Politics

Post-political

The game of politics is a game of many all fighting to suck the golden tit. As workers we can only watch those with privilege access the tit and thereby attempt to suck it dry. But, for a while, the tit was great. It looked great and we respected those sucking it. Now the tit is wrinkled and sagging and dry, producing little to nothing. Yet we continue to watch them suck on the tit that is dry. They regurgitate dry nothing for our consumption. People are beginning to notice there is nothing left. Yet we continue to watch and play their game. And this, my friends, is why we are dead spectators for a spectacle removed of its former glowing glory, its fountain of youth possibilities; the reproduction (facsimile), imitation (copy), of reality is definitely the most profitable market out there and it has been for quite a while. We watch our collective death as it plays out before us. We are so dead and we continue to die to live. We consume because we are dead and we know it. We f*****g know it but pretend we don’t. So dead, in fact, that we fear death above anything else. We are so afraid and that is why we have no control.

Speaking of control--the apparatus. The apparatus is a mechanism that removes us further and further from our underlying fundamental totality of being. That which makes us not us. That which subjectifies us, making us into a subject in a series of specific relationships tailored to a specific function. Before the apparatus we are nothing"as we should so rightly be. I only want to be and nothing else. I hope this doesn’t sound selfish. I only want to interact--communicate and share--with others. Embrace the other, lose the self (that internal sameness). Share and create, produce! Produce relationships outside the dull nature of production/consumption. Only in recognizing our collective dispossession and turning it inside out can we even begin to become. I want becoming, not change. F**k change, f**k it.

F**k what exactly? F**k work? F**k life? F**k the world? No, f**k them. F**k their control over us. F**k the odds that are against us. F**k numbers. F**k expectations. Let something simply become. To come into being. To pass through the threshold of realization. To shift, to mutate, to lean ever-so-lightly upon the fencepost of existence. My friends, we must stop dying and consuming and start creating and producing--we must become. Until then, nothing more shall be said here.

Author's Note

Be as critical as you wish. Do not hold back.