On April 21st or last year, 2019, I began this blog.
"Why" is a not often a question that 'really' gets at motivation. What better serves this function is "what." "Why's" are the stuff of the courtroom, and the cubicle, of voice, and of law. "What" is the stuff of materialism, of the impersonal vector.
As seen in the previous sentence, Why's (as opposed to 'Why' or 'the why') are in part by their nature multiple in a way that condones univocal impotence. Many interchangeable whys may be invoked to explain an action, but the fact that many may be invoked implies that the outcome and the why are already-always disconnected. If the why could be A, B, C, D, E..., without cost, nothing to gain or lose based on which why is chosen, then there is no explanatory power. This makes why simply noise. Whether or not a dispute over shrubbery was 'why' he murdered his neighbor changes not the murder, only the legal sentence. Meanwhile, what - not 'the whats' as in 'whys' - is the stuff of the real world. Whether or not X was 'why' he killed his neighbor, what he used to do it was a .357.
This blog has tried to be all about 'whats' as seen in my constant attempt to integrate psychoanalysis and hypermaterialism of accelerationism/CCRU.
In this sense, what possessed me to make this blog? A demon?
I had things to say that could not be said elsewhere. Journals would not accept my work - some of it because I needed to improve on a technical register, i.e., grammar, tense, syntax, proof reading, etc., some of it because they disagreed with the form, i.e., cussing, slang, playing too fast and loose, and some of it because they disagreed with the content, i.e., it did not fit with any established school or discipline (not psychoanalytic enough for the psych journals, not social critique enough for the... etc. etc.). - and because Journals would not accept my work, I had accumulated a back log of essays, along with a collection of fragments I wanted to expand into essays, that had no home, essays and to-be texts I felt compelled to share with someone - anyone - who would take the time.
Its not so much that I believed I had anything of importance to say, but rather that I was sitting on somethings that I couldn't let remain unsaid any longer. They were eating at me. I felt filled to the brim with ideas, things I needed to expel. As Nietzsche's Zarathustra experiences - "Behold! This overflowing cup must now empty itself: Zarathustra will once again become a man"
There is a difference here between containing that which cannot go unsaid and that which one finds is important and must be said. The former presumptuously assumes a level of individualist authority and an 'other,' while the latter assumes a void.
In this sense, this blog has tried to emulated to voids scissor-fucking; it's tried to imagine the bare ontological minimum subjectivity that would be required to 'reflect' on this cosmorgasm.
The depressive laments at the thought of speaking into a void. On the analyst's couch, they wonder if it is not simply the case that the analyst sleeps, or reads. On the phone, they wonder if there really is anyone on the other end. The true Nietzschean's among us know it is only when no one is listening - or when we think no one is listening - that anything worthwhile is said. Words that do not persuade minds, but ripple the cosmos.This comes with presumptions of its own, but they are at least ones that lean towards the inhuman.
But this is all some vague rubbish, isn't it.
Over writing the past year I have learned a great deal. My posts have not tripled in views, but accelerated in their rate of gathering views. Whereas I used to get 80 views over months, I get 100 views over 8 hours. I've improved my technical writing skill and my style, and expanded into different areas of though I had not previously adventured through. In this sense, the 'what' of my blog is 'process' or 'working through' as Freud would put it. I don't agree with everything I've said, and I am not sure any of it needed to be said, but the fact that it has been said and that perhaps someone may have made sense of it in a way that made them enjoy a new thought or feeling makes me feel good.
My blog is a 'what' to you, dear reader. What made him say such a thing? What made him this or that. Perhaps my blog. Perhaps not.
My blog is just another hit of junk in the info-junk stream.
And I think you for taking some of it in.
