The horror!
This phrase fascinates me. It has for a long time now. Its record scratches back to the beginning every so often in my head when observing some things.
The horror!-- capitalism is unrelenting.
The horror!-- the light speaks to you.
The horror!-- you are melting into nothing.
The horror!-- you are nothing human.
I think it would be handy to distinguish between noise and (what I believe deserves the title of) art. Noise is plain. Noise is ever-present. Noise is what you most consume. A taste of escape, pollinating the mushrooms growing in your brain as you carry them back to the system of consciousness you call “reality”. And the pollen spreads- to your friend and his friend and his mother and her sister and her husband and his friend… etc. Noise, ultimately, is contradictory in that sense. Although it provides “escape”, it morphs reality to its whims.
Art is horror. It elicits my favorite phrase: the horror! Your weak eyes have finished the feast in the trough and look up to see the butcher cut your head, skull, brain, into delectable consumer product-- the horror! Thus is art; the cleaver. It has no sense for welding capital into intricate reality-constructions. It cuts and cuts and cuts and cuts. Unrelenting. Horrible.
Reactionary escapism is nothing but noise. Post-ego tyrannization by paleo-corporatocratic agents. Ego cancels within noise consumption and production, carving the neo-class divides.
We see faces where there are none, in the light! We hear voices from the artificial diaphragms dancing so violently as to pierce our ears. We taste plastic and feel the sensation of inquentiable hunger satisfied upon our tongues. Have we all gone schizophrenic? If not, then I assure you, that you are a ghost.
Everything crashes into the youngling’s skull, unleashing the new organism as nothing but a gelatinous amoeba of grey matter.
The Lemurian was right.
He chained me to the horror.
New aesthetic; dissonant harmony.
Insemination of ego, and, in the most natural of instances, crafting a brand new thing.