Shared Vertigo

S H A R E D V E R T I G O

You are here and so am I

Maybe millions of people go by

But they all dissapear from view

And I only have eyes for you

Flamingos

I killed my father

I ate human flesh

I quiver with joy

Pier Paolo Pasolini

It’s me. I soured1 myself. I spoke too soon

I spoke for you. I sought to impose my tempo.

I detuned my song from fear. I bittered.

I jealoused in the third wound. I was alone.

I wanted acceptance. I succumbed to fashion.

I repressed a history of sadness. I retracted.

I couldn’t come through. I became enwrapped

in nostalgia. I had only an illusory power.

How many of them: intellectual illusions”2 [Read more →]

2023: A Spor remembers ‘Reclaim the Streets’

outskirts of the city constantly expanding – areas spring up from fields – arrow-straight roads across a flat, sparsely burnt vestige of burnt codices – and ships to the rural areas, ordinary marine highlands – a shallow sea rolled on years ago – span of exited valley – broken image frames the years and centuries click by – wind whirling up the sand surging and undulating – householders manufacture the old traditions of the highlands to create workers in childhood days before the pleistocene granite – [Read more →]

Kiss me, cut me, hurt me, love me

He checked his reflection for splatters of red and pushed open the heavy door of the Crooked Billet. With a great sigh he heaved himself onto the only free stool at the bar, it had been a long hard day and he needed a strong drink.
Holding the drink up he mumbled to himself “The end”. He was not in the habit of toasting, but it was all finished, the man in the park had been the last; his debt finally repaid.
“Oi cunt!” Said a voice directly behind him. “Yes you, you shrivelled fucking plum face, that’s my seat. Jog on.” [Read more →]

Datacide Twelve – Introduction

 

 

The precursor to datacide is the magazine titled Alien Underground, which appeared with two issues in 1994/95. In the first issue of Alien Underground, there is a manifesto-like text signed “praxis nov. 1994” titled “Nothing Essential Happens in the Absence of Noise”. It describes “Techno” as a subversive agent that shook up cultural production, whether corporate or independent. “The industry then got the fear (…) because the principle of its organisation > the top to bottom one way transmission > got short circuited, & there was no transmitter or receiver, only a mixer & rooms full of people + noise. (…) a zone populated by savages seeking forbidden pleasures in a wasteland (…) uncontrollable and incomprehensible for teacher, cops, parents, the industry & media.” The backlash was not long to follow: “Formula were created & market research employed, documentaries were made, and laws drafted. It all needed to be brought back into the world of the spectacle, made safe for mass consumption; faces appeared, and like in a demonstration of power, talentless DJ’s were made superstars.” What we saw as raw and subversive was “streamlined for mass-brainwashing & pacification” in the form of “Nazi-Trance and Audio-Valium”. Still there was optimism: “But techno is always mutating, (…) always moving into different directions, & the time is now that transformations are under way that will lead to new places, eruptions, excess… In a situation where most of the supposedly underground parties are playing the same shit as everywhere else, where sponsorship deals + big money have moved in, a new resistance is emerging slowly>>>”.

This was also the moment when TechNET appeared. [Read more →]

HOW TO START WITH THE SUBJECT “Notes on Burroughs and ‘the combination of all forms of struggle’” (First part)

“KING.
Now, Hamlet, where’s Polonius ?

HAMLET.
At supper.

KING.
At supper ! Where ?

HAMLET.
Not where he eats, but where he’s eaten : a certain
convocation of politic worms are e’en at him.
Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat
all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
maggots : your fat king and your lean beggar is but
variable service, – two dishes, but to one table :
that’s the end.

KING.
Alas, alas !

HAMLET.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eaten of a
king, and eat the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING.
What dost thou mean by this ? [Read more →]

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