wherein your possibilities are determined by your place in the sequence; it is a construction you live! At beat one in a bar of four four timing, my possibilities are thus: one whole note, 8 eighth notes, 16 sixteenth notes, 12 triplets etc. When I am on the second beat, granting I didn’t choose a possibility on the first beat which I am sustaining in the second, my possibilities are altered: 6 eighth notes etc.

But, what is the best way to build a groove, build a virtual sequence which you live through the vector of time? This my greatest struggle—but by no means only struggle—with music: this creation of a groove and the sustenance thereof. I have tried multiple methods—the foot tap for base beats arm and arm movement to ensure the consistency of the smaller notes, literal dancing so as to carry the rhythm in my whole body (which becomes exhausting quickly), metronomes of various complexity to hold the groove externally etc., and all of these work for a time—works for a time to hold time, hehe—but, eventually, I fall into a distracting thought which shatters the spell of the groove, which sloves off my virtual projection towards the future. Keeping my mind single pointedly in the groove, without branching off into a reflection which steals the dimension of time from my music, this is my greatest struggle.

Is this best solved by making a sort of spiritual practice of music—a buddhist meditation towards no mind (and, in this case, all groove)? I have tried this, have tried to shut down my drifting reflection so as to keep time strictly for the groove, but this method does not seem to work for me over long stretches of time. The repression of reflective thought takes more mental energy than I can spend and, at the same time, play music. While perhaps it is a matter of building mental muscle overtime—in which case, the only thing to do is practice—I think I may be better served by seeking out another method of playing music. How do I make my reflection strengthen the groove rather than destroy it?

Perhaps, if I reflect on something which I associate with the sound, then I will be able to stay within it—this is the idea I have come up with today. I have often heard people describe what various classical pieces evoke in them—the images, the flights of fancy—and perhaps acquiring such anchors, visual and conceptual accompaniments, to various grooves (or songs, or keys) would be just the thing to keep my wandering mind immersed in it. This makes sense, to me, from a theoretical perspective—sound is only one dimension that sustains itself through time. All the other functions of the mind continue on, even when you aren’t focused on them—visual, conceptual etc.—so bringing them in on the groove, having them dream in tandem with that groove, seems intuitive. Transcendental meditation, the mantra of a whole being to the the rhythm of music, rather than the Zazen shutting out of all mental functions—this seems like it could be within my ability.

A groove—one must evoke it in oneself, create for it a body that it might live against the encroaching chaos of the virtual environment—the mind—it finds itself in.

Lips blue from freezing rain, an icy deluge which pools at the end of rivulets and erodes holes in my cheeks—another storm of passion survived, another labyrinth escaped—I, a deadman, now know the name of peace:asilentinfinity.png


      In whisperswinding.pngto a heat death, in the beauty of a bluegod—a god whose realm is The Tundra of  “Forgotten”— hear the profound silence of a noisy universe emptied, that universe I am, the sound of the “has been” which is silence and which is presence in absence, that implied viod—the rush of cessation.

Negativity: A short thought

There is a certain malcontent that springs from, not a lack of positivity — as is the popularly acclaimed source of all affective ails — but from a lack of meaningful negativity. When the negative impulse to destroy or change a state of affairs is constantly blocked, one begins to feel powerless and only has recourse to ‘positivity’, which, in the sense it is commonly used, means nothing other than a positive regard towards one’s enforced passivity. A tree, for this example imbued with agency, would still perish — no matter how ardent it’s will to grow, ie it’s positivity — if it let a vine smother its access to sunlight, if it had no recourse to negativity. (which in reality it doesn’t, but… a poor example.)