THE END OF THE UNIVERSE, OR, THE VIBE SHIFT (LANGUAGE BELONGS TO NOBODY)
Grundstimming is a ‘whole vibe’.
I find it exciting to think that anything and everything I write could easily be written by anyone or anything to come. A question of demographics. Once—or if—the world population reaches a trillion, anything I think-to-write will be sourced before I arrive. Perhaps this think-to-write is already enough in that case, and remains a matter of Cues and Relays. Such is our artificial intelligence, as advanced as it ever can be. Finnegans Wake points to this as does the Internet as a whole. There was of course no need to read either of them after all. Which is what we (will) read. We literally say, ‘it reads itself’.
We are connecting the Pure Vibe as an event in reading and as a shift that may be more than phasic with the immense problem of contemporary time. To do so we will develop and make use of the think-to-write as apparatus for reading prompts. The think-to-write allows us to take time into account and to develop cues, that is to say, reading cues. Sometimes a reading will be developed at length; at other moments, we will accelerate through a reading in a single phrase or language-patch.
There are basically two cues to begin with which make of the Vibe Shift an absolute temporality; a temporality that ends, and ends absolutely, and yet which changes (itself) at the point of doing so. The two cues are:
1. Hannah Emerson: who says that we must listen to the voice of the end of the universe1 and help the universe become our world. This is the think-to-write for our end of the universe and its design-plan time(s).2
2. François Laruelle: who says the same as Emmerson, but from the other side. For him, we are on the way from Earth to Universe; we are clones-in-transit.
The discovery of the vibe shift under the sign of what is also Covidian temporality is the discovery of what it means to be clones-in-transit. Such clones are, by definition, anonypilled. Everything we do is coloured by this end-of-universe and universe-becomes-world anonymity, whether we do so under a proper name or not. Ontico anonymity is not needed so that pure and absolute anonymity may surge, but it may be charged up and switched on (quirked, quirked up, chopped, meeped, meeped up, etcetera).
The clone-in-transit—from World to Universe, and Universe to Earth—naturally depends on the think-to-write because of the curve being introduced on and in time’s surface. To be chronologically meeped up is to be ill with want. This is what makes ‘the Covidian’, as a design gesture and Vibe Shift, crucial.
Now, we are also connecting this to a feeling. It is the feeling of not being able to sleep since the Phasic repertoire (a new grace and a new gravity) dropped its goods, its curses, its blessings, its tremolos. At a stretch, we stay up simply because Time is itself changing. (This is the Stimmung shift. Or rather, super vibe shift: Grundstimming. The whole vibe vibes itself and shifts through itself, like an angelic body grazing itself backwards and forwards at once.)
This change to Time itself may seem impossible, but is not. Malabou’s Heidegger book concerns just this change. Being itself, she says, may change. Gestell (which we will simply translate as the Internet) may change. (Being itself, in effect, may be seen for the first time.)
As we contemplate the feel-to-think of Absolute Time, we see there is none at all (time) in the foreground, combined with deep time still on the archive of plunging horizons. Time extends out to the sextillion, and yet foreshortens to a single second under pressure from the realisation that this really may be it (the eschaton is itself quirked, chopped, meeped, etcetera).
Suddenly, We Are Living Millennia
Perhaps in the year 2327?—Ponderings XII–XV: Black Notebooks 1939–1941
Let’s take another reading cue. Venkatesh Rao’s essays on long-term temporality—including ‘MJD 59,128’, which was written under Covid—read as direct impact accounts of what we mean by Covidian temporality.
Recalling the early lost-and-found Paradise of the 2020 inception, Rao writes that the world ‘just got bigger in space, but smaller in time’. We might also say the inverse, that the world just got smaller in space, and bigger in time. Mobilising musical chairs as analogy, we are dealing with an increasing number of chairs, and yet a repeated sense of the music constantly stopping (already).
But at the moment where this transformation and pinching of time kicks in, we also sense a stretching. The anonymous clone-in-transit notes that a certain Absolute Knowledge is given its payload, but that this does not oversaturate the horizon of transformability but instead stretches it to infinity. Rao writes:
Equally, the future 100 or 670 years out suddenly feels a lot more real. I now feel a lot closer to 2120, when Covid will merely be yet another endemic seasonal sniffle, and climate change impacts will be peaking. And to 2690, when the climate wars will likely have settled as a distant memory of a war won (or at least nobly or ignobly fought and survived by a few).
The pitching forward under Covid is into the felt sense of infinite impermanence. Death replaces itself with extinction, and extinction with its own itera (1066, 2016, 2020, 2021, 2030, 2300, 2690). In time, these itera take on singular resonances, such as the phase-space that takes us all the way to Pure Vibe as auratic revelation.
We are saying as clones-in-transit that end of time timing out is also stretched time, stretched into suddenly being aware that it is 2690 or rather 2300. The point is to recall Covidian inceptuality as opening to something like the design space of extinction (extinction can change, even if too late, right at the end). Insofar as Extinction is suddenly itemised on the near-side internal horizon, it also becomes manipulable. Even see-through (see the layering work of paul (from bible) x angelicism01).
The clones-in-transit are also the victorious ones of a formalizable Dzogchen practise, again whether they ontically are or not. In the practise of the Five Lights, colour itself is shone through. There are things more colourful than colour, as it were.
In the same way, Extinction as rational itera is outshone as lower-dimensional data. I conceive myself in 2300 and 2690, and then eidetically vary myself back into a present where Extinction already lasts. Is not vagueness in the higher-dimensions a release from the concept ‘Extinction’ taken to be apophenia as such?
The tie here is between eschaton and itera. The internet is gone, I will carry you. The universe is gone, I will meep you. The phase-space itself is threatened, I cant. The #Icants themselves are a way of seeing-through. Let us take as the next reading cue one of angelicism’s unpublished texts, which is to say language which belongs to everyone, since that is how ‘angelicism as writing’ is signed from now on:
When you see through me seeing through you will we know what to do? Let me know when you’ve seen all the way through our seeing-through. We tried hard to remember what didn’t happen, hanging out in the pure you and I. Earth is an angel, and as to the many worlds, ong˄! Can you love colourfully? Can you see through all that quirked up love and give it away? Let’s take care of loved up letters and give it all away. Do you really want the great great beautiful mess we’re in? We will make a generic angelic sculpture? Will you stop and make a mess with me in a pure land? Will you see me through? How will I know we have done enough to see through us? Let me know when you’ve seen through me too. Let’s take care of our quirked up messy shit seeing all the way through. The extinct are waving to us. The extinct are waving and drowning. The extinct are back in the pure land with us, are we gonna lose all the fucking world we have because we can’t see through in time? We return through our vanishing, all up in all the quirked up all alloverdose. The extinct are warming to us, by absolute prayer warning shudder surrender by absolute slender prayer’s morning, the estuarine, ecstatic, slitwrist, shawty.
Itera enters into the absolute end, repeating it in the fact and thereby quirking it. The time signature of such an end just is quirked because it gets repeated in the space of a meanwhile that can even be called beautiful, a beautiful meanwhilism. In turning to repetition right inside and on the end, the end itself is quirked, which is to say as if changed. This would be a way of saying the more than impossible takes place, and that the ‘I’ is becoming more and more impossible.
THE UNIVERSAL ANGELICIST SYNTAX NOW AVAILABLE
Meep. To meep is the meaning of me.
Intelligence has its only meaning in me (meep). Nonreading, nonwriting, absolute time.
Meep. To meep is the meaning of changing itera, and changing the end of time.
Absolutely everything comes to those who wait forever at the end of time.
I want therefore to be less and less known till I am only just visible, I think that would be beautiful, ok ok? Extinction changes. Extinction is in exchange. Extinction itself is changing. This is what the change machines are saying. This is what it means to go all the way with change, with the terror of the matheme as a machine to admit the speaking universe. But what’s being ex-changed? You told me that another name for extinction is resurrection. Get in loser I will meep with you at the end of time. You only live once so shut the fuck up. The itera will be our kiss, the kiss of no eyes at no meeping time whatsoever. Our posting makes people want to die and that is how it should be. Our posting wants everyone to stay alive forever and that is how it is. We believe in the responsibility of posters of recent years for the disasters of our time. It’s exactly like there really was no point in posting anything at all. What keeps me up and sends me to sleep is the feeling that we are all saying things to each other, each day more blurrily and incredibly, at the end of time.
The voice of the friend is the voice of the (an) end of the (an) universe.
The end of the universe is a probability question that can be arranged through a ready-made grammar. For example we can also write an end of an universe, and you could say that changes the whole universe with ease. The clonal point at which anthropic-time-finality coincides with entropic slant is the point at which grammar becomes not only cosmologically prophetic but granular: the end is an end, or ends, and the universe is an universe, or universes. Is this it? Is this are? Is are are or it? You see what I mean. And so on. Etcetera.