Everything tells me to, my intellect [if I have one], consciousness, my feelings and emotions even my Montreal fluffy affect department [oh, no not that one – it tells me to be always more than one, holy fuck as I didn’t have enough of one me?] all of them tells me to, tells me give up and to comply to the general order. I should follow tendencies of correct behavior and resign, invest properly and agree to be part of markets, to strategies of survival, measurement and compatibility. But I can’t give up. I can’t and write out of despair. I’m maker of dance and choreography and I’m in tears.
I will not and cannot support consciousness but must fight it to bitterest of bitter ends. “Give up and swallow the little suffering that it implies”, but no I cannot, I rather live with the increased pain whatever getting out of consciousness will cost me. To be alive is not alright, I must fight the desire to consider that life is okay. Consciousness and life, a good, and okay life, that is what I need to fight. I fight, wave my arms wildly to become existence and non-life.
Certainly, I exist in markets, I perform strategies and negotiate diplomatically yet just because I do, do I necessarily need to subordinate myself to these. Even if I will come out vanquished my job is to refuse, not refuse as a protest against anything, no this is a refusal to myself and the petty desires I can already have have and enjoy.
I’m not in favor emancipation, I’m against it, because emancipation is already from something, my refusal is worse I must emancipate myself from emancipation as a form of struggle, an aimless struggle towards an annihilation of myself as myself. Emancipation is connected with gratification, the struggle I need to engage in must not offer any from of gratification, no affordance and certainly no opportunities for investment. Anything that I can conclude works is not enough, only that that doesn’t work is acceptable and worth further investigation. Whatever works is always already inscribed and possible [spti on Woody Allen]. It is not enough to set up problems for myself or the world. To problems I can have there are already more or less relevant solutions. What I must do is to force myself to invent problems to which there are absolutely no solutions. I must not solve problems, I must resolve myself in favor of new problems. I already have the answers, I know what is wrong, but neither to identify what is wrong nor accept my answers is sufficient. I must keep watch, keep awake. I must take all threats seriously, but must not give in, don’t be seduced by them, identify with their surprising yet conventional monstrosity, I must not resign in front of false sense of guilt and justice they invite. I must refute my desires to protest, my hopes for some revolt, as they confirm my idealist light leftist subjectivity and already responds to an already producible future, already some kind of prescriptive capacity, to forms of emancipation. Fuck that, it is only the simple formation of a projectable future. I must stop myself, cut my own limbs that bring me towards hope. I must annihilate my petty belief in the future and with a complete lack of expectation engage in future, future as absolute non-differentiated becoming, future not as the actualization of tendencies already in existence but in avenir a break with any form of perspective. The future is already engaged in perspective, in formation, whereas avenir is future understood as horizon, future as indivisible and continuous alien. I don’t care if such an aimless struggle or keeping watch implies an argument vis-à-vis a great outdoors, immanence or plain of consistency. This is not a matter of analysis in favor of a philosophically consistent subject, no we are and must by necessity be against such a subject, both the philosophical and the consistency part, avenir is rather and also precisely their contingent destruction or putrefaction.
It might appear childish and idealistic but there is no artistic practice that we can respect that does not understand avenir as its in-one-identity of the last instance. Liberty’s rigor is way more difficult than liberty itself. I will not give up, never. It is my promise, my only promise. I will never, never give up.