February 1, 2011

Here is a link to a nice piece on Adam Curtis’ blog on Rupert Murdoch.

December 15, 2010

New ways of being in everyday life. Is this why we think? Wittgenstein sought to neutralise thought by untangling the knots within our practices which create problems. In so doing he sought to neutralise his most powerful insight. It is possible to traverse forms of life rather than sit within them, and in so doing we can create problems rather than neutralise them. The neutralisation of a problem leaves everything as it is. Wittgenstein had his reasons for this preference. But we are not Wittgenstein. We seek to change things. We seek to traverse already existing forms of life, becoming the active movement of affective relations, a creative force producing a surplus of desire. We are no longer men and women. We are the creators of a new world.

December 11, 2010

It was not too difficult to understand at first. Only later did my faculties fail me. For at that point the doctor had explained everything, and the images, the sounds, the feelings I had been so sure of before began to come apart in my hands, as if they were so flawed from the very start that all that was required was the slightest touch to begin the onset of their decay.

I left the surgery at night, having been interrogated for an indeterminate period of time, not only by the doctor himself, but also by many others, whose names and identities remain to this day in a state of imbalance, unsure of themselves and of their purposes, sure only of my delusional nature and the falsity of the memories I had created for myself, memories which, at the same time, only I had ever had direct contact with: the death of my mother; the mathematical precision with which I once dealt a blow to the head of a rival, using a heavy, blunt, instrument. And since it was with this very same instrument that I had in fact removed myself, by force, from the surgery that night, I thought it prudent to walk until morning, but soon becoming tired of this cycle I began to vary my transportation patterns from walking to skipping, and then back from skipping to walking. The transition between walking and skipping, being the easiest of all transitions to accomplish, I chose having never been accustomed to accomplishing difficult transitions, and by taking this route I was at least assured of the satisfaction inherent in accomplishing something. But this cycle became tiring in the end, and having never accomplished anything more difficult than the transition from walking to skipping, and the reverse transition, from skipping to walking, I felt tempted to try something more challenging.

This temptation was left unfulfilled, however, because of a chance meeting between myself and a young woman who strode confidently toward me and told me something I did not already know. This came as a surprise to me, for she did not speak a word, but simply stood before me and held out her hands. I took them without considering the consequences, as was my usual practice, learned and honed to perfection over a great many years. They were warm and soft, beautiful hands I would say, and I immediately leaned towards her and kissed her. We walked together for some time in the silence, and from time to time we would stop and kiss, disregarding with cynicism the customary prudence of the world within which we lived, for it was not a world we were built for, and we both understood this as we made our way onward.

When our destination revealed itself to us it was morning, but the sun had failed to rise. This did not disturb us for we and we alone had been expecting this absence. Since we could not see in the darkness of the night we could only listen to the waves crashing below us on the rocks. She unfolded the blanket and we sank down together, and for the first time since our meeting she spoke. She told me many things which I failed to understand. I knew the words she used, and I understood that they were arranged and ordered into sentences without grammatical error. And yet these sentences remained obscure, like stories from a book without stories, as one grammatically correct sentence followed another without any easily discernable relationship between them. The despair this induced in me was equally matched by the absolute admiration I had for her voice, which soothed my body just as her words disrupted it, leaving me in a condition of paralysis; and all I could do is lay on the damp ground, being both disrupted and soothed in equal measure by her sadness and her joy, turning my back on the world and leaving it behind as she led me down beneath the waves.