Our home is slipping into another dimension. Today I come home and the walls are stark, the furniture under plastic. All our belongings packed away, the kitchen inaccessible. Eating from a sachet. Outside, the heat is too oppressive, so I stay in, and feel like the house in ET, smothered in a false womb... as the men in hazard suits close in.
Andrew, on the off chance you're reading, I spent my day visualising point-of-sale ideas for a world-conquering soft-drink. Thought you'd be amused.
I have very little to say in the nearby identity/commonality/difference controversy, except to note that the historically sedimented parameters of the broader debate in which this is taking place are fairly loaded and not particularly useful. (I'm talking the historicity of the very thing we call the individuated subject, not just what theorist/activist X said a few years ago.)
And in any case, whenever a debate starts getting into the territory of whether Deleuzian vectors are "good" or "not good enough", I like to remind all concerned that flash floods, earthquakes and bushfires deterritorialise. It's like a physics of microsociality, not an ideology. Hence the need to supersede morality with strategy.
Anyway, I'm writing this from my phone, and my hand is sore...
