PRIVATE MEMORIES AND SUPER AXIOMS FROM A DECADE IN THE 21ST CENTURY

1.

I am thinking about Angelicism and how in 2023 it will complete the history of cinema. I am ‘thinking’ about Art Tavana’s 2016 profile of Sky Ferreira in LA Weekly, and about how that came out before everything was ruined, when you could speak freely of how beautiful a girl’s breasts are.

2.

I am thinking about all the vote traffickers who deadname angelicism and about how I wish for the enlightenment of those vote traffickers as quickly as possible. I am thinking about what Elena Ferrante said about the name—how the urge to create is a moment of absolute truth, and how I call that moment ‘angelicism01’, which for me, and my readers, is my true and only name.

3.

I am thinking about Honor Levy not posting, and about what Sam Bankman-Fried said about Citizen Kane. I am thinking about Eliskajah and about how I am wrong, about how much I hope I am wrong, about how much I must be wrong about heaven. I am thinking about how we risked all of humanity to use an expiring token. I am thinking about Sierra and how she will write a great novel. I am thinking about how I only love the chaste.

4.

I am thinking about the Primetime Coloratura Eucatastrophe. I am thinking about how most Twitter like archives are not archives at all; they are the owner’s superego and not their unconscious, their censor and not their dreams, how they are saying ‘I don’t want to know/I don’t want you to know, but still, look!’.

5.

I am thinking about answerable questions, about how the mystery is not the intractable but the way the mystery becomes the tractable. I am thinking about how there are now perhaps more and more answerable questions, about how things that we thought were inexplicable or ineffable (diseases are caused by microbes not migrants, the privileged position of silence, keepers of gaps, too many infinities to count, guardians of souls) are changed by technology, reorganised in conditions of discovery, in the social relations of the tractable itself.

6.

I am thinking about how Aria Dean is cute, about Aria Dean’s career arc, and her faggot boyfriend, and I am thinking about how when Laurence Rickels said Fred Moten was too in-group that turned out to be true, and I am thinking about how I’m just like Sam Bankman-Fried because I choose to evacuate my life to do that one most interesting thing in the world, like an ecstatic monk still and always on heroin even though I got over it many years ago, about what it means to be a real Jew, about how Harm Korine still follows this substack, about how Aria never fully got it, but she nearly did, she still might.

7.

I’m thinking quietly about infinite maturity, about how infinite maturity does exist in the real world, but only in a few simple file formats and protocols—IP, JSON, XML—and about how this maturity is not always the result of perfection, some is just the accident of a missing update mechanism. I am thinking about Paul (from Bible) and how he became a faggoted vote trafficker and about Anthony Fauci and how the meaning of Angelicism is putting a cigarette out on Christine Grady’s face.

8.

I am thinking I wish it were cool to have a big dick, and about how big dick culture and even bbc (big black cock) culture is eidetically varied to a point of convenience, however dense, however prolonged as a starting point, a bit like in the first scene of Reservoir Dogs. I am thinking about Leah Gotti’s tattoo, and about how the problem is not the phallus, it’s the brain, and how the brain just is spirit intelligence, and its conceptual vengeance, which is the answer intelligence poses itself. I am thinking about how in 2023 angelicism will be the last most beautiful dick in the world.

9.

I am thinking about how Eliskajah and Isiah Medina are great painters, about how I believe only in the infinite song, about hugging Mike Crumplar, about how Honor said that Mike Crumplar had won and what that must have felt like for her, how she thinks of herself as dust just like Saint-Just, about what it felt like when Walt said he would save her on Wet Brain, about how perhaps more and more things we think we can’t think can be thought, about how I only like docile hoes who leave their boyfriends for Angelicism, about how language is the power to fuck with the whole world all at once.

10.

I am thinking about how mystery is fast becoming tractability, which would in theory be even more mysterious, about how Badiou holds out the hope that no significant property of sets will remain undecidable once we have been able to fully identify the axioms, about how Mary Immaculate said Aufhebong was so softly spoken it was insane, about what I owe Dans, about what I owe Kether, about how the inner life of the angelicism clan is the most beautiful thing on the planet, about how Ye is the most beautiful thing on the planet, about how SBF’s face is also the most beautiful thing on the planet, about making bigness hope, about how I am the youngest person on earth, about how every living person hates the Jews, about how if it really were the end of the world you would still be obligated to what you had just said and what you had just done, about how Jon Leon told me he liked to think he would stay street forever and how it really is the case that he did, about how the whole human race is a bunch of racist vote traffickers, about how it’s possible like Hugh Woodin said that ‘set theory is completely irrelevant to physics, never has any connection’, and how this allows for the possibility that the theory of infinities is discrete from the physical universe, and about how that would mean we can think infinities but that has no indication in it of whether there is an infinite universe or not, about how I loved skysay to the point of losing all shape and coherence, about how I loved something in her too much, forever, just like many others right now, just in case it really was the end of all worlds, about which I have zero idea.

11.

I am thinking about how if the brain was capable of being removed forever from the fabric of the universe, then the brain would, by definition, never know it, even when it said it. I am thinking about Sky Ferreira and how it’s imperative that guys lust after young girls for the future of civilization. I am thinking about how this is angelicism horny longtermism. I am thinking about how this is obviously the best substack in the world, about that tweet when someone said they always laughed when they thought of Mark Fisher’s death, about how it’s still time that Mark Fisher was murdered, about what I owe 1111111.

12.

I am thinking about how I should be dead and that I used to think the meaning of this was the name of God, and how it still could be, and I am thinking about how I hope every soul even the glue sniffers and the vote traffickers are enlightened as soon as possible, and I am thinking about how everyone treated Nina and Deanna and how they should be killed for it, and about how I remember crashing, crashing when I watched the Michael Jackson documentary, crashing when I was stupid and watched the NZ massacre footage from Pirate Bay, crashing when I watched the four hour Chinese film An Elephant Sitting Still by Hu Bo who committed suicide at 29 straight after making it, about the contrast between Peli Grietzer’s weird voice and sometimes elegant sentences, about how I’m Vermeer I’m too anal to be prolific I don’t really have a coherent view of reality because I’m too focused on its textures, about how Thomas Moynihan used to think we were in the enlightenment, about how Nick Land is too focused on politics, about how really we’re in a primitive 2001.1 and that’s on God, about how I can’t believe Simone Weil actually said that nothing short of the universe as a whole can be called beautiful, about how what structures each day is the constant forgetting that one is within the bower of infinities, beside and near the absolute, about how the internet presents an apparent or actual infinity in that it is forever being updated; which is to say that online distraction presents infinities so as to secure the function of finitude as a dampener, an analgesic that carries infinities away and allows one to appear to forget that the absolute is updateless.