“To the poet, philosophy is pure emotionalism, poignancy for its own sake. To the poet, philosophy is cause to weep for no reason.” —Alberto Lopez, In Pursuit of Zosimos
Nasrul knew the game was rigged. He was from a brutal background and had seen the aestheticisation of mainstream corporate values for what they were. Information had become a parody of itself. What was it saying? What did it mean? N was not inclined to be moved by any bullshit information.
N discovered a representation reduced to a vague feeling. Its meaning would have no further implication except in a fictional sense. So, any statement made by someone or other without factuality would not imply anything more than the meaning ascribed to it. Factual interpretation was unnecessary as it was all too often anathema to reasonable action.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been equal to another human being.”
“A myriad of scenes reveal / a void forever / Simultaneous flames / no antecedent / for hearts and knaves” — Namdak, Swiftly to the Hills (trans. Bradley Rodier)
Sayings and customs were constructed and reconstructed within the gloom of the reader’s chamber. Although they had been spied in the square on the night of the execution, the reader, a sentient creature, had not yet been found in contravention of protocol.
Reality was once heroic, something like dying for one’s country. A great enthusiasm was shown for productivity and innovation. The illusion that the free market would labour for the crime of supply and demand gave total satisfaction, but the collapse of the real had already taken place decades ago and an idealistic fanaticism had given in to cynicism and lassitude. Eventually, the heroes of the ideology of reality would realise they were victims of the myth of creativity, but still they would imagine it was preferable to destruction. (more…)