antipopper

People are always amused by my stupid non sequiturs. Wide eyed, I’ll tell people that the sun keeps things warm, you know. A radical notion. Here’s a new one for me: bodies are real, and they can move, and do different things.

It might have always been obvious intellectually, but only lately have I been able to truly understand: almost everything in my previous work context was unsustainable and stupid, simultaneously miserly and wasteful, so utterly devoid of interest or real desire. Most of you know that I’m no fan of reactive disavowals of commercial mass culture — I had my own radical analysis of my situation, thankyou very much. Indeed, part of my horror is that the shit in which I was involved didn’t even work on its own terms. No method, no engagement. It was the autonomic assemblage: a bunch of sometimes very smart people on zombie autopilot.

Oh, and while I’m whining, I want to register my increasing irritation with some people closer to home: those self-indulgent, reactionary, wannabe “psychogeographers” whose opposition to bourgeois capitalist culture is actually aristocratic, whose obsession with intensity is actually just an intellectual fetish, whose quirks of arbitrary taste are passed off as a political programme, and whose aspirations towards being “dangerous” will ultimately cover for misogyny, racism and greed. Rot in your little aesthetic fiefdoms. Okay, you are very interesting, though. There there.