Category Archives: Fiction

flesh as limit-experience.

We must always seek experience at its furthest limit. We must push the boundaries of love and sex, of life and violence, of presence and vision. Only then can we touch the void. Only then can we break through lack and reemerge into the open. All beings are, by definition, in chiasmic contact with all of Being. Continue reading

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fidelity to the void.

What does it mean to turn inwards, to dive deep? What unknowns are contained within this vast network of caves, at which humanity has only sat at the mouth? Us limit-seekers, we condemn the simplicity and safety of the sun, and instead, we turn inside ourselves, create a break with historical narrative, and plunge, unspeakably, into the black belly of the cave itself. That nadir contains Dionysian truth; we dance in its infinite darkness and sing out with the pain it causes us. Into its depths, that endless abyss, we jump with open wings. As only the void is infinite. So let us speak of endless things. As it is we. We are the speleologists of radical Truth. Continue reading

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minutor sacer.

Sovereign power exists only because man has separated the miners off from himself while simultaneously keeping the creatures in a relation of negative difference via inclusive exclusion. Because of this logic, which is also the paradoxical logic of “sacer,” the Shade has become the most overt sphere of biopolitics in the history of the world. Here, sovereign power confronts the miners unmediated. They are naked before the twisted whips of capital. Here, the miners instantly become “minutor sacer,” hallowed and damned. They are stripped of everything. They stand before us merely as transparent life. Continue reading

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on madness and art.

There is not enough madness. Continue reading

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