An Important Contribution To The Ablation Of Territories, Vol.I

le serpent qui mord sa propre queue, or my first proper delirium so to speak

Sisyphe ? Ouroboros = = + ; ca commence, ca finit et ca boucle, rétroaction positive ou négative c’est un sujet de débat !

l’obsession prophylactique de l’ordre ; maniaquerie si on peut dire, caractère si présent chez moi (et n’est ce pas le cas parmi beaucoup) un attentat en vain pour établir ca soit un minimum d’ordre dans l’existence désordonnée ; simple acte que de ranger les pièces de monnaies d’une façon égale et trinitaire.

tout est restriction et inhibition dès nos jours, refoulement si on compte sur Freud comme interprète ; et plus encore est le retour du refoulé dans l’intégralité de l’activité humaine. Un antagonisme dynamique perpétuel de inhibition/retour qui s’accroit plus encore et qui prend tout avec lui, y compris le sacré.

c’est l’organe qui limite, par son déplacement des fluxes d’énergie en faveur d’une fonction despotique ; quand on dit orange *(organe, on laisse volontairement le lapsus cas ou on décide de le reprendre en étude.)* ce n’est pas seulement le sens médical qu’on met en scène ; notre vécu est une amalgamation d’une pléthore d’organes (organe language, organe signe, organe action, organe psychique) et chaque organe nous limite à ses aspirations et ses fins, organe politique aussi, organe social, organe de cul, peu-importe.

ce qu’on propose c’est de sauter ce fardeau de merde et de l’annihilier pour en concevoir d’autres voies et d’autres organes ; c’est pas le faite qu’il y a un organe qui est problème, mais c’est quand l’organe se place comme perpétuel, despotique signe et se banalise ; se dégrade en forme vide et impose si il est assez intelligent une double-impasse.

en finir avec le judgement de Dieu, non ; c’est “en finir avec le judgement de l’organe creux”, car Dieu s’est malheureusement vu se transformer en organe codifié et étatique ; perte de touche avec la métaphysique et le spirituel, on ne voit plus Dieu que comme organe qui s’est fut déchirée par un chien d’église, de mosque, d’association d’affaires religieuses et de notre généalogie qui laisse se mêler religion et culture et le tout du tout.

la machine œdipienne croit pouvoir me faire abstraction et me réduire à sa double impasse, ?.? mais quelle sottise ! ; non ce n’est pas que je désire maman que j’ai des maux de tête (s, à savoir la tête délirante (synthèse), la tête logocentrique (antithèse), la tête sentimentale et affective (thèse)) et une faiblesse cathartique. c’est l’experience de la limite ; ou il n ya guère de distinction entre jouissance et souffrance ; tout se mêle dans une experience qui incite à se rendre fou, se laissez être fou !

a flux produced on the 13th floor appartement of my uncle located within the glorious city of Algiers

highways, the zenith of human-made infrastructure, carrier of a thousand consciousness and a perfect embodiment of our dromos centered, speed-intensive zeitgeist. Perhaps an inspiration for the accelerationists, we can ask them ourselves, would we get an answer ? fuck if I know, today’s thoughts took a rather interesting itinerary, as your two (or one) proper eyes get to witness the constant flow of automobiles, going in and out of sight, in and out of towns, in and out of I-XXs, you get th—

why do you have hate for your fellow brethren, my thing asked ?? why do you carry so much disdain for the other, why is it that you deem yourself worthy of God’s grace and salvation whilst the others are not, ?? why are you asking me this, just say what's on your mind goddamnit, just speak it out lay it out to me on a fellow page, what’s a fellow page anyways, am i writing random streams of consciousness or is this leading to something big ?, perhaps an autonomous entity speaking through me, not God for sure but something instilled by God on me, now here’s the thing really i dont have much time or do I ? well i fucking damn do so offer yourself to me God and enlighten me on what might just be the fucking thing on my head right now, it is not a woman for sure, going by the Jungian terminology, one which I am fond of, it sure is my shadow trying to speak, yes dear i am listening, i called you dear because i might be queer and have a thing or two for shadows, my panic has cleared, or was it ecstasy, i haven’t felt this way in a while really, right after a prayer, the ecstatic coming from God’s worship or the aletheia of his.

now see, if I go back to write this “sort of” essay about how cars are X and highways are the Y on which the X rests a top alongside the human collective consciousness or something alongside these lines I would be wasting your time atop with things that you have probably heard before, see that is the thing when it comes to thinking of time only in terms of “mere value”, as in a commodity to be exploited in a meticulously ordered fashion, we grew up so fond of this attitude all thanks to the merging and blending of economy with the rest of the anthropic condition, what do you get by mixing cold and hot ?, steam, and that’s exactly why the world is fuming, steam on top of piles of steam, and what does steam create, oh dear ! well, it does create pressure (at least that’s what my physics headcanon says, I haven’t studied the field ever since highschool and I don’t have the slightest interest in it neither, and I will not make out of this a scientific case of sorts really so no needs for fact-checking, do your own research or whatever), the point and case is, pressure, and dear mama earth is having a baby now, she is letting out steam, and the baby is already making his first screams, the mother is already in pain and is crying for her damned life to the dear God with a capital G.

but then, sooner or later really, the baby is coming out, whether the baby will come out alive or not is a non-certainty, see humans always had a hardon for eschatology, but they never got to foretell the future, for obvious reasons and limitations, that is not our point really, our point is to tell everyone how it is, case the ten thousand other philosophers, thinkers and homeless-bar-chronic-attenders didn’t reach an audience, which they did, nonetheless we still need to harbor and spread the doom and gloom within us, butter and toast really, that’s what the spirit of time is unto, we can but accelerate.

the baby is coming out that’s for sure, what about the poor little mother, apparently she is in great deep pain see, blood loss all over, pressure and oxytocin not doing a damn thing, see mother is crying, tears, stomaching what the damned child did inside her frail little body, her survival is questionnable at best. Our next kin is the Child, and we are within the uterus of mother, we are the blood cells flowing out of her, some of us are white cells, fighting and making the best out of their Will with a capital W, some are plasmas, in a desperate attempt to heal mama Earth, not working this time buddy, clot is not going to do much to a deep, smelly wound.

See you know who’s the lucky fucker of them all, not the blood cells within the uterus, but those that are in fucktown nowhere’s version of the anatomical model of mom earth, say the hands, those that lie within the vessels of the fingers, they didn’t build their own bastion to protect themselves from mama’s insane bleeding, it was given to them, it was a given, see, I belong to the given, I have been given, a happy household, friends and a on-a-constant-development social life, experiences with romantic partners, sure they did fail but not on a miserable note and I came out of these so-called hardships with lessons, lessons by which I abide and strive to perfect, it is a given that my parents did not fucking fight and divorce, it is a given that I wasn’t bullied to the point of major psychic damage, it is a given indeed that I didn’t kill or violate any of my exes cause of bitterness and a weak psyche.

thinking about it, meditation has been radically altered, call it a byproduct of the times or a shift in the cognitive motors of the human, “faute d’évolution” if we were to ask a french naturalist, meditation is no longer getting lost in the Zen and becoming a monk within the mountains of Zhangzhou or whatever, it became the act of staring at your appartement window for two hours, getting a hold of the ebb and flow of cars and people, it can also take the form of city walks and ventures into, say, previously unexplored neighborhoods and grasping the overall “psychic vibe” of the residents and whatnot, we have a name for that really, psychogeography. or, and get this, it can be a venture into the unindexed dumpster fire of the internet, called in boogeyman speak “the deep web”, as of now, Tor is loading up, taking a considerable amount of time given most likely the heavy traffic on the nodes and might aswell add in the already miserable bandwidth of my local ADSL modem—