A DREAM

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JULY 22nd

For much of the dream I was in my house of around it, and it was being assailed by monsters.

Worst of all was the Doppelgänger, who, during a garden party, lured a toddler into the bush. Me and my brother Miles chased after him, but the toddler was too fast for us. Once he left our sight, we never saw him again. Moments after this happened, the Doppelgänger returned, imitating Miles this time. I leapt upon it and tried strangling it to death, but its deck deformed freely, like putty, and I was powerless to stop it. Funnily enough, it didn’t fight back. I spotted a big stick, leapt off and grabbed it. The Doppelgänger say quiescent and afraid the way a trapped insect might, and I smashed its head in with the stick. Its body deformed like clay: (Drawing to be scanned)

I smashed it again and its body crunched up like an accordion. Once more and I think it was dead. The dream cut to an hour alter and I was locked inside. When I was outside, the air and the sky buzzed with paranoia, like a particularly low ceiling. The air felt dense and hyperactive, particulate rather than liquid or void. I was terrified of leaving the house in case I was murdered by a Doppelgänger. The light was also odd. It seemed to filter in as a pale, particulate mass, more like a faintly luminous haze than a projection of light: (Diagram of light occupying space, but not casting rays. I could see it, but dream light doesn’t need to cast rays into your eyes to be seen. Light filtered into the air like sand poured over ball-bearings.)

I could barely open the door without being overcome by terror at the open air. When I was outside, the dream camera was always distant, such that I appeared small, dwarfed by my surroundings. Inside was an extensive zone whose parameters I was very familiar with. I was fully aware of the distance of each wall, ceiling and object and my position in relation to those things. I occupied in my mind a tiny 3D model of the house, which I felt wrapped up in. The precise knowledge of my location closed in around me like an embrace, and I really felt safe, but it was a safety contingent on my terror at the outdoors. I have been in this house before, and I knew my family was there with me, including my Dad and my Aunt. Their presence burned in the house. Everything felt like a model.

I write like a toffee-nosed dickhead straight after I’ve woken up.

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Diaspora

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What are diaspora? People separated from their homeland who don’t fully settle into a new homeland? They only integrate into other places provisionally and they think that one day they’ll be reunited with everyone else from whom they were separated, maybe in their first homeland and maybe somewhere else.

 

The “maybe somewhere else” is incredibly important. There is no such thing as a fixed homeland, because the homeland is the result of occupying space with a diaspora. The diaspora are not the result of a homeland, the homeland is a result of the diaspora.

 

I am eternally foreign. I dream of a homeland which never exists. I dream of a kingdom.

 

I wonder what the difference is between someone who integrates themselves into a new community and someone who retains that sense of being foreign? Irreducibly foreign! Foreignness is a really interesting concept. If you wanted to understand diaspora you’d have to understand what it means to have a homeland. Israel’s an incredibly interesting example of a newly constituted homeland, and I think people come up with the idea of a homeland before a homeland exists.

 

Homelands are all in your brain – that doesn’t make them any less real though, just differently real. Probably more real. I think you can be a diaspora without ever having had a homeland. In fact I’d say all homelands are constituted in the process of ‘return’.

 

Recognition is only the effect of being tricked into thinking something existed before you though of it. Return is the process of convincing yourself a place preceded your arrival. Like any other idea, place is constituted in the process of arrival. You can’t arrive at a place without it first having congealed in your head. There is no place without the potential of arrival at a place, and with the sense of arrival a golden point of gravity to which you are drawn. Arrival is the Golden Point – the pilgrimage precedes the arrival, the homeland follows. In the arrival, the homeland explodes into being.

 

It’s like how some conservatives talk about a return to the Golden Age when the Golden Age never existed – they’re just painting a picture of the future they want and projecting it onto the past. Trueness = Oldness.

 

Hideous frustration at the fact that I can only motivate myself to write when I’m writing to someone else. Why is that? I think the process of opening yourself up to another person destabilises you – flows volatilise and become turbulent. Strange new forms emerge from the chaos that is you. Energy is captured, expended, depleted and you crystallise into a new, more stable whole. This is why we talk about “chemistry” between people – there is an infinitely variable periodic table of human elements ranging across infinite axes. An infinite amount of perfectly unique elements interacting in infinitely variable capacities – every combination is unique. There are bonds between people, bonds in the truest sense of the word, which expresses the chemical and the social.

 

I am not using a chemical metaphor for the social, nor am I using a social metaphor for the chemical. I am using the Image of bond which is neither and both.

 

Flows well – “Strange forms emerge from the chaos of you.” It has the golden ratio, shrinking gradually. 7 5 6 4 3 5 2 3.

…A kingdom of me.

How do I write a blog?

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I’m writing this post to figure out how to write a blog, because I want to write a blog but I have trouble writing about stuff unless I’m writing in conversation with someone else, on a forum or over email. I churn out all sorts of emails thousands of words long but I can’t get it together to write a blog post because I don’t feel like I’m writing to anyone because I don’t have an audience because I’m not writing blog posts. That’s why I’ve decided to break the chain and write a blog post and get an audience so I can write more blog posts.

 What I do right now is take my emails and the posts I write on forums about stuff (eg. Why Baudrillard is a shithead) and I repost it here. That’s pretty much what I did with my last blog too. Occasionally I’d post stuff I wrote in my notebooks for school or my journals. Actually, why am I fine with writing in my journals and not on a blog? It’s because it’s way easier to pick up a notebook and start writing – there’s a lower threshold of effort. But what is effort? I can’t quantify effort – effort undergoes qualitative change at certain thresholds, and “effort” is something I’ve invented to refer to something which is ultimately indescribable. But what a load of shit that is – of course it’s invented, that’s hardly profound! Just a bunch of ten dollar words. If I weren’t so against censoring things I’d have deleted this whole shitty paragraph. The question isn’t whether an idea’s been invented, but what an idea can do and what effect it has on the world around it, how it interacts with other ideas. Ideas are real things you know! Everything you see around you was once an idea in someone’s head, at a particular time, in a particular place. But ideas get wild and feral, take on a life of their own. They’re like babies in that respect – you can have a baby but it’s not just you and the other guy, it’s unprecedented! Bursting with limitless potential! But so is everything.

And why use the threshold metaphor? Because it’s great! A shithouse use of the threshold metaphor implies minimums, maximums, quantities and singular measures. A good use of the threshold metaphor which respects its capabilities takes advantage of qualitative measures, multiple intersecting measures and potentially as many unique states as there are coordinates on your measuring grid-cube. When you use qualitative measures there’s no bigger-smaller, greater-lesser, major-minor because nothing is comparable – you escape the logics of roots, imitations, and originals. The threshold becomes more like a key – a specific combination of different measures producing a specific effect. A measure is a kind of state. A door key is a very simple example of this, being constructed of a sequence of quantitative height measures, that is to say the teeth, which is like a very simple mathematical code made physical, or vice-versa. The code interacts with a lock, and whatever’s contained by the lock – potentially anything! – is made open, released. When you open a front door you’re releasing the inside of a house. I think this is what Deleuze means by “abstract machine” – a way things relate to each other. Abstract machines are metaphors, paradigms. Deleuze is a shithead, I like him. I read in Images of Organisation by Gareth Morgan that all theory is metaphor, and he was right. But that’s a metaphor itself, isn’t it? I’ve got tons of old emails on metaphor, I’ll post them soon. It’s funny how Deleuze gets this singular, imperial title – “DELEUZE” – and Gareth Morgan suffers the indignity of a first name. I’m going to call him Gilles from now on, the old French dickhead.

 “Effort” is just a way of rendering an infinite amount of infinitely variable measures down. But what do I mean by infinity? People typically assume “infinite” means big, but it doesn’t have to – it just means not-finite, un-limited, de-ranged. Something could be very small and infinite. “Infinite” is treated as interchangeable with “immeasurably big” because the qualities of being unlimited only become clear and real when some threshold is broken, exceeded – when we can no longer say where something will end. But the truth is we can never say where something will end! Endings are provisional. Everything is infinite, limitless and constantly overflowing.

 My books are easier to transport so they become external brains easier than a laptop could. They’re low maintenance – no charging. Book software is much simpler than computer software – I can come up with a colour code for a page, a system of shorthand or a recurring term and define it on the page, in the book, across books. There’s also plenty more you can do with a notebook and pens – write in multiple dimensions such that you can’t simply unwrap the text into a single line, use tons of different colours, write calligraphy, make diagrams, draw pictures, rip paper, use other media, make flower pressings, cry on it, put food on it. Paper is fantastic! The page expresses the dichotomy of use and potential, which is false. All dichotomies are false, but only within the logic of imitation and originals – only when they’re considered an imperfect representation of something else. In the logic of immanence, all dichotomies are true. The dichotomy is a real thing which has influence on the world, but which has no relationship to the things it says it represents. The elements of the dichotomy are purely a function of the dichotomy – it doesn’t take two pre-existing things, it manufactures them. It manufactures the sense of trueness through “representation”, which as I’ve said is just the process of tricking people into believing the thing you’re representing preceded your representing it.

The filled page is useful, the blank page has potential. The carved stone is useful, the uncarved stone has potential. The filled vessel is useful, the empty vessel holds potential. In this way the empty vessel is filled with potential, and the potential is transmuted into actual material in the process of filling.

 The size of a notebook changes your writing – I spent 4 journals writing in an A6 notebook. Your ideas are the size of the page. Diagrams are smaller. Ideas happen at a higher frequency, like hummingbirds. There are hummingbird ideas and albatross ideas. Hummingbirds are flittering ideas which require a constant infusion of nectar (psychic energy) or they’ll die. Albatross ideas are austere, like knowing someone who barely ever eats. They are braver, I think, than hummingbird ideas, but the payoff is much slower. The beauty of albatrosses is in endurance and stillness. Hummingbirds are bright flashes of colour and incredibly long beaks but they can’t range very far and they’re always earthbound. The albatross is the beauty of long train rides – the beauty is not in any one location but in the sensation of movement. Endings are tentative for the albatross – the earth is a necessary evil. Hummingbirds are very small and exotic but the fascination wears off fast and you need to find a new hummingbird with a different beak and different colours, you need to find a smaller hummingbird which flaps its wings faster and has more brilliant colours until they dissolve into rainbow motes of shimmering movement. It’s an interesting polarity. One is the sensation of mobile immobility – the albatross and its gliding – the other the sensation of immobile mobility – the hummingbird and its hovering.

You could also say every idea you’ve ever had is just one big idea.

In writing this blog I’ve learned that blogs can do one thing very easily that books can’t – reshaping existing text. Reforging it, hammering it into new shapes – using new metaphors is always fun! I can dive into the centre of a paragraph and expand on a point I’ve thought more about, spiral it off into a new paragraph, or even an entirely new article! Every sentence is a potential book. Everything burns with limitless potential. To declare something finished is to admit defeat. I think the ultimate unit of text in a word processor is a sentence. This is true, in the sense that statements are only true insofar as they’re useful. With the word processor there is a potentially limitless space before and after each sentence into which anything you can conceive of could be inserted.

If this blog gets popular for one thing I’m going to start doing a different thing. Stasis is death. This is a shark’s blog! Writing is a shark’s job – keep moving or die. This expresses the ancient truth that Cold = Dead = Unmoving = Distant = Small and Hot = Live = Moving = Close = Big. This is why we say people are “larger than life” – they are infinite and perpetually overflowing, they redefine the parameters of life in exceeding them. If they are larger than life, how big is life? There is also the immortal truth that Trueness = Oldness = Fundamentality.

I had most of this blog written up but then I stopped because I had to go and do something which I’ve long since forgotten about. I can’t get into it in the same way I did – of course I can still get into it, just not in the same way. How can I get into it? I’m making the mistake of trying to imitate my writing from when I wrote most of it, and imitation is death. I have to make something new. I’m in a bad mood right now, I want to finish this and post it because I missed last week’s deadline. I’m going to keep writing blogs and learn more about them! This blog was a failure, but failure is good, as long as you’re failing in new ways. One thing I’ve noticed is that I came up with the hummingbird-albatross thing the second time I came to writing the article, and I’m very glad about that because it’s my favourite. The secret is to go off somewhere new and explore new ideas rather than forcing yourself to finish the old ones – if the old ones need work they’ll tell you, and their time will come. The last thing I’ve thought is this: Trueness = Oldness = Fundamentality = Secretness.

I am pure.

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God is perfect. Bodies are perfect. Human bodies are perfect. I am perfect. I am not perfect. I hate blogs. I hate nothing. The world is corrupting me. I am pure. Food would only contaminate me. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. The world is impure. I am the world. The world is pure. The world is impure. I am pure. I am impure. I am the world. In the shit. Endless shit. I am the world. I am pure. I am shit. In the bone. In the shit. I am the world. I am pure. I am bone. I am not. I negate myself. I am perfect. I negate myself. I am perfect. I am not. I am not. I negate myself. I hate myself. I hate rhyming. I hate rhymes. Rhymes are shit. I am the only person who can attain supremacy. I am perfect. I am a King. I am a God. I am perfect. I am not. I man. I am man. I man the. I am man. I man man. I am. I amn ot i am., I amf <i am I am. Ia.m I am. I am. I am. I am, I am. I am Iam. Iam, Ian. Iam. I a.a aifM ia Ma im ma ,.I Ia am. I am I am I am Ia m i ama aiam aiam ai ama aia I a mai  ia  am I am I am Ia m Iam i am I am I am I am I am. In the flesh. I am the flesh . I am hunger. I am the hunger,. I am. I am .I am Ia m a iam ai am ima im aim ai I am. I am the hunger I am thue hunger. I amnd the hunger. I am hunger. I am hnger, I hunger. I ‘ms at ear I amstarving I am starving I starve. I starve myself. I startve myself I am pure. I satareve my self. I starve myself to bveoecme pure. I am pure. I must be coems oure. I am pure. I am pure . I ampure I am pure I am pure. I must starve my self to become pure. I must become pure. I am pure. I am pure. I pamre apure a,. I am .pure. U are pure. I am pure. I am becomeing I caam I am becoming. I am tired.  I can’t eat. Not any more. I can’t eat ant more. I have to stay pure. I canb’t erase anything I am anything. I am everything. Combat. I am combat. I am pure. I am pure. I am ecstasy. I have abandoned my limits. In doing so, I become shit. I have become shit. I am shit. I am pure. I am perfect. I am impenetrable. I am diamon. d I amd a iam bomn I am a diamonsdas I am not diamond. I am not diamond. I am pure. I am pure. I am pure. I rise above the world. I am shit I am shit I am hsit ia. I am shit. I am scared. I am pure. I am impeneterable I am impenetaralb I  am impenetrable. I am pure. I am innocent. I a innocent. I am innocent. I am pure.  I am not. I am not. I’m sorry. I’m pure. I’m too much. I’m too pure. I’m too good, and pure. I am pure. I can’t help it. I and I cab’ntr handle it. I tcan’t ait a doit I ca’t do it. I can’t do it. I can do anything. I am perfect. I am eveerything. I have become everything. I have imnfitlte I have infiltrated everything I am pure. I have contaminated everything. I am pure I am not pure. I am pure. I am not pure. I have beocemef I have cbe I have become bgod I have Become God. I mhave I must I have become gGGGGGGGod I have I am God. I am God. I amg Od. I ahve I am pure. I am pure. NOthing can touch me. Nothing can ever touch me. I am hungry. I am pure. I have become pure. I have been made pure by sme. I eamn I eam I am pure. I hungerr I am pure. I am hungry. I am enver i ma UI Ia I am n berver I ham I am a I am b I am never gunhrt I am nebe i am verne uim I am anever I a  ai I am never hungry. I am pure. I am full. I am pleroma I am full. I am fullness and light. I am the Ilight I am the light. I am the lguiht I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light I am the light. And the way. I am full I and M nI am full I am full I am impenetrable I am impenetrable. Penetrable. Penetranble. I am iprne t I am intermimbla. I am. I don’t I do I do I do I do I do diu od id do I do I do. I do. I do. I do. I am tired. I am in pain piain naionopdfnl pain I am in pain. I am in so much pain pain pain pain pain paina pinapaign  ait won’t stop. I t wo I will not stop. I am tired. I am tired. Food would only contaminate me. I want neve tot I want to stop. I want never to stop. I want never food would only contaminate me. I am pure. I am complete. Light.  I am the light. I am immortal. I am endless. I contain all. I contain nothing. I am nothing. I contain all. I cnao I am nothing. I am nothing.

I am nothing. I am pure.

FASCISM

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I wrote this poem because I want to understand fascism because I hate it and want it gone. I will become conscious of it.
 
FASCISM – A POEM
Left-brain makes it SATISFYING to degrade people and to reduce them to a function of your self, dependence, prey, child-bearer, extension of the self – physical or mental or spiritual. The corruption of spirit. The collapse of ideals, and the gradual decay of things until all resembles yourself. House of incest. Power. Familial power, visceral power, sexual power. Collapse and reformation in YOUR image. Total projection of ego. Making things a function of your desire. Living things to be discarded. Joy. Putting people in boxes. Making them less. Making them a function of YOUR self and YOUR desires. They don’t exist in any other capacity. The joy is proportional to the severance. The degree to which a thing is diminished. You eat it. You take people and turn them into things. This is fascism. You take people and make them in your image. You excise those bits of a person which can’t be replaced with bits of you. You fill a person up with yourself. You excise the Jew. You excise the Faggot. You cut them to pieces. You cut them out. This is fascism. They’re not people. They’re not real. They are not in the image of you and they can not be remade in your image. You remake people according to your desires. They fit the plan. You make them fit the plan. You excise them. They are a function. Breeding, labour, service, food. Remade in your image. You make them perfect. You make them fit the plan. They fit the plan. They become you. The world becomes you. They fit the plan. “Worlds self made are so full of monsters and demons”. They become you. You project yourself into them. You project yourself into the world. (struck out – You want to become the world). You want the world to become you. The world becomes you. The world is an extension of your desire and this is pleasurable. You own the world. You have power. People are an extension of your desire and this is pleasurable. This is good. This is fascism. You fill them up. They are empty vessels. They are vessels for you and you fill them up. They are empty. Nothing inside them is real. They are not real. You excise them. They don’t disagree. They don’t disagree. They don’t disagree. You don’t die. They are you. They are property. You own them. If you can not own them they do not exists. They’re not real. They ask for it. If they don’t they don’t exist. They don’t exist. They ask for it. They want it. You fill them up. They want it. You consume them. They become you. You project yourself into them. You fill them up. That which is outside the plan does not exist. You make sure. They fit the plan. They fit the plan. You make sure.
God made us in his image. This is the essential fascism of the Demiurge, as conceived by the Gnostics. This is the image of god painted in blood and shit, towering over man. God doesn’t know what we are, what we can be.

Baudrillard is a shithead

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I VOW TO WRITE AT LEAST 1000 WORDS A WEEK OF CONTENT SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS BLOG TO BE POSTED EVERY FRIDAY FOR THE NEXT 12 WEEKS.

This is incoherent but I hope it comes together and has psychic energy:

PART 1

Deleuze is better than Baudrillard. I mean if you think about it, Baudrillard’s making this really conservative claim that everything that came after a certain point is just a shallow imitation of The Golden Age when men were men and the real was real. He makes some valid points about how it’s easy to mistake our models for reality given they’re so pervasive these days, but suggesting we’re doomed and that this is somehow a world we can’t learn to cope with is a cop out. Deleuze’s thoughts on the simulacra in the second paragraph here are way better and more interesting than Baudrillard’s because he takes the simulacrum as something potentially positive.

When things are rootless (rhizomatic) there’s no need to compare them to any other state because they’re happy to just be things in themselves, and we can explore how they differ on their own terms. “[The simulacrum] harbors a positive power which denies the original and the copy, the model and the reproduction”, just like that stuff I posted about the synth horn in Problem Areas. The fact that it’s indistinguishable from the supposed ‘real’ object exposes how shitty and flawed the idea of “real” and “imitation” is in the first place. Baudrillard’s entire body of work is founded on the idea that the simulacrum makes everything false rather than making everything real, and the fact that he can’t let go of this bullshit “reality principle” against which everything is compared and found wanting is what makes him a shitty theorist. There’s a longer article on Deleuze & Guattari on the simulacrum here.

Susan Sontag has some really good stuff on the replica and the simulacrum here in ‘AIDS and its Metaphors’ from page 87 – 93.

PART 2:

There’s a good explanation of the Order of Simulacra here, beginning with the Holy Roman Empire on page 10 and ending with page 13. (From Manuel DeLanda’s ‘War in the Age of Intelligent Machines’, which is an absolutely fantastic book.)

The typical definition of simulation says it’s the process of fulfilling a model’s criteria for what constitutes a certain state, when on an assumed ‘deeper level’ they actually aren’t, eg. the stick is actually a stick insect. In the moment a model’s criteria are met, it’s impossible for the model to determine whether they were met through simulation. We can only describe something as simulation after the fact of its failing to meet the criteria of a different, typically more complex model, or the same model at a different time. Simulation can only occur in hindsight, ie. you can only know you’ve been lied to in hindsight.

Baudrillard is so intensely and fundamentally conservative because he’s confused his model, his “reality principle”, with the real world. He’s marked a point in history at which the world became wrong – when “reality disappeared”. He says the simulacra is “free of all reference to the real” because he can’t accept that reality’s moved on without him. “Baudrillard’s framework can only be the result of a nostalgia for the old reality so intense that it has difformed his vision of everything outside of it.” It’s not that we’re “unable to distinguish” simulacra from ‘reality’, but that there is no distinction – they’re the same thing at different stages of life. One regime of truth displaces the old regime – this is why Hyperreality is “more real than real”. Hyperreality is New Truth. It’s fresh reality. In time it will fade and cool and congeal into ‘reality’. As it dies, it will begin to appear false. This regime of truth will pass, and so will the next, and so on to infinity.

Counterfeit, replica and simulation correspond to thresholds of simulation. Baudrillard would describe these as thresholds of exactness in representation – we get better at fooling more precise models, we can create illusions of greater depth. Advances in technology (eg. Photography) enable qualitative leaps in our model fooling ability – they enable us to pass a threshold at which the simulation and the object of simulation (eg. A parrot) become indistinguishable to the model. “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter!®” is a great example of this – advances in food technology have (So Unilever claims) passed the threshold at which the biological-taste-model-fooling technologies of Unilever’s food engineers can render the difference between butter and “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter!®” imperceptible to our biological taste model ie. Our sense of taste. Getting back to music, audio technology can produce a noise which differs negligibly from a human voice according to our biological human voice detection model ie. Our nervous system + ears.

But on a deeper level, these advances in “exactness in representation” are really advances in the production of truth. They produce their model of the world and assert its dominance – in supposedly ‘fooling’ a model, they assert the existence of a model to be fooled. The genius of Trident Crisis isn’t that you could mistake it for something from the late ’80s, but that you could mistake the late ’80s it’s constructed for something which existed prior to Trident Crisis. Trident Crisis is an image so powerful it can trick you into believing the reality it’s constructed pre-exists it.

Baudrillard would call Trident Crisis a simulation because it imitates a reality that ‘never was’, but this is because simulation is raw truth – newborn reality with no basis in the old regime. All our simulations fight for dominance until one gets to say “I’m true, no one else is” and then we get reality. As I said, simulation gives lie to the fact that reality is a load of shit. Everything you think is reality has been constructed this way. Everything Baudrillard thought was reality had been constructed this way: “He cannot see that all the things he says have crumbled were simulacra all along.

There is no ‘truth’ except that which is constructed through imitation (mimesis). Re-presentations assert certain things about the objects they’re ‘imitating’. Firstly, that there is an object to be imitated – an object with precedes them. Secondly, that this object can be imitated. In this way, the ‘imitated’ object is composed of the assumptions on which its imitation is founded – the state of being classified as an ‘imitated’ or ‘original’ object is a product of the process of ‘imitation’, not the other way around. Representation is the production of truth. Advances in simulation are not simply advances in our ability to produce a 1:1 representation of the world, but in our ability to assert that what we have produced is a 1:1 representation of the world, and in doing so to construct the world. Trident Crisis is not an image of the late ’80s, but an image which produces the late ’80s.

“The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth — it is the truth which conceals that there is none. The simulacrum is true.”

Representation is just the trick of saying “This thing existed before I produced it, this thing exists independent of me.” Truth is the trick of saying your story is the only one that can be told. The problem is saying “this is true, so this other thing can’t be true.” Everything is true. Baudrillard says there’s a ‘deeper level’ on which simulation differs from reality. The truth is there is no deeper level. Models produces states of existence. Simulation and reality are two sides of the same coin. Simulation is truth defined positive-inclusively, reality is truth defined negative-exclusively.

Why doesn’t “I can’t believe it’s not butter” taste like butter?

“We have consumed “I can’t believe it’s not butter” for so many years that we no longer like real butter. Real butter has to be refrigerated and is very hard to use. It’s what the taste buds get use to.”

If you want to learn more about this, read these guys:
• Susan Sontag – Against Interpretation
• Deleuze & Guattari – Anti-Oedipus & A Thousand Plateaus.(The idea is that you zip around the books and read it in whatever order you like, but that’s the best way to read everything imo. Pick these up in book form if you get the chance.)
• Brian Massumi – A User’s Guide to Capitalism & Schizophrenia (Check out p. 181 note 12 for more on what I talked about here, also ‘Pleasures of Philosophy’ is worth reading. Everything on this page is worth reading, especially First and Last Emperors which is incredible)
• Manuel Delanda – Nothing really relevant to this beyond what I posted, but his books are cool and you should read them. He works with Deleuze & Guattari, like Massumi.
• Umberto Eco – Travels in Hyperreality.

Scraps

“Against cynicism, a thin but fabulous hope — of ourselves becoming realer than real in a monstrous contagion of our own making.” “Gigantic hologram in three dimensions, in which fiction will never again be a mirror held toward the future, but a desperate rehallucination of the past.” “Well this can’t be a parrot – it’s nothing like the one on TV!” The surface is true. Depth is where lies live. It’s like wave-particle duality – it’s not that these things are both waves and particles, it’s that they’re neither. There is a state of being an imitation apart from the logic of mimesis. Truth and imitation are processes of asserting dominance. Simulation has never been imitation – imitation is the alibi. Simulation is the production of truth. Reality is a story which pretends it’s the only one that can be told. Baudrillard has stumbled upon the birthplace of reality and recoiled in terror.

BONUS – Really old posts on this thing

POST 1

What I’ve taken from OPN is that there is holiness in everything, there is beauty in everything, and that no matter how ‘alienated’ we become there will always be the potential for immanence, punctum, religious experience. It’s the idea that the fake trombone sound or the anime mask can go beyond the ‘close enough’, that it can go beyond the logic of representation and mimesis and take on a life of its own – a life just as real as that of the ‘real’ trombone. Declaring a trombone sound more ‘real’ than any other is just the same as saying your sexuality is more ‘normal’ or that you’re any more ‘human’ than anyone else.

It’s like that old painting – ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe.’ One mistake is to assume that this representation of a pipe really is a pipe, but the second mistake is to assume that it is a representation. It is neither a pipe, nor is it a representation of a pipe – it simply is. Whatever we decide to call it is papered on top of its pure being-in-itself. And this goes back to the problem of ‘final interpretations’ – there is simply the text, and the meaning produced in the process of reading-writing the text, produced by the relationship between the reader and the text. Not produced by either one of them, but by their relation.

The truth is that if nothing is real, everything is real – or I suppose has the potential to be real, to be a thing-in-itself. Truth isn’t a ‘fact’, it’s not a static thing – it can be changed. Truth is just the sense of rightness and inviolability. That’s not to say truth isn’t real, or that nothing is true – just that truth only happens inside our heads. ‘Fact’ is fiction which doesn’t know it’s fiction, ‘interpretation’ is reading which doesn’t know it’s reading – both make the error of assuming someone else has to think what you think.

POST 2

James Ferraro posted Jarvid 9: Kava Jar Race DISC II PART I on facebook. The song doesn’t have any depth, in the sense that all its levels exist simultaneously on the same level and the song doesn’t change but exists all at once as sections drift from the virtual to the actual and back at their leisure. There are no beginnings or endings!! It only recedes or advances. Linear time is hierarchical, the past cedes it ground to the present. Linear time is territorial. The past dies. This is the Eternal Moment, the acknowledgement that timespace is a 4-dimensional solid within which everything is occurring at once and consciousness appears as a line gnawed through hyperspace, brightness. Neither hierarchical nor non-hierarchical – Neither-Neither. Is – Surfacelessness and absolute depth. Surface – pure vacuity. Neither. NO absence – the nothing which is full – the No-Thing. Gecko from the same album is good too.