Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press #4

Today’s dispatch includes a contribution from new author Maung Pyae, whose attribution is P, below, collaborating with Marshall (M) on “Mysterious Pines.” Another guest author is a former student at Heuristic Halo, Marshall’s school in Mandalay, who goes by Eric (E) in collaboration with Marshall on the poem which begins ‘Cold shower bleak weather blizzard. . .’

            Language is like a conquest of information.

NeverAttemptShitYouNeverTried and DareDevilMotherfuckinDickhead watched a documentary named HowToSuckBallsLickPubicHairStubs&SellBullshitOnline and have a brainstorm section afterwards and come up with an innovative idea named “ButtStuckInFrontOfDeviceAndFartAerodynamicProducts.” They then asked FamousPlushYoutuber called BallJuiceSipSickPrick for feedback on their idea and the CelebratedBallsyYoutuber said: Don’t go out and get you ass dry or you’ll waste shit to sell.

M.

On Speaking with my Buddy Marshall after the Video-phone

A laugh can settle the

disturbances of bygone years

Shaking up joy from the belly,

my old friend;

Overhead the hum of war-crafts,

the gasoline scent of mown grass,

the stillness of centuries-long enforced

domination;

Though I still have my laugh with you

and my soul is settled,—

The hopefulness of being humans

who do not sacrifice truth,

even when the weight of corruption is

heaving its great mass,

            smooshing like a glorious wildflower

the People’s Head,

Smashing the people down,

robbing the soul of its humanity;—

No, for a moment we laugh,

but do not forget our duties to future generations;

Our soul-words like a banner,

our laughs like a weapon

which we shall wield in vigorous honor

to the end of Incarnations.

A.

JollyGiraffeBond, GenerousCatSally and FabulousChimpJenny talked about how to fish in a pond and MightyBruteAlligator suggested them to go deeper into the water.

PurchasedTwistedMedia shouts in the sea afloat when it sees SlyFoxPickBucksBags on a nearby island and asks for help. All of a sudden Kim’sTestedNuke just annihilates both including the island. 

M.

Mysterious Pines

Faint flight voice up high the night when insects delight: dark yet bright, plain sight— blithe

Night light bring the life into being, feeling the dull side of life

Lulled by nature, walked I onto the grass scattered with leaves and gazed up: misty, moonlit sky of foggy texture

Fulfill the mind with light ciggies, seating on the cozy iron, musing the peaceful gift underneath velvet sheet

Kites of streamed thoughts drifted with the humid breeze yet wondered the beast beneath the tree smokin’, see nothin’ but life’s miraculous blessed beings sounding obscure in the vicinity of stark dark illuminated by yellow bulbs

Track through the windows of eyes: haul the deep thread of sophisticated minds, found the descend of painful asphyxiated lines.

Brine contemplation sought outta timed compilation— fine revelation seeps into the ears of kind personification under the pines’ chilled decor. . . behind hill hectares. . bind ill scepter.  A fine spilled factor made of ancient lacquer. . . bittersweet nectar.

M & P

FakeNewsMedia and FuckedUpInternet talked to MindlessProleDumbShitsPublic about how the world should be and everybody went nuts.

PervertedGoatInBeachPants asks BeautifulSheepInSwimsuit while they’re relaxing at the beach, “How do you choose a sexy bikini?” and she reply, “Why don’t you Go Ogle it?”

M.

Garbging Trhgi

Search birth certificates online at

the mark with blue “f”

Sagged lives with brag rights pass

gas of sad pike swinging rich flat

plight on websites

Everyone’s on a heist for attention

Anxiety rises the web delighted

Beg the kite of hope for an

optimistic dive

Yet it hit the little high tree

destroying the home of bees

Hive lost

Yet the resilient insects still find

ways not halt :::::::: the narcissistic

show, not stop.

M.

Cold shower bleak weather blizzard

Discarded dreams still stream at heart

Fire of youth is all but ash

Yet from the cinder lies change

Fame clouded while young, life’s blurry

Flame youthfulness built families named

uncertainties

Youthfulness paved way for rushness

Dreams built upon emotions, heard only void

Sight not in void, dive lost in divide

Kites fought in flights yet slight thoughts in

might

            of a young child’s mind in delight

With every fights reward a scar

Each scars disclose signs aiming for the

stars

            so very close, yet so far away

Bay and the ocean touch yet there’s a

shoreline

Define, “far away,” asked the bay to blue

water from ashore

            & the water said, “Ask the ocean floor.”

M & E

Is it evil,

            Literature,

in the best

            sense of the word;

Aye, when it

            resists!

It’s not about immortality

or nothingness

but merely

the will

to carry through

what you can’t

give up on anyways.

Never trust anyone with a profit

motive, I always say!

Yeh the Romantic is simply one

who sees in the Satanic

rebellion against God

the affirmation of the

            original sanctity

            of Nature.

God is an illusion

of the reality of Power. 

See the creation of God

            like Ideology

is the accumulation of Power

behind a veil

            of secrecy.

The modern World

is shaped by the Philosopher’s

            Will; civilization

or the State is the Power

            of ideology.

This is the World of the Philosophers

conceived during the Renaissance

like in ancient Egypt,

a creation that echoes

like the Godhead of the future

from our distant

            past,—for

            Time is a place.

(Suns)

Hierarchies are

the establishment

of systems through time

that preserve a transformation

            of space.

Ancient history

as the far distant future

            of another race.

Though to separate the human

from inhuman is to make

a hierarchy of life.

Creating shadows to fear

out of a flame

that binds us all the same.

            29 March 2021.

A.


Contribute to Heuristic Halo Press, send ideas, expressions of all kinds, poems or prose, to ascottbuch@yahoo.com; the project of Investigative Poetry is that of all citizens of the World.


Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press #3

Universe become a black box like the individual human experience, our

Souls delimited into a control system

. Rather than each individual being a part of the whole universe, we are subjects of a control system, the environment is excluded from the cybernetic mind; becoming a resource to be exploited like human consciousness becomes an energetic mine.

M.

Texts flatten youth,
like possessions use
the classes their rulers make up.

            A.

MOOnshine

            Mooned by full moon, dark strikes not the bright light
                        Up high in stark quietness obliged
Not by the divinity of any holy ghosts spirited in wind, swiped
            Pipe smoked the devil stashed tobacco, debacle beneath hide
                        Fleas bite the imaginative corner of totalitarian dream, might
Does not make right of fleas bite into an alligator strike
            For the people, not blind
            By the people, odds dined
            Of the people? . . . . neigh
Find cosmic rhymes in dictatorship: a butt-kiss sick sign {-}

MarsDust
25 June 2021; 1:12pm

M.

The golden apple
is the struggle for immortality,
power and knowledge.
It is hierarchical permanence 
or more precisely its
           striving forth 
which drives all conflict.

            A.

iLL-tRANSCENDENTAL 

Beauty, easy to say yet gorgeousness boundless on earth neither heard nor seen by the herd. . .
Birds flitter wings of anxiety amidst the dark clouds of perplexity, rushing home to their families for the lightening brings with it the thunderous roar moments before the downpour, no mercy at all. .
Bald mountains slowly take shapes, like monsoon green cakes, here and there we see emerald flakes, rocks of dark crimson lay awake down from the peak creek, deep not the crystal water clear albeit the top it’s near. .
Flocks of flight dotted the sky: draw lines, take shapes, rainbow curved up the eastern horizon coloring the ranges, river to the west reflects sliver though sometimes the silver-lined clouds cover the setting sun. .
Bountiful gifts of nature nurtured not by citifying but by dumbing all of us to natural state of minds blinding a bit at times.

MarsDust
12 June 2021

M.

General Strike as a State 
           of Mind, for
The Market is all your Life
           has in store.
The World is War, all the 
           Time, war. 

            A.

We want you to contribute to the transformation of INVESTIGATIVE POETRY into a movement that transcends this website and all websites, for this is our world. Shall we imagine it better? Send your poetry, articles, essays, cartoons, photography, illustrations, jokes, to: ascottbuch@yahoo.com.

Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press #2

One can no longer simply be in the world without complying with the System that governs how to be in it.

Religion is the conservatism of spirituality, meaning that it is directly connected to power politics and defending the status quo.

Tough Raw Confectionery in Sky Lane

Flow of clouds amongst the crescent cake float in sky lane

                                    wrote the wolf to wildflower “Jane”

                        Rain not today yet cloud & wind play drought game

            Pain in Jane, unable to enjoy wolf’s cake

For the other beauties in flowers the tamed take

            the idea that Jane’s malignant breeding hate

baked bread and cake in underhanded deceptive drape

Nonetheless, what matters to Jane’s not other flower’s idea

            but some simplest question from wolf as in: Why, dear?

That moment, moon, cloud & the dark sky on a windy day disappear

                        into the next dawn of hope to see fear more clear

                                                                        feel dear more near

                                                                        heal tears for years

Tyrannizers, no matter who or what,                     here Jane & Wolf clear

Look back at thousands of years of histories & humanities         the smear

            always get backstabbed                   of all your blood, sweat & tears,

                                    my dear                                                          all my dear

                                                            were closer with each step and the

                                                                                                                        End

                                                                                                                          is

                                                                                                                        Near

                                                                                                Mars Dust

                                                                                                19 June 2021

                                                                                                     22:47

M.

Soon It Will Be Midsummer

I let that bramble star flower go,

O lily of the Lethe

I wanted to trade you for an apple,

            that peach-tree blossom;

With the sun pouring over the hill,

            egg-molten.

Pan the crow,

peter-bird in the Rodeo.

In a trash bag of leaves.

The mush of pomegranate.

As the severed head was lured back

            into the lair of the incubus,

The astral flight became like

            a circumcision of my soul.

And I began to wonder, do those

            who love God, love people less?

Do those who love God

            love less?

            20 June 2021

A.

Beaten and shocked by the professionals

A young brain morphed

Into names of unimaginable thoughts

Lost not in solution of whatnot

Professionals got caught

While performed under the poorly taught

Wrought not the knife for a knight

Like a street vendor would make kites

Fight not the obliged souls

For warm hearts in ‘em won’t turn cold

Fold not to injustice like a dream

For your dreams gotta come clean

Flights taken to heights of heights

Yet down to earth here I stand upright

M.

The crystal lucidity of the sky

framed at geometric angles in time,

By the shape of trees spangled with yellow-green

that differs now and than from what it means.

The TV cackles like with a signal,

Wondering about the ring of Saturn;

On a day that recurs with things we’ve learned,

An anomaly like a silver ball?

A.


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Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press #1

Introducing Dispatches from Heuristic Halo Press, founded in 2018 by Kyaw Zin Myint (“Marshall”) and A. Scott Buch (“Alex”).

Today we are featuring two poems by Marshall and one by Alex. Please feel free to share this Dispatch, or even to contribute your art, your poetry, your thoughts and words, in the future. Send them to ascottbuch@yahoo.com.

M.

Dog-Hare of the Firewater

I see Maung Maung again in Thailand

Not Maung Maung himself but the spirit of Dionysus

A ceremonial den like a cow skull,

The holy mischievous law-breaking that is

As much of Karma, especially in the Abyss

That we must in tantra have

Subtle wind through our bodies

And the blood of a god intoxicates

Us, who see in the fabric of a day

A great pattern of ecstasy like silk lingerie

Who wore out our bodies like clothes

Until there was only mad spirit left,

And there you glared at me—you rascal!—

Until I became old dust,

The distillation of existence

Pounded out of the Milky Way!

A.

Petals of roses red whizzed by a gust

            Flat on dried earth spiraled touching gently on the spikes

                                    of branches, no thrust

                                                kissing the primitive floor of nature

                                    Fertile soil mothering thorny stalks beauty on top

                        Crossing everyone’s sight: delight

            Obliged not regardless of whoever the gardener be

Fantasy of a magic garden still in every bees’ instinct, beautifully

                                    ‘fore all the delicate parts rest beneath earth.

                        Water flowing down from the north to the hearts

            Of the plains nourishing, growing and multiplying more plants

Blooming not only exotic flowers but bearing heavenly fruits

            Regardless, as bees don’t fly around instantly causing flowers to bloom

                        Who are we to yell at seeds to grow trees

                                    Let alone what those tree might produce

                                                Till, individually, we improve. . .

M.


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Who will stand up for Myanmar

Largest book in the world is contained here, at Kuthodaw Pagoda (ကုသိုလ်တောဘုရား) in Mandalay, Myanmar.

Dedicated to my
friend Marshall,
my friend Dennis,
my friend Leo,
my friend Stanley,
my friend Maung
Maung;
all the friends
of Myanmar,
especially every
single student
that I ever
taught.

Folks of the Ayeyarwady River (ဧရာဝတီမြစ), near Mandalay, not far from Sagaing.

Who will stand up for Myanmar

when life itself has been gunned down?

Who will stand up for Myanmar when

Being is held in such low-standing,

who will stand up for Myanmar, who

            believes Western democracy is real,

            who believes the West is real.

Who will stand up for Myanmar

            who would stand up herself

            if not for the Golden Triangle,

“[F]or the poppy rules the world”[1]

as the whole world is colonized.

Who has stood up for the memory

            of the 8888 Uprising,

Who has stood up for the Saffron monks,

Who has stood up for the murdered

            and raped Rohingya,

Who has stood up for the million

            who’ve been displaced.

Believes that sanctions will,

            or ever have done anything

                        about this

And who enable the proliferation of

            military dictatorship the world over?

Who will

            stand up for the tortured

                        denizens of Insein Prison,

Who will read the

            interminable discourse already produced

                        on this subject,

And who will read this poem.

Who will protest nonviolently

            to the end global capitalism,

            with the indomitable spirit

                        of a Theravada monk,

And who will unite across

            every religious division

                        arm in arm, who

Will give up the religion of

            global capitalism.

Who will

            wake up to stand up

Dreaming in their violent mythologies

            to know who wrote

                        Burmese Days,

            let alone there’s a country

                        called Myanmar?

Who will stand up for what

            they regard

So cheaply to be bought

Turning the entirety of their backyard

            into a sweatshop.

Who will stand up for the workers

            of Myanmar

Who will stand up for a nation

            not their own

Who will give up the violent dominion

            of all nation-statehood.

Who will stand up

            for Marshall

beat repeatedly in the head,

threatened with firing squad

For merely spitting on a police car.

Who will stand up for Myanmar.

Who will stand up for the migrants

            of Myanmar,

            of the World

forced into modern slavery,

And who will stand up for this fact

that slavery is worse than it ever has been,

            throughout the entirety

                        of your so called progressing of Civilization,

            democratic values!

Who? How?

            When.

Cow outside a temple near Bagan (ပုဂ).




[1] (Jim Morrison, Paris Journal)

The evanescence of property.

Intellectual property establishes a dominion over time in the way property does space. This is because concepts unfold in time in the sense that language is syntactical.

            Modern science corporatizes intellectual property. Establishing an interdependent relation between power and knowledge, this is analogous to the interdependence between political power and wealth.

            Concepts are a reflection of illumination, a consequence of the conditions for existence made up of electromagnetic gravitation in a void; the emergent property of consciousness in a system; or the complex order arising out of chaos, making up a whole composed of parts. This is precisely intelligence, the ordering, the structuring of a vast infinitude of data.

            Ownership of intelligence implies an individualizing or atomization of intelligence which is specifically human insofar as the human being creates hierarchies out of its understanding.

            The problem with this is existence or the world as an environment, gets excluded from the system of understanding that informs our understanding of the world. In other words in order to create a system out of something one must isolate a part from a whole, effectively complexifying that part into its own whole. For instance, in the structure of language that is a system of communication, this system effectively becomes a parallel or mirror reflection of the world it enframes by signifying. Signification itself is a mere reflection of a state of affairs; and explicitly not that state of affairs in-itself.

            And yet, in being a snapshot of a state of affairs, it does manage to be an illumination of conceptual knowledge, knowledge being not intrinsically separated from the power that it mirrors, its absolute existence as energy; existing under the relative conditions that make it perceivable as matter, distinctly reflected through an apparatus which has evolved over time to be sensitive to light in specific ways that create perceptions.

            Trying to “own” something as evanescent as this is the very definition of illusion. For to “own” it implies that it could be grasped once and for all, and preserved in a specific state. Which is not only impossible—for it is impossible to grasp one’s own reflection—but also betrays a deep delusion to think that the reflection has existence in-itself, in the same way that it is a delusion to think that language is precisely reality, or that these two things are necessarily separated by an absolute border.

            That border is purely conceptual. And this is why knowledge cannot be “owned,” for it betrays the fact that this flows equally through everybody.

Reflection of the Moon

The universe is like
a piece of paper,
A bounded infinity
with determinable shapes.

The world is like a constellation,
made out of fixed stars
          that the mind
Connects distinctly at places.

And if a concept is a reflection
then what’s reflected is light
Like sun energy
            shining on the moon;
As matter condenses
            because there is shadow
I can understand, you.



On sex-positivity & reaction

Conservative ideology must be sex-negative and acclimate the perspective to a pessimism for life. For several reasons, for instance the class hierarchies that are grounded in injustice are to be seen as natural, and hence the miserable world they create must also be seen as natural.

            The things in life that are inherently positive, like sex, must be governed through their enframing as negative, for sex-positivity would inherently create a more balanced world insofar as the human reproductive function can be linked to love and not violence, freedom and not slavery, equality and not compulsion, and so on. This sex-positivity would threaten the hierarchical order of things, and hence sex and therefore life itself, the consequence of sex, must be pathologized; constructed through sex-negativity if the order of the world itself, as Western Civilization as such, its supremacy, is to be preserved.

            Sex-negativity as status quo then, also the conservative position, with the upper hand but also the mandate to preserve, can attack progressive forces which would seek to liberate sexuality as degenerate. Without addressing the systemic nature of sex-negativity, conservative forces can criticize left-wing forces for being idealistic, not being able to see the presupposed naturalness of sex-negativity.

            By negating sex, construing it as negative, the bad consequences which come from this, can be framed as natural, when putting the abstract concept of civilization before the anthropological reality of human beings.

            The conservative ideology will put the abstract concept of civilization before the anthropological benefits of sex-economic progress in order to preserve the hierarchical structure of class relations.

            This is why the conservative ideology will sacrifice individual happiness, by acclimating the perspective to pessimism regarding life, because the imperative to conserve general power privilege through class relations overrules particular instances of truth-knowledge or individual self-control, happiness or contentment, for the sake of this systemic goal.

            The contentment of sex-positivity in the broad anthropological sense as sex-economic, threatens the structural violence that grounds civilization through the power of hierarchy and class relations.

            Another way of putting it; by linking the idea of sex-negativity to civilization itself, the sex-negative position becomes the correct, or moral position.

            By linking civilization to hierarchy, it becomes moral. Injustice and inequality by degrees are also moral.

            Sex-positivity becomes immoral, and linked to the idea of degeneracy, or “anarchy,” the dissolution of civilization.

Fragments of a concept of cyberspacetime

If postmodernism is in a way characterized by an eclectic return to the past, then in what comes after postmodernism, the singularity of information which characterizes a control society, has flattened the former distinctions between spacetimes altogether. This is perhaps the capitalist realism effect of cyberspacetime.

            Rule by cyberspace time is algorithmic. It facilitates the gig economy, a way of personality construction and hence memory-making that is image-cinematic, based around profile building; and a generalized understanding of everything that encompasses the self and the world, which looks similar to a kind of generalized mental disorder.

            Despite its real material, technological character, cyberspacetime is primarily a mental phenomenon.

            Whole patterns, phases, fads, memetic stages play out in cyberspacetime, in ways that are cyclical with similarities to actual spacetime, but ultimately in a separate realm though this area is, as I speculate, still largely in the mind.

            In theory cyberspacetime could fuse with the brain in the way that language capacity became a biological inheritance of human beings. This concept seems to show the fluidity between the technological and biological. One begins to wonder if beings evolved a capacity for language, becoming human beings, through generational contact with the world. Cyberspacetime wouldn’t so much as be fused with the human brain, as be a catalyst or stimulus for the evolution of new neurological capacities.

            In conclusion, we may be approaching an analogy between something like the psychedelic experience and representational thinking. That is, a drug can change brain chemistry, in the same way a mere experience can change brain chemistry. And prolonged experience with a certain kind of chemical reaction could create transformations of a so called alchemical nature.

            If duration is the embodiment of spacetime, then cyberspacetime is like a cell of duration. In this way cinema is both its precursor and most apt symbol of representation.

            The Influencer is cyberspacetime embodied.

            One quality of cyberspacetime is that it is at once eternally fleeting and oppressively permanent.

            A reified Now that swells and keeps swelling infinitely to monstrous proportions of seeming omniscience, it occludes the impermanence of mutability in the natural flow of things.

            The algorithmic influence of cyberspacetime is ultimately psychological, that is to say the artificial intelligence of the algorithm learns enough about the individual user to make them feel like they are being influenced. This feeling of influence is real though real insofar as it is psychological. In this way the effect of influence is similar if not analogous to the effect of ideology; of propaganda more broadly which has always taken its manipulative techniques from psychology.

The Slough

Blood flows in one direction,

            towards the heart.

Freedom, if the concept exists, never

Shall leave behind a single soul ever

Trapped inside wage

            labor to do their part.

Not money but freedom is what I need.

Don’t give me none of that

            wage slave’s currency.

It’s a great irony of civilization

that pure reason

            is in fact

a Gateway drug of insanity.

the God of the West,

            realism of capitalists—

Our spirit is formed

like water from hydrogen,

it counters that from

            which it was formed,

                        the flame

And therein lies the Great

Mystery of palingenesia,

            of the interconnectedness

                        of the heavy

                                    & light,

the hot & the cold.

Emptiness is pure potential

at bottom chaos

the interconnectedness of all things,

butterfly effect

ultimately the unknown:

what Rimbaud sought

through his long dérèglement de tous

            les sens

to know je est un autre.

“Truths are illusions

which we have forgotten

            are illusions,”

(Nietzsche). This is

the matter of simulacrum,

            for the utility

            of an illusion

                        is in its

            being seen through.

Stuck to facts,

all truth is

always the truth of power

in this rigged dimension

where might makes right;

Our human rights

are always the product of surrendering

personal sovereignty;

Our freedom of speech

is always the right of the State

to take that away;

Human freedom

under State government

is only that which can

            by brutally denied

                        to you

if you’re standing

            in its way.

            thinking and writing,

Creating an edifice—

the mind is a calculation

            machine,

striving to bring concepts

            & things

            into balance.

& Civilization is already

            a simulacrum,

especially when imposing

            a center on the boundless;

Hierarchizing creates

            classes of Master

            & Slave,

Language and mythologies

            are a semiotic code

            that justifies the Order,

and hence Ideology

            & material subjection

            reign.

The singularity of information

            is the boot

            of the control society,

And sold as liberating,

            a freedom

            that is slavery,

which is its neoliberal character.

Freedom as a War

            of all against all,

Law that codifies in Justice

            that the mighty will rule,

This is the neoliberal regime

            & tyranny of the market

—making us, in the mythologies

            of pseudoscience, believe

Competition & violence are

            intrinsic to the human species.

Art sought pretentiously

            to immortalize

By resisting death,

We’ve petrified life

And the contrivances multiplied.

The Lords even in death

continued to rule with their legacy

like mummified pharaohs,

The canon was haunted

            by the auguring

            of an Ozymandias,

And we all fell into a cult

            of personality from Shakespeare

On, as if under the spell

            of one such

            fragile Ego.

Every poem kills,

like in an exchange

            of value

alienated persons

can’t simply be

but in capitalist agony.

Write, rights

some have more,

much more time

deserving of value

to make their thoughts

on being an artist rhyme.

Being a subject

Every conception

is a form of syzygy.

Deny the poetry

            in philosophy,

the ideology

            in reality,

the magic

            in thinking.

The Lords are artificial gods

whose powers are godlike.

They may not even exist

apart from the human mind,

Whose power is nowhere

when it is everywhere,

nowhere in the people

when in institutions;

Nowhere in communities

when in the State,

nowhere in our bones & sinews

when in our bellies as processed meat,

in our brains as pharmaceuticals,

Surrounding us as in a spider’s web

            of digitized capital.

Power is a frame,

a picture frame,

The capstone of representational

            thinking,

A Master code.

The structure of language

            itself,

Structures of the unconscious

Like dinosaur bones,

            an unending history of brutality,

Arranging in spacetime

the black blood of Empire.

Flowing always to the top

            of the cybernetic head

                        of Talos,

As its structural hand

shatters the skull of the

            indigenous

with a billy club—

Brutalize your Ego,

Kill It dead,

            the Fascists

            inside your head.

            Give us

competition without resentment,

cooperation without hierarchy.

law absent of violence,

rule drained of domination.

            We must

revolt against the given

with “[a]n impossiblist élan”![1]

For to be a poet,

            a good poet,

an actionable one,

             is to be

a magician.

            Desire is the means of production. No emancipatory structure can exist that doesn’t first collectively free desire.

            (ii) It is consumption that primarily defines a late stage of Capitalism. Production and consumption are two sides of the same coin, like Master/Slave morality.

            (iii) Desire must be overcome not through denial, but rather through disinterested affirmation. Denial is what fuels compulsory consumption. Production becomes pathological under Capitalism.

            Be disinterested

                        in how

                        the State

            defines your Self.

            Be disinterested

                        in forms of power

                        that are slavery

which is the privileged

                        domain of currency. 

            Be disinterested, in the sense of free from commodity fetishism; disinterested in the sense of free from fetishism in general. Fetishism is a pathology of object-subjects.

            Need is fundamental. Making need equivalent with money is a historical contingency.

            (b) Desire is a complex need, an emergent one. Under Capitalist Realism, fundamental needs and superfluous desires become conflated.

            (c) The reproduction of the system requires poverty; to perpetuate this injustice, the petty bourgeois who could align with the proletariat, are kept in bad faith illusions that equate a lack of superfluous desires with a lack of freedom and even the threat of impoverishment. In practice it becomes a check on challenges to capitalist realism, by limiting one’s imagination to see life without superfluity as meaningful or gratifying.

            -白森


[1] Randolph Bourne, Twilight of Idols

Oedipus and the State

The Hegelian Left, or Young Zizekians are a Cybernetic Left, a dominant trend in the online left, and why?

            Why counterpose Zizek to Chomsky, acting as if there were something in Chomsky that was missing or wrong, in need of filing in with Zizek. The Hegelian Left seems to react against the trend in thinking in Deleuze and Foucault. Is there anything bugged about this Hegelian left? Is there something in the identitas that makes it primed for Schismogenesis?

            Does the Mark Fisher splinter of Zero Books mirror the outgrowth of an alt-right vis-à-vis Nick Land? Is War with China, or the equilibrium imposed by a Neo-Cold War, pandemic new normal, the end result?

            We must run Sufi-dances of resistance around that Cybernetic Control system, using our Reichian theory and vision of Burrough’s Lemuria, to fight the Time War!

            This is the shape of the conflict we are looking at in this age of influencers.

            (ii) Difference-in-itself is an Infinity of potential Ideology. The differences which make a difference in Gregory Bateson’s formulation of the Bit, or unit of information, is the same as the Idea. Idea simply isn’t separate from the world, but informs it in key ways, especially in the form of control.

            Now has Jim Morrison not anticipated this control society, the Police of Qualities with his concept of The Lords, dramatized symbolically in the poem called “The Movie”?

            The Police of Qualities is the Naming, “the imposition of a categorical hierarchy,” (白森), and Lacanianism, which is key to the Cybernetic Left, would seem to have given the Occident a theoretical foundation for the Cyberneticization of the Self; that at once reifies the Occidental notion of the self in its perpetual absence. This rhetorical move is what I would identify as the bugging.

            When Bateson says, “quiescence and activity have equal informational relevance,” in The Cybernetics of “Self” : A Theory of Alcoholism, what he’s talking about correlates precisely with the concept of 無為. And what this is, is no less than a basis for the method of schismogenetifying.

            What is the connection between Lacanianism and Bateson’s Cybernetics of Self? Both cement an identity through difference, or reify a non-presence through absence, or create a Self that is a non-self by theorizing a stability based on lack. This lack is the desire which is sublimated.

            Theory for Theory’s sake is defined by inaction. The part that would act is sublimated into theorizing. This is where the politics of Anti-Oedipus become essential for us. For as Reich showed us and as James DeMeo demonstrates in Saharasia: The 4000 BCE Origins of Child Abuse, Sex-Repression, Warfare and Social Violence in the Deserts of the Old World, there is nothing universal about the Oedipal conflict. Alternative social formations can exist which are not Oedipal or coercive, involving sex-repression, or delusional Cybernetic Self-formulations that reproduce Capitalist social formations; insofar as they require a State, putting the myth of Civilization above the collective desires of humanity to live free and in equality.

iii

Ask me why any tree in nature should

Command your respect more than

            a political state.

Why be moved to appreciate

Order growing out of chaos

As opposed to the violence of State law?

Is anything more naturally manifested

            than democracy

From perpetual occupation by

            standing armies?

War vanishes along with

            the mandate for peace.

Arboreal parliament never divvied

            one clod of soil

Never zoned roots based on

            vested interests

Or compelled a single leaf to change.

Like to claim with a straight face

States serve the people as

            provider, as protector

As shelter from the storm?

            You’re nuts.

Servants need masters as

            masters their servants alike.

So as the earth is to water,

The body is to spirit,

            & each guides it and shapes

It. So too is the individual

            to the community,

A heautonomous part

            of an absolute whole

That functions as a symbol.

            “I” works in this way.