I suppose I only dismiss ideas in the last instance, when I can’t find a place for them. Even things other people laugh at, I want to imagine that the thinker had a good intention, that they had a desire to express something that was real for them. I have bigger problems with repetitive ideas because I hate feeling like I’m being conditioned. Repetition is the machine at work; the simplest power of re-making you by drumming “it” in. And even if this phenom is everywhere, I feel constantly that I cannot withstand it. To illustrate the contrast: some forms of Right wing creationism are so imaginative and emotional that I feel like they’re a human impulse trying to deal with the coldness of science. More authoritarian and redundant versions kill me, but so also do ahistorical defenses of rationalism. No one should ever tell you what to think or feel. Why are we constantly doing that to each other all the time? Because we are little versions of the machine? We have no world if we’re following or performing.
I don’t subscribe to religion or psychology. I believe that humans are composed of the world that surrounds them, its state and corporate power, commodification, desire perverted by mechanics, sex stripped of care, care stripped of love. I don’t want to live like this, dismissing the unprofitable. I don’t believe in it, even if I believe it exists, permeates.
When I get the courage and figure out how, I will include in here personal stories, and things that I am going through. I ask the reader to abstain from neatly wrapped concepts and categories. The intimacy we give each other is no more and no less than what the world can be on the square, in the new world. Re-shaping how we think love is crucial. It’s so easy to stare into the eyes of the other and think “black,” “blue” or “pretty.” Much harder to let that cinematic lens melt, discipline your own desire, in order to encounter the quiz, need, being, moment or whatever else is possible.