Werewolves Against Cyborgs and Alex Jones

A piece I wrote about Alex Jones, published by Gods and Radicals

GODS & RADICALS

Alex Jones is making headlines this week- here is our take on it:

From Julian Langer

Alex Jones is a journalist.

Alex Jones is a Human.

Alex Jones is a conspiracy theorist.

Alex Jones is a pioneer.

Alex Jones is offensive.

Alex Jones is an explorer.

Alex Jones is fake news.

Alex Jones is animated.

Alex Jones probably has high blood pressure, which is why his heart is big.

He likes to fight (apparently).

He is Here (but not here).

He likes to eat children (he doesn’t really, but he does).

He has no life force, he’s not a real person and he doesn’t (Really) exist.

“I’m like a chimpanzee, in a tree, jumping up and down, warning other chimpanzees when I see a big cat coming through the woods… I’m the weirdo? Because I’m sitting in a tree going OOH OOH AAH AAH AAH OOH AAH AAH OOH OOH…

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My Pond

My pond is a place where time melts away and the bird song, cool breeze, moss and trees enter into me and become everything.

I need more pond time, but I am awful at putting myself here.

#chilling by #pond #feet #birdsong #foottattoo #flipflops

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#pond #selfie #trees #branches #branchesandsky #hippie #hairy

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#pond #selfie #tree #branches #branchesandsky #hippie #hairy #chilling #hashtagssuck

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The Music Won’t Be Over (a response to a friend)

There lies within the world of anti-civ discourse one single seemingly unanswerable question, which we all need to answer for ourselves. We each might have an answer, though none will be the answer. And everyone else’s answer is going to disappoint us, because it is not our own. Our own answer won’t be our own for long, as we will likely be answering differently soon. 

This question is – “do I go full primitivist, or do I not smash my records, cassettes, CDs, MP3 player and iPod, and survive daily life in this culture?” 

Ian E Smith recently published his essay published in the latest Green and Black Review on his site Uncivilised Animals, where he attempts to address this question. His essay is another anarcho-primitivist piece that presents a fantastic historical analysis, which seems to miss the immediatist value in using the weapons of the enemy against them. 

Sure, recorded canned music is alienated, plays into machinic-narratives of production-consumption within mass media culture, and lacks the beauty of the shared experience of living live music between friends and loved ones. Sure, seeking and creating the experience of living music within a community and/or T.A.Z. holds immense value for those of us within the anti-civ world.

In the first 3 years following my cancer treatment I organised charity mini-festivals to raise money for cancer charities, with local bands and musicians performing. These events were living spaces, where we came together as friends to be together and experience something beautiful.

A couple months ago my friends daughter died and they asked me to sing at the funeral. I sung one Beetles song and one I’d written for my friends. I’ve performed live for years and have a relative degree of comfort in doing it, but on that day I couldn’t stop shaking throughout. Every vibration of those songs coursed through my body and into the space that was our shared grief. 

These spaces were places of honest beautiful experience, immediately valuable. We co-created spaces that were in those moments meaningful, which dissipated into memory and life went on. 

But we don’t live in these spaces all the time. These moments cannot be found easily within the belly of the Leviathan. The techno-sphere has left the world exposed to silence, where the songs of wild-Being, the birds, the forests, the wolves and more, are heard less and less. Sure, the songs of the wind and rain and sea and river ring out beautiful melodies in ways that this culture will never entirely silence. Sure, the energetic vibrations of our embodied being are songs unique and wonderful, which resonate in spaces, creating both discordance and beautiful harmonies. But we largely live in silence. In many ways, we sing out to a black hole that consumes our songs with no reverberation. And we are trying to survive this. 

Like black holes in “outer space” exploding due to quantum bouncing and transforming/collapsing into their opposite the white hole, the silence of the techno-sphere/civilisation/the Leviathan will eventually collapse into a crescendo whose exquisite reverberations will be the living energy of wild-Being

But right now, in this immediate present we are located in, the songs that are available to us are not always living in the way I have described, but are often canned, in the ways distasteful to anarcho-primitivists. 

Something Smith misses in his account is that the easy availability of recording software and equipment means that the act of recording music they have written is a means of using the weapons of the enemy against them for musicians to direct their energies. He recognises what punk and folk subcultures have created through recorded music, but fails to acknowledge what jazz, psychedelic, gabber and other musical aesthetics that don’t fit the “anarchist” cliches, have also created, as means of survival. He doesn’t recognise that for the 17 year old goth kid creating ambient black metal music on their computer, the music they’ve recorded is a meaningful and beautiful attack on the constructed social-ontology that is the machine they hate. 

The indigenous people who occupied the land we now call America stole the firearms of settlers and used them against those imposing domestication/civilisation upon them. To not use this weapon of the enemy against them seems stupid to me, and if we’re gonna use it we are best served using it more skilfully than our enemy does. Sure spears and bows and arrows are in many ways more beautiful weapons, but if I’m facing someone with a gun, I want a gun too. 

And this is what, for the most part, anarcho-primitivism lacks. It might be an excellent form of historical-anthropological realist critique, one that is valuable and beautiful. But it misses out the need for tangible, immediate means of survival and attack. 

So my answer to that question is, I won’t yet, and will enjoy the music available to me that is living and that which is canned. 

“The inexpressible depth of music, so easy to understand and yet so inexplicable, is due to the fact that it reproduces all the emotions of our innermost being, but entirely without reality and remote from its pain… Music expresses only the quintessence of life and its events, never these themselves.” Arthur Schopenhauer
“Without music, life would be a mistake.” Friedrich Nietzsche

I am a psychic anarchist, a fundamentalist pluralist, a nihilist with zenarchist friends and I give more of a shit about smashing badger traps than I do about fringe-philosophy fallouts

I mostly avoid internet dramas, save to speak up for friends on occasion, and detest comment section discussions. Yesterday I unintentionally started one, which surmounted to being a shitstorm of hilarity and disappointment.

The ins and outs of who said what, why they said it, who they said it to, what they were talking about and all the rest I’m not going to bother relaying here, because it doesn’t warrant repeating. We are all living in the nightmare that is this culture, in the belly of the beast; we all have come from life experiences that are similar in many ways and different in many others; we all are doing our best to survive this culture, in what ways we can. I tend not to judge, because I know what life experiences got me to where I am now, all the pain, suffering, laughter, love, sadness, joy, confusion and all those sensations that I cannot reduce to one simple identifiable word. I know that I will never know the life experiences that got any of those people in that drama, you or anyone else to wherever they are, so I tend not to judge.

This doesn’t mean I am tolerant of stuff I find ugly, though my intolerance isn’t guided by any moral code and is much more of a present-subject-aesthetic form of intolerance – similar to intolerance towards a particular piece of music, or food. I generally find bigotry to be intolerably ugly. I generally find dogmatic moral sentimentality ugly. I’m not going to seek to justify my aesthetics around this stuff, for the same reasons why I don’t justify my music taste or preference in foods or art – the reasons why I have these tastes don’t really matter to me, all that matters to me is that this is what I like and that is what I dislike.

I don’t claim to have a perfectly mathematically logical easily reducible position/perspective here. I’m much more interested in being authentic and honest than I am with being, than I am with being a bastion of perfectly mathematically logical morality fitting into the machinery of normative socio-ontic existence.

Before I go on, I want to say that my last post on this site was not a book review, nor have I ever stated it was – it was a comment on another writers relationship to the community I am part of (and, for the most part, the response really revealed more than the piece ever could have).

But anyway.

I want to state here, for anyone confused about me in anyway, that I am a psychic anarchist, a fundamentalist pluralist, a nihilist with zenarchist friends and I give more of a shit about smashing badger traps than I do about fringe-philosophy fallouts. I have never really claimed to being much more than no-Thing, save for being a naked animal, dressed in human clothings, dancing a furious dance to the music I find beautiful. I don’t give a shit who judges me and for whatever reasons why they judge me, because no one other than I know all the experiences that got me to who I am in this present moment – save for those few friends I hold closest and dearest who know me best. I’ll stop living when I’m dead, and even then I hope to still be a force of beauty within the world.

Jensen vs The Anarchists

From the moment I learnt that the project existed I have expected I’d feel disappointed by what would come from it. This morning I awoke to see his publishers had released the cover art to Derrick Jensen’s analysis on anarchism, with a section from the introduction – here is the link.

  
I’ve received some internet bashing before for defending Jensen and for quoting him in various pieces I’ve written, and received regularly emails from 1 individual accusing me of being a transphobe, informing me they’d beat me up, for having been a member of DGR for a period and for having written for their sites in the past. This always amused me, because even if I’m being hated at least I’ve done something, and that anyone would take the time to send hatemail to me is just absolutely hilarious. But anyway. I left DGR for a number of reasons, most of which can be reduced to my general disagreements with the Left, but mostly because of the organisations stifling rigidity, because of its apparent anti-pluralism (which is very much an unconscious aspect of the group), the coinciding dogma that comes from that, and because I have little desire to be tied in any way to Jensen and Keith’s words regarding trans and queer folk and on anarchists. 

Before I go on, I want to state what I value Jensen for. I think Jensen and his organisation are very good propagandists for the environmental milieu and that this is something I value, as I value anything that supports the living world over this culture. I value Jensen particularly for Endgame, The Myth of Human Supremacy and the DGR book for being culture challenging works that are accessible to mainstream audiences. I value Jensen because when I have emailed him or Facebook messaged him over the past 4 years he has responded kindly, supportively and as a friend. And as much as I have many profound disagreements with the guy, have very different aesthetics on a number of aspects of what anti-civ means and/or looks like, and have found myself feeling disappointed in him often, I have a great deal of love and respect for this man who unrelentingly fights for what he loves. 

But anyway. 

There are many personal reasons why Jensen would write a book on anarchism. What political ones would he have? 

The only political one I can see is to try to steer people away from anarchist projects and towards DGR and other Marxist-type projects. This seems to me to be, at the very least, a dick move (phrasing intended). To borrow from the late-great Daniel Quinn, what we are fighting is the notion that underlies totalitarian agriculture/civilisation/this culture/the Leviathan/whatever (and ALL that that entails), and embracing that there is not 1 right way to live, to fight, or to do radical praxis. 

What fucking pisses me off about radical projects is mostly how much time we spend fucking up each other’s projects, rather than engaging in our own. 

But anyway. 

Jensen appears to make the mistake most “anarchists” make, which is believing that anarchy has anything to do with anarchism, socialism or capitalism. Anarchy is an entire world apart from that vision of socio-normative machinery. Anarchy is wildlife/wild-Being/Wild Nature/whatever term you like; it is the living flow of creative-destructive energies that civilisation try’s to halt, usurp and control. Anarchy is most of what Jensen loves and fights for, when he’s not trying to halt, usurp and control it. 

Jensen is right in that anarchists of anarchism warrant critical analysis, but judging by the introduction section we’ve been provided, this is not what he’s done – it appears that he’s appealed to the moral sentiments of social-anarchists who share much of his Marxian mode of approach already. It appears that Jensen wants anarchist praxis to be about controlling things in-a-certain-way in the way that anarchism is mostly about – as ideology is always about. It is the same logic of civilisation. It is an attempt to remove the need to fight and dance and take joy in the activity of living – you don’t need to embrace Life if it’s under control by machinery for you. 

But anyway. 

Read this book or don’t read this book. Love Jensen or hate him. It’d be cool if we could critique and challenge without the need to try and stop or control other radical projects – support them for what is valuable in them even. 

p.s. I’m expecting a great deal of the book to be straw man arguments, but we’ll see.

Man Alone in a Mass Grave

My latest piece on Gods and Radicals

GODS & RADICALS

‘Where we are now is a state of ruin. Ruins typify the geography of the world. And ruin is the apparent destination of History, God’s story for “Man”, as “Man” plunges into the Future’s abyss.”

From Julian Langer

creation-of-man-1159966_1920

“And I saw the wild beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered together to wage war against the one seated on the horse and against his army. And the wild beast was caught, and along with it the false prophet that performed in front of it the signs with which he misled those who received the mark of the wild beast and those who worship its image. While still alive, they both were hurled into the fiery lake that burns with sulfur.”

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any…

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Having Tired Eyes

I have tired eyes. I’m just strange all over. I’m a big kid really. I’m one of a kind. I have tired eyes. 

I’ve been told all of these statements over the last 24 hours. 

There is no real point to what I’m writing here in this post. I’ve been awake since 3:30am and it’s 14:30pm now. I’m not writing this for anyone other than myself. 

I have tired eyes.

People tend to only care about what someone is and not who they are. 

And, to borrow and expand upon Emma Goldman, if I can’t dance, laugh, sing, feast, cry, fight, love or run naked, it’s not my revolution, insurrection or involutionary collapse. 

I have tired eyes. I’m a big kid. I’m strange. I’m one of a kind. I have tired eyes. 

Thoughts on Weird Space

As I am sat here looking at the screen of my computer I’m listening to the grunge/psychedelic band Allusondrugs. I’m sat feeling the intense February cold-snap these islands in the North Sea are undergoing. It is bizarre that not that long ago it was unseasonably warm here – weeks ago. I mean, we have had daffodils growing already and I wore a t-shirt the other day. In my weird desires, against the suggestion of my wife, I’m sat bare foot, because, in many ways, I want to feel this cold and socks feel like hiding. This cold reminds me that the climate is going to be weird for a while now, and while it is going to be weird for reasons that might be totally fucked up – ecocide, Too-Late Capitalism, socialism, techno-expansionism, fossil-fuel-agricults and that 10,000 year fucked up known as civilisation – the weirdness is sort-of ok. It is ok because this weirdness is entirely the space that moves fluidly between the body parts of the Leviathan that is fucking everything up, flowing down into its body, not as nourishment, but like a living entity that is both venomous and poisonous. It is a weird relationship to be caught in a sort of eroticism, with both partners killing each other in the process. And in a totally fucked up way, that weird relationship, right now, is ok, for now. Now I’m listening to the grunge/psychedelic band Love Battery. This is my first experience of listening to their music and I’m enjoying it. I find myself craving aesthetics that seek to mirror weirdness. Earlier this week I was sat in a cafe after what was probably the worst 16 hour day I’ve ever had at work – one which involved a lot of violence – trying to decide what to eat, while I was attempting to self-care. I found myself after a few minutes of looking at the menu aware that I didn’t actually feel like eating and that what I really wanted to do was paint. So I bought some cheap paints and brush, some cheap canvases, sat on a bench in a relatively secluded part of town and started painting. A couple of kids who looked the dictionary definition of liberal-hipster-kid cliche stopped and told me that what I was doing was “nice” and that they totally got what I was doing. This amused me, as, for the most part, I rarely totally get what I’m doing. But, whatever – it is nice to be acknowledged in any way. I have an online hater who I delight in their impassioned acknowledgement of me and my stuff; and it is a constant source of amusement to see them attempt to bash me by doing the “I’m an internet badass” thing. Thinking about love and hate brings me back to that erotic weirdness I mentioned earlier. But I digress. Back to painting. I was painting for reasons that escaped me and any meaning within what I was making was beyond me. I’ve recently taken to doing automatic drawing as a means of play when I feel the urge to do so. These paintings felt part of that psychic energy that is flowing in me. It is a weird space for me. And I find myself, through my somewhat-nomadic work life and my psychic-nomadic relationship to society and psychological state, full of weirdness often. This weirdness is what the mysticism I have been writing about recently, both on this blog and in a book writing project that I feel is near completion, is, in many ways (though not all), about. I have too many projects on the go, but I follow my desires. I’ve written a one scene one act play about the awkward space created through the distancing underway between ourselves and the Death that we are caught in, as we find our-selves located within the Leviathan that is fucking everything up. I’m still listening to Love Battery. My wife just commented on the cold, which I responded to in agreement and then kissed her hands. I have songs I want to record, including one I wrote about a friend who died back in January and I sang at her funeral. My life is weird right now. It is weird largely because, as I find myself confronted by the Reality of built-space that is this social ontology, I find myself compelled to dance and play and sing and fight weirdly – this might well be my personal “definition” (though a very indefinite one) of ontological anarchism. I just looked out of the window to see lambs and their mothers being moved from one field to another. That is another weirdness for me to deal with – I write about anti-civ stuff all the time, am fiercely anti-agricult(ure) and live in an area of the islands known as Briton to the ancients that is spatially dominated largely by farms. What isn’t dominated by farms is dominated by roads, which I drive on most days, using fossil fuels, where I often see the carcasses of foxes, badgers, pheasants and other animals I have a weird love for. I love them because I am becoming-feral, because I am becoming-animal, because I am in the weird space of having a furious desire for Life and am confronted daily by Death. Maybe if my life had been different I’d be different; if my mother hadn’t have died; if my father hadn’t been a drug addict; if my mothers parents hadn’t psychologically abused me; if I wasn’t bullied and abused in school; if I hadn’t had the brain tumour; maybe then I’d be different – of course I would be. I just went for a walk. My wife suggested we go out, saying that the walk would do us good. We enjoyed the flowers growing in the hedges and the bird song. It was beautiful. It interrupted this train of thought, while maintaining it. I’m gonna stop writing this now, as I’ve got stuff to do and want to read weird books later today. I’m not sure if I’ll write again later, or draw, or play guitar or piano. I will probably think some more today about the thoughts that I often return to. I’m in a weird space and in a weird way that is sort-of ok.

On My Interest In Hindu Myths 

Spirituality holds a strange place in my psychic world. 

I studied religions and spiritual practices throughout my teens, adopting some and discarding them, as they failed to provide me the complete truth I was searching for. 

The one that stuck longest was Buddhism. But following my experiences during cancer treatment, it’s beliefs around non-attachment and the notion Being resides elsewhere, to be found in ritual, became to mean Life renunciation – philosophical suicide, in absurdist terms. And as I found myself having to confront what it means to be alive, I found myself turning away from this practice, as all my drives and desires are directed towards Life. 

After this I explored Hindu practices, for a short period. My interest in Hindu myths is one that started in my early teens and lasts today. The deities and stories are ones I’ve repeatedly come back to. But apart from that short period of exploring the religions practices, I’ve only ever had a surface level interest. 

In my book Feral Consciousness I critiqued symbolic culture, as religious-type dogma and psychic-mediation, but argued that we cannot deny that, through socialisation, it has become a part of our psychic-culture, which, for now, we’re stuck with. From this, I stated a case for the embrace of aesthetics as a means of going beyond our symbolic culture. 

The mystical ineffable that escapes symbolic culture has been the focus of my interest throughout all of this, as something primal and wild. 

And, while I remain sceptical of spirituality and religion (in the same way that I am sceptical of scientism and the spectacle of hyper-realist mass-media culture), I continue to find Hinduism interesting (in the same way that palaeontology and quantum mechanics interests me); in particular the Aghori and non-theistic Shaivism. 

This interest has been rekindled by recent online egoist content attempting to synthesise egoism with Hinduism and Buddhism, like this-   

Radical monism plays a major part of my recent explorations. 

For now, I don’t have a conclusion for this – but, saying that, conclusions are an ontological fallacy in-themselves. 

I’m just going to see where this takes me. If delving deeper into this world that I’ve previously only dipped into provides me anything Life enriching and beautiful, then great. If not, great too (more fuel for the fire). 

  
Art credit- Arman Gasparyan

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