Pineal Vacuity

"the scholiast who annotated Virgil was wrong; understanding is what wearies us most of all. to live is to not think." --Book of Disquiet "there is only one man who understood me; and he didn't understand me." --dying words, Hegel "there is no such thing as understanding." --U.G. Krishnamurti "i'll give you my body, just sell me your soul" --Hole the point is there is no point. this is exactly why the so-called Zen "masters" would ruthlessly interrogate their obsequious, steadfast pupils with nonsensical riddles--and every time they were threatened with an answer, shocked the pupils with their limitless abuse. life is not only purposeless, it's flamboyantly, violently absurd, and the moment you give it any credit, attribute it any intelligence, you lose. in any case, there is no way to win. nothing is ever seen until the very end. life is a slow, wary unveiling. don't peek! it's not worth it. it is oxymoronic to say that the brain "has" a "mass"; there can be no brain "cancer" by definition because the act of intelligence itself is malignant and out of control (and in a sense, illusory). & ye shall know them by their fruits. look at the world, our collective embodied mind. the brain is the body's failsafe mechanism, its grief-cheating device, a weak justification for the Almighty, intractable, noumenal Will--so long as we think we can rationalize our perverted thoughts (all of them selfish--wishful fantasy as opposed to commonsense despair) and so skirt true shame, repentance, absolution (the christian or "goth" who self-lacerates atones for their perversity). those who have not killed themselves in the sense of self-dirempting deterritorialization know nothing of self-respect. it is not merely the "slave" who is the truth of the Hegelian dialectic, but the sexual slave. all obsessive rumination is the irrational rationalization of trying not to "sell out" or "sell one's soul". Klossowski: "The industrial slave can either establish a strict relationship between her bodily presence and the money it brings in, or else she can substitute herself for the function of money, since she herself is already money: at once the equivalent of wealth and wealth itself." to attempt to dis-identify oneself with this figure of the industrial slave (discussed by Klossowski in "Living Currency", called by Michel Foucault "the greatest book of our time") is the epitome of naiveté. you're a whore, I'm a whore, we're all whores, as long as we stop pretending. as i have said, the beginning of self-knowledge is SHAME, and the logical conclusion to insight is altruistic suicide (selling out, giving in/up, like Nietzsche submitting to madness). 'analysis' literally means to break apart; i'm being glib, but the only analysis in the absolute sense is the one which remains once we have surrendered ourselves to DEATH. the space of TRUTH, like the space of literature, is the space of DEATH. it is ORPHIC SPACE. GOD, if he could think, would be a PIG, as Bataille put it, in the preface to "Madame Edwarda" (a thought that causes him to TREMBLE). you may think you know what this is all about, but if you have any shred of pride left, you have failed to understand. we only "understand" as spiritual automata (Leibniz), that is to say, we do not understand but we are understood by GOD/DEATH of which we are the univocally expressed puppet/plaything/strumpet. as Deleuze explains apropos of Nietzsche, the will-to-power is not a question of wanting something, it's a question of what wills in the will, it is a question of being-willed by the Outside. you are the Klein bottle's prolapse, the black hole's inner suck, the ruined, demented, giggling whore littering the palace of the czar in Zulawski's "Boris Godunov". silencio. th th th that's all folks. thanks for reading. stick around for the afterparty. peace. -THE SUICIDE SISTERS (Elizabeth Aldrich and Candy Rhizomatic), 10:28 PM, 10/27/2019 Part One of a two part story on Critical Orifice issue 2. Published October 27th, 2019 by Critical Orifice.