like the slobber of an idiot destiny

communication – though it never was whole – has broken down (has been perceived to have broken down or at least has moved into language in this way of having broken) as the commons has not broken down (by definition it cannot break down) but moved to its rightful place : that of mysticism

communication never was whole and cannot be. it lurches in ejaculations and dribbles, pools on the toes of the postcoitaled too distracted by their mutual affirmations and despairs to notice. communication is the mediocrity of the tyrannical, now everything in the fridge put into the pot (this the cleverness of capitalism) and forcefed into our maws which have become so desperate for anything to be stuffed into them we’re grateful for the gross and tepid stuffings and call them good

we perceive communication to have broken down due to a misnaming and misplacing, a misnaming due to a misplacing : for a small portion of the commons claimed the commons, not only one species among an almost countless myriad, but

a miniscule portion of that one species – those who typically through a combination of randomness and force were able to suppress the vast bulk of the commons so that only their language had effective credence

the true commons is the horror our conglomerations of institutions and processes are designed to hide, for we are a fearful and cowardly species, aware enough of our comprehensive insignificance to turn immediately from the significance of this awareness

the true commons is mysticism – the voices of all : not all humans, but all things. and what is the communication of this commons? is it human language (even if we define language broadly to include gesture and the human unsaid replete in the spoken)? but human language, even in its broadest senses, weighs nothing next to the languages of the universe, which we do not speak let alone hear. and if the human were to exercise what might be its grandest capacity and learn, however possible, to crawl into the womb of listening … what then?

for what is corona other than yet another voice in the myriad vastnesses that speaks from the commons its language that we bury with our fearful deluge and slobber?

the artists and intellectuals among the first to go in any monist regime. and humanity in its incapacity to process plurality (hence the great present ejaculation of diversity, to launder the species’ shuffling of the deck and calling the shuffling a new game), despite occasional, small, and often difficult-to-find bubbles of safety, falls into monism as easily as it falls asleep – routinely, gratefully, with a profound sense of having deserved this grand supremacy and respite. whether the methods of eradicating the aliens, monsters, margins – those responsible for nurturing consciousness – will remain the same as the regimes of the past (prompt removal and extermination) is uncertain. although already we see signs that the effective processes will be accomplished more technocratically, indirectly, nicely, under the rubrics of democracy and goodness and science, and sometimes, even frequently, with smiles and praise before the enterprise is, yet again, forgotten

[we don’t mention the poor (although some artists and intellectuals are also among them) as the poor aren’t the first to go but are always going]

death v

when i died first i don’t remember …

once one detects monism and begins dismantling it one experiences it everywhere (this splintered monism, this new secular religion:  the yahweh-christ in disguise – multipally:  as cyborg, victim, scholar, social media junkie, justice ngo guru, feminist, techno, eco-spiritualist, healer …), and cannot stop dismantling.  this process is death.  and then a one does not appear and this is not the one but one.

the root of the human is the inhuman and the process of entering this root to become human is what we call death.

to encounter the human by matching nature with nature – this is a death of which we speak.

just as there is no closure in love (regardless of its state and direction), so there is no closure in death.

death is only a simulation of emptiness.

death is the gap between desire and no-desire, these infinite gradations in which we live.

one of death is given to and rather than or, an and that includes many or’s, even as one authentically given to yes is one given to a yes of infinite no’s.

soft death, like art or bread, you do not forgive our clumsy love, our confused aloofness, our fated cruelty, you do not forgive.  you do not forget, for memory is hard and apportioned to life.

my life is established as a chair from which to watch my death unfold.  i do not waste it on side ventures, on frivolous things, on the pursuit of accumulations or to be watched.  i watch.

death, my true name which cannot be named

for, like death, it hides, in my brain

what i call consciousness, game

of chance and light – inane

but pointed, the same

as love’s blood’s stain?

all the same

the pain

…

the historic objects of mysticism – those perceptions that facilitated justification of death:  whatever linguistic-spiritual concatenation of god, holiness or purification, charity might have been involved – having now, along with objects (through their spectacular proliferation) died, place mysticism with no possibilities of human or self improvement, no sainthood of anything recognizable, no allegiances or alliances, no institutional affiliations however strained.  it arrives, empty, at time’s dirty threshold, still housed in horny flesh, still yearning, still hardly of this world, its not-knowing and suffering odd antidotes or absurdities to the edifices of knowledge and wellness, questioning, empty, objectless and aimless, subjectless, godless, dirty, looking, still looking, but with perception shattered, bereft even of bereftness, lacking any justification, perhaps in all this absence with opportunities to become more itself.

methods of exile and death in the technological age for those disinclined to participate in the dominant and present forms of life (liberally pervasive now across all sectors, from business to art to politics to humanitarianism to ecology to spirituality and psychology to education to law and justice to science and technology) include not only withdrawal from progress, monism, societal devouring, but also humanism and anthropocentrism.   the primary tenets of today’s religion, craftily having rebranded itself secular, are as monolithically and inquisitorially voracious, ruthless, intolerant, dogmatic, and enforced as the primary tenets of past religions, and so one who is non-conformist will likely experience death, but according to the forms of this religion, which finds blood distasteful and death impossible and martyrdom repugnant, and so exile and death and martyrdom are simulated, offset, emigrated from physicality to emotionality, from visibility to virtuality, and the one so disinclined (who refuses to climb) likewise uses simulated means to withdraw, to die.

geometrically, simulations of death can be negotiated as moving forward by turning back, mathematically as adding by subtracting, communicationally as speaking by using no words, politically as acting by not-acting, emotionally as loving by not-loving, existentially as living by dying.