Content

Content to flick away at the modes of repression,
A finger swipe here or there, to the left or,
To the right – it makes little difference – the accountant can make his audit up.
The links in this chain are tiny, momentary flashes of desire,
Anger, disappointment, ennui,
We have always given of ourselves so easily –
Is that why they take so much?

There is no route out of politics by more politics.

Hope is the enemy. Nothing grows in that soil but weeds.

S’Pain

image

Am unable to locate the source
From which it issues –
It seeps out when the dishes
Want washing, or when
I look into the eye of the moon.

I speak it out loud, so it need not
Seep no more – only then it evades
Articulation, goes hiding, pretending
Beneath the sofa it don’t exist at all.
Why so afraid – to be trapped?

All such wild things fear the Trap,
Vicious though they may be, pacing
Back and forth in the cage,
Useless postures, docile without
Intention, ineffectual, subjected.

Orientalists prized the pride
Of the jungle. Or was it
Shame that soared above
Gilded cages of
Emulation?

Without a wound, one wonders
Where the pain should issue forth?
Pace back and forth:
Articulate.
Wait.

S’Pain

image

Stone, pine cone
Cigarette
Mountain
Alone is alone
A bird wound around the branch

Forgive my poised meaninglessness
Mistaken
Cloud
Let’s drive nowhere
Tonight

It won’t be said, but insists
It will be spoke
It won’t be missed
Wriggling in a
Word

I’ve got to go nowhere
Soon
Take my pain with you
It can’t live
Here, alone

On Repercussionism

manifesto9_title

2011

1) On Repercussionism

1.1) No content: A series of superficial movements, which, taken together, form a global movement incorporating each series.

1.2) Series: each video [movement] contains a series of movements. This series proliferates [rhizome] into avenues and alleyways, rooms and chambers; sequential sectional additions. The series provides the desired movement – never singular, absolute, permanent, profound – always plural, temporary, mobile, superficial.

1.3) Expression comes before conceptualisation. Conceptualisation as discharge of energy into immediate arrest. The economy of Repercussionism cannot produce sufficient ‘repercussive energy’ under the arrest of conceptualisation, through the ‘discharge in thought’. Repercussionism is inconsiderate.

1.4) Since we are dealing with superficial movements, expressions without ready conceptualisations but proliferated by plurals, the concept of facade – and the perspective which permits this spectacle – becomes nonsensical. ‘Facade’ becomes a positive object detached of its negative connotation ‘deception’ – each identity a mask, only more masks underneath, what is profound merely has no bottom, like a broken bucket. The container unfit for bearing; the content cannot resist slipping away.

1.5) Inasmuch as ‘facade’ eradicates permanent persons, so does guilt, as a necessary prerequisite, have nothing to hold onto and slips away. Personalities migrate, guilt cannot anchor the personality, guilt proliferates into energy, into action, and the name ‘guilt’, what is signified by the name ‘guilt’, slips. ‘Facade’ becomes a series of chambers, a movement within or through them becomes practical freedom.

 

2) Auxiliaries

2.1) Each video is a chamber, a repercussion emanating from primary movement or desire. Successive movements follow, superficial movements, always against the ‘taking-back of’ movements as guilt demands.

2.2) Each ‘repercussion’ is a navigating-freedom, an ecstatic connection between each successive ‘repercussion’. The absence of ‘content’ within discourse permits non-linear, non-triangulated, superficial movement; reactions, abreactions, negations, resistances.

2.3) “The guilty one is the subject of the statement.” If that subject migrates, proliferates via extension, via “becoming-facade”, guilt dis-integrates, (no coherent whole against which it can ‘index’ and make sensible); becomes a toy, a fiction (to be re-written, re-inscribed, at will.) The toy-fiction ‘guilt’ becomes a positively charged object – the world [global movement] is not seen, but invented.

The Second Three-Year Plan

UNdiscriminate.GOBO(2011-2014)

 

1. Thought, Speech, Text

1.1 Positive promotion of paranoid processes

1.2 The production of rhetoric contradicting altruistic philosophy

1.3 Speaking and the terminology of freedom

1.4 Bad-Faith and the destruction of obligation, regret and laisez-faire

1.5 Creation of self-interest, recovery of ‘selfishness’ as positive attribute

1.6 Naming, re-naming, un-naming and anti-naming; studies in Bad-Faith

 

2. Passivity, Reactivity, Activity

2.1 Combat against Ressentiment in psychological economy

2.2 Reevaluation of energy discharge/reducing need for purpose

2.3 The role of negation in personality

2.4 Problems of archival memory systems/architectures

2.5 Experiments into Radical Insecurity for promotion of reactivity (against Care)

2.6 Investigation of Repercussion and Oblivion Of Action (On What Remains)

2.7 Understanding as a function of participation, not spectatorship

2.8 Consequence not a property of forethought

2.9 The division of labour in the manufacture of Pain (Ressentiment / the ‘dark workshop’)

 

3. Resistance, Force, Vector

3.1 Creation of political avenues [flows] and objections [resistances]

3.2 Thinking as activity (participation), not as discharge i.e. returning to baseline

3.3 Discovery of what energy discharge can do, not what it is for

3.4 The geography of individuality and its potential

3.5 Discovery/creation of limitations (non-reliance on/trust of accepted definitions)

3.6 Strategic uses of contempt

3.7 Affirmation of differential power / against the equalisation of opposing force

On Nomadology

spain_backgroundWe dig tunnels.

 

There is no overarching plan for this superstructure known as The Unstitute, but we know there must be enough ways for us to get out quickly when the need for escape arises. Sure, this edifice takes on all the characteristics of a labyrinth, and it is uncertain who is trapped and who the trapper, but these concerns merely reinforce the idea that the plan must be going well, whatever it is. And though it might seem unlikely to go to such extreme effort to encounter the primordial fear of being trapped – a fear most underrated for its influence within the corridors and back-alleys of society – we are quite content to enmesh our efforts within such base fear. To be sure, we are never satisfied that the labyrinth has reached its state of perfection, inasmuch as each new improvement reveals at least a dozen new weaknesses which must be counteracted on the instant, strategic alterations are hastily drawn-up, construction begins afresh, new weaknesses and blind spots are revealed, plans are abandoned – and yet oftentimes it is these unfinished avenues that constitutes the greatest confusion for the intruder and thus the greatest pleasure for us. Indeed, there is no way to achieve a full satisfaction that the perfect escape should be at all possible, for one can only know such things when a situation of escape is needful, and even then one should hardly be content that the escape plan is perfect, for one cannot presume the intruder to act according to our script. And anyway, satisfaction is hardly our object. The escape itself is a by-product, an excuse for the architecture of escape.

 

Probably escape will never be needed – for who should attack us here? Who would be so egotistic to presume that we should become the object of the Other? But such questions are irrelevant, for we are building upon the possibility of fallible design, and this there is always much work to be done for the construction to be impregnable, or at least open to such a degree that there are manifold routes out to meet the occasion or the nature of the intruder. Every escape we should ever need, every escape out cunning can decide, must be on hand – which predicates that also we ourselves must be in readiness to put this supreme architecture to use without prior warning. Certainly this is not our home. Anxiety is built into the superstructure itself, and it is again uncertain that it’s corridors, chambers and exits constitute modes of escape or modes of capture. Who is trapped? Perhaps we ourselves are the invaders, and this confusing architecture is built around the presumption of occupation, or the arbitrary authority of Place?
We work therefore relentlessly, unceasingly, on our trap. Annexes, arcades, hatches, shafts: our Nomadology takes place within. This is no settlement, for not even the walls ensure our shifting purpose. The weaponisation of this architecture, which subjects our sense of place to such uncertainty as to our proper relationship to it, with such painstaking avoidance of comfort – for we should not wish the invader to be attracted by comfort or wish to stay – and such emphasis on the simulacra of there being no place here at all, elevated or plans to greater degrees of discontents. An escape cannot be perfected, and thus neither can it’s architecture. These discontents are our proper traps, and our further means to escape – not to freedom, for that is just a word – but to an exponential labour of movement through ourselves…

The UNgine Room: The Dark Workshop

 

The surface area of The Unstitute, although not yet fully calculated due to its growth, barely suggests the scope and intricacy of the entire edifice; indeed, the iceberg metaphor falls short in this instance to capture the scale and diversity of unseen processes of manufacture taking place within the entropic engines housed in sub-basements and subterranean levels upon which The Unstitute, as coherent structure, is precariously perched. More of an escarpment than part of the building, the reef-like inversion of machines, rooms, corridors and conduits from which the surface levels draw their cogency appear anything but logical; both in their construction and intended use. For instance, though most of the engines housed in the immediate underground levels appear not to be functioning, they remain in their dilapidated state as testament to the future innovations without which their success would not be. Vast, monolithic engines- so large one can walk inside – yield to a proliferation of smaller but no less useless machines appended to it, so as to justify the initial engine’s existence. Any functioning parts have long since ground to a standstill, rusted into permanent configurations signifying nothing. A new significance arises, but not from the productivity of the machines. They may yet still function, but never in our presence.

 

The slums of the first machinists lie empty on the upper levels, a veritable rabbit warren of tenements, corridors without logic or destination, personal affects long-since discarded. It is easy to be lost here in the constantly proliferating alleyways; one might say the slum was designed to confuse, and yet evidence of design is empirically lacking. Some speculate that ancient engineers still frequent certain quarters, easily able to conceal their existence from visitors through their unparalleled knowledge of the slum-warren, going about their obsolete functions on the obsolete machines perhaps from sheer nostalgia in the absence of pay. Their activity lies unrecorded. Though this is sheer speculation from my point of view, it is clear that speculative content possesses a certain reality here. The entire edifice acts as though nothing is wrong, as though the obsolete machines have not yet heard of their own uselessness, and engineers humour the machines by tinkering with them on occasion. Indeed, it is sad to die. But it is yet more sad to preserve the illusion of value from mere sentiment.
A matrix of generators creates a lattice of large – incomparably large – chambers throughout the initial sub-level. Structurally and spatially improbable, the visitor will note how the sound of their own presence generates audible-fields of feedback, winnowing through conduits somewhere further underground, where an unseen engine grinds into motion. The poetical effects of these larger chambers are merely a side-effect of their unimagined state, the feedback they provide, and the nefarious matrix which is unwillingly fed by the occupant’s presence is semi-vampiric, unsettling inasmuch as the conversion-process happens entirely underground and out of sight, and can only be guessed at its final destination. What use the machines make of the sound of visitors down here is entirely unknown, and is most probably of little or no importance whatsoever.