I am onto page 475 of A Thousand Plateaus and I'm reading a bit about capture. In some ways I have lost my way and the reading is a little performative. For a while it felt like a giant version of Kerplunk where cogs were turning and things were falling into place - maybe that wasn't Kerplunk? that was the game where you pulled out the cocktail sticks and everything fell to pieces - I was thinking of Downfall - similar but much more structured. All life can be compared to kids games from the 1970s.
I think I am going through a fuzzy phase. I bought the New Scientist idiots guide to the nature of reality and it gave me very little material world to grasp onto. It seems that in science as in philosophy the nature of the real is under constant de-terrotilisation. The idea that we live in a giant simulation and that every moment that could possibly exist does exist in a constant and ever expanding multiverse and that counter to new materialist thinking human consciousness really does influence the nature of reality - it is not external to us at a quantum level or a macro level. Plus the fact that space and time really may not be what we imagine them to be even if this imaging is part of bringing them into whatever version of reality we want to accept as just about enough to keep us sane. It seems like Alfred North Whiteheads speculations are aligning well with both the new Physics and the new philosophy if in fact either are new at all.
I have just been reading about the state and the town and over-coding and the alcoholic only ever been able to have the penultimate drink rather than the final drink. In simple terms if there are any this concept brings us to a threshold - the edge of the assemblage before it becomes something else. We get a long description of an exchange system of axes for seeds and the point where the exchange breaks down into something else. The alcoholic is better as it makes more sense for if it is a last drink then after this threshold you become something else -from functioning to none functioning, from alive to dead from alcoholic to recoverist. I like this concept of the one before last.
I am like the alcoholic artist giving up everything that makes you an artist, the art object, the codes attempts at communication, the deep long term relationship to a tradition and the bastardizing through instrumentalism of all those traditions. This is the denying art 3 times in the garden before the cock crows. The dissolving of the subjective position into an over expanded field. The denial of gallery or critical discourse of other artists. The taking on the mantle of researcher, of ethnographer, of PhD student, of community worker of play worker, of activist, of avatar. This is a liturgy of deterrotilsation of assaults and over-coding. The point is to come to a threshold so that a territory is visible; to come to the brink of something different, the last glass of Rum before death or oblivion and then to make sure that what is left is not located in the false notion of an independent internalized subjective self but is laid bare and opened up, a body without organs with its Back to the machinic machine its life in proximity to the void, two holes for eyes and a chasm of a mouth.
And then a re-coding within a written text, a writing of a new territory that is supposed to make sense of things. My future self already looking back on this writing in the thickness of the now can see a rights of passage and a getting to the end of the book - the last book or the penultimate book. Was it lock down or was it a mini episode? what was I up to? thinking when I got obsessed with the sweat from my back making the face of a bull on the kitchen floor. The artist asserting a territory that is unassailable or the threshold of something else. The last or the penultimate Bull print?
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