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The Museum of Vestigial Desire


tags: ego-hassles insecurity published on:

I wake up in the morning and I am try to re-collect the previous night. I try to remember which state of dejection I was in. What was I chasing? Where was I? There are maps, of nightmares that I would like to navigate. For visions to be spelled out, connections illustrated. But the body is slow. Let it have the time, if that is what it wants. We are creatures of infinity anyway. I find it easier to be generous when I am writing. Magnanimous. Else, being the penny-counting savant is not difficult.

I learn the wrong lesson at the wrong time.

The truthfulness of the accountant was absorbed. The steeliness of the resolve to run a stable ship was observed. But to learn to be a gambler of repute is to learn to pay for it. Accepted, you have your obsessions, the same as me. Can you pay for them? Can I pay for mine? But that is not the point.

Egos are fragile. I can feel small on knowing that someone I know on another continent is doing well. I forget where I am. I have an out of body experience. I see a carefully constructed exterior and I fidget listlessly in my interior. Becoming an alien, zooming into space, is about refusing to analyse. Refusing to understand the codes. Being the fuck-up, the clown. Having nothing to lose is a statement of cool. A statement of ostentatious spiritual display. This is only possible if my accounting system differs fundamentally. But all accounting systems are the same - they try to be precise, accurate. Mapping the flow of the input and output.

I am still searching for an accounting system that doesn't exist. Which refuses its own existence.

So, insecurity is the only sign that we are still human. A voluntary belittling is not possible in the post-human condition. Rationality is algorithmic. Confidence is sticky. Biomatter is not. So all confidence is synthetic, letting the song go on for longer than the playtime. Being insecure is like being out of it. Out of element, out of body, out of the ability to think. And if in that zone the worry of patchwork, therapy and episode-mapping doesn't emerge. Genuine stuff can happen. Now, of course we won't go so far as to say what genuine stuff is. Who the fuck knows?

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