Saturday, December 14, 2002

On Belief

"believe..."

-smashing pumpkins

maybe, for the first time in my life, it's time to believe in something.

"i'm not sure... i'm confused... i'm lost... where's daddy and mommy?... i need a safety blanket... someone to hold my hand and make the choice for me so i never have to..."

not anymore. that's the way of the imaginary paternal law... the one that you constructed so you'll never have to face the horrific kernel of antagonism, the radical indeterminacy and flare of life, the painful shriek of constituting subjectivity. "it's not my fault that things go bad... mommy did it all. they're constraining me. if only they didn't exist i'd be free."

they never existed. they were dead from the start. foreclosed, if you will. you just thought them up so you would never have to really do anything. every problem always gets sloughed off on the scapegoat du jour (modest mouse: "i say i'm not excited bymy life anymore, i blame this town, this job, these friends, but the truth is it's myself").

you thought shackles made you free. you thought you could turn your body cold like a junky to throw off the external cold. the old dull death drive resurfacing in a new form. like gnostics that flagellate themselves only to find perverse pleasure in the paternal law. but the death drive doesn't free you from the theater of desire. it only loops you back in forever, repeatedly approaching and fleeing Jouissance, dying that doesn't occur at once but over and over again FOREVER. like the flying dutchman who eternally sails around the cape, never to end his futile existence.

kierkegaardian angst isn't fear of the finality of death. it's the fear OF ETERNAL LIFE and that there is NO END. that suffering will continue forever. that zombielike state is the death drive.

thus, like antigone, it's time for me to step into death. no more superficial symbolic assaults on "oppressive" institutions that i dreamed up (such as the judgement of others or of my parents). it's time to reconceptualize and reconstruct what the unconscious even is... fuck over the very epistemological coordinates that made it make sense to be a slave in the first place. DO NOT BETRAY YOUR DESIRE. badiou would refer to this as an Event... Events are revolutions, but not just in the overt sense... they are also of love. nihilism and despair are the most horrible, anti-life things that could happen right now. no more reactive politics. an *active* stance, affirming the Good before the Bad, going "into the death" (as alec empire might put it), "shake the disease" (depeche mode) "fight the sickness" (robert smith).

it's a step into death because it threatens my existence as a subject. it calls into question everything that makes me what "i am" and jacks superficial hermeneutics. maybe, in the chain of signification, i will be dead. good.

imagine, if you will, a debate round. the affirmative presents a project, a vision of an imaginary world. the negative stands up and says, "that links to this disadvantage which has this impact." now, some affirmatives (liberals) might say, "no, no, no... we don't link to your argument don't be silly."

BAD MOVE!

BETTER MOVE::: (paraphrasing zizek): "Why yes, you are correct. We DO cause that to happen. That is *precisely* what we intended!!!"

it's time to IMPACT TURN this shit. yes, catastrophe. yes, antagonism. yes, upheaval. yes, danger. yes, nuclear annihilation.

like that le tigre song, "let's run" towards the end, "OR WE COULD FAIL!!!!" of course i can fail. why the fuck did i even try if that wasn't a possbility? it could end up in a flaming wreck with torn up babies thrown for miles. at least i fucking tried when i could have just rotted away on my futon, eating buckets of pasta.

YES. IT IS ALL IMAGINARY. I CONCEDE THAT. the problem is when you deny your desire for the elusive. you just end up circling around to it in even worse ways in the end (return of the repressed, anyone?) the key step is to traverse the fantasy (fantasies are inevitable afterall) and to acknowledge that you have it and to eroticize and revel in it. interpellation is like sexual difference. it's Real insofar as it's impossible. there are GAPS. ideology will always already fail to universally hail us as subjects. there's an indivisible remainder... a ghastly gaping hole that is horrible to look at... but it's there. it's exactly what makes change possible. it's time to stop playing jacks and to try something for the first time ever.

otherwise, nothing matters to me.

Thursday, December 05, 2002

Liar

You’ve been mad at me before, but it rarely hurts this much. Well, i’m not fooling anyone. It always hurts.

Tonight hurts a lot though. It’s a mixture of my recognition of how stupid I was (or lazy, most files on my computer never get renamed and I don’t stop to think about what they mean) and that i was called a liar.

You don’t want to talk now. That’s alright. You don’t have to.

But I have say something somehow, even if I'm not sure if you read this site any more.

I don’t intentionally deceive you. I made the decision a long time ago to be as straightforward as possible and to tell you what I’m doing and thinking as much as possible. Of course, I’m not the most rhetorically capable person on the planet and lots of things come out in the wrong way and convey bad connotations.

But I don’t try to misrepresent things. I would never tell you I hadn’t talked to someone if I had. If i had to lie about something, I should either have been straightforward about it or not done it.

I guess I just don’t understand why you think I deceived you.

I don’t have or even want my past. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to remember it, though. Everyone thinks about earlier parts of their lives. I know you do. Sometimes you have to remember the good things and the horrible things you went through in order to appreciate or understand where you are right now.

you’re the one I care about. i think about your lips, your smile when you’re excited, the nights when you tell me about what high school was like or things you used to do, the mornings drinking tea and eating hash browns, the way you hug me when I feel like the ground is crumbling and I’m starting to cry. Why would I trade that for something from a long time ago?

I need you right now. Old stuff is gone. I'm over pain i used to feel and I'm happy about that

I just wish I was believeable