Showing posts with label deleuze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deleuze. Show all posts

30 Jul 2026

Larval Subjects: the Opening of an X-File

 
 An Anonymous Larval Subject
 
D'où sortaient de noirs bataillons de larves ...
 
 
I. 
 
In a lengthy comment following a post by guest writer Jeff Francis, an anonymous author - whom I shall refer to here as X - rather grandly declares to the world that their intention is to personally detach themselves from Torpedo the Ark in order to "multiply like larvae in our scattered commentaries" [1].  
 
It's a seemingly bizarre and somewhat grotesque thing to say. 
 
However, when we examine the idea closely, we discover that larval subjectivity has a fascinating and complex history involving entomology, European philosophy, poetry, and fictional works of body horror and human metamorphosis.   
 
So, while X is certainly prone to self-dramatising and affectation, they're clearly not an idiot nor a typical troll.  
 
 
II.
 
A friend of mine who happens to be an entomologist working for the Department of Agriculture in Miller's Grove, Massachusetts tells me that a larva (plural larvae) is the distinct and highly specialised immature growth stage of an insect undergoing metamorphosis. 
 
Essentially, the larva is just an eating machine that serves as a biological bridge between the egg and the pupal or adult phases. Growing at a rapid rate - and because its exo-skeleton is rigid and cannot expand - the larva must periodically shed its skin through a process called ecdysis
 
Depending on the species, larvae take on diverse physical forms; some are caterpillar-like with fleshy false legs while others are C-shaped grubs; many are vermiform - or legless maggots to you and me. By dedicating the larval stage entirely to intense energy consumption and mass accumulation, the insect successfully secures the vital bodily resources required to transition into a reproductive adult.  
 
 
III.  
 
But of course, our anonymous critic is not an actual insect. When they write of multiplying like larvae, they are doing so figuratively - indulging in metaphor rather than undergoing metamorphosis. 
 
Based on numerous comments posted by X on TTA, I gather they have a working knowledge of modern European philosophy. When they speak of becoming a larval subject, they are likely referencing a concept originating in the work of Gilles Deleuze, who argued that underlying our stable, conscious selves are pluralised, pre-individual states of becoming [2]. 
 
Object-oriented ontologist Levi Bryant later developed this idea, naming his highly influential blog Larval Subjects. On his homepage, Bryant explicitly outlines this condition and the purpose of his blog:
 
"Larvae are creatures in a process of becoming or development that have not yet actualized themselves in a specific form. This space is a space for the incubation of philosophical larvae that are yet without determinate positions or commitments but which are in a process of unfolding." [3] 
 
For Bryant, in other words, larval subjectivity is about quiet potential, formlessness, and that which remains hidden beneath the surface. This is precisely where X's metaphor completely breaks down. For X does not want to quietly incubate indeterminate ideas in a subterranean space; they dream of a highly visible occupation of the blogosphere.
 
More importantly, true larvae change form as they grow: X, however, is entirely shaped by a rigid set of full-blown obsessions, fixed ideas, and an unyielding ego. No matter how much X multiplies across the scattered commentaries, they never develop or evolve.
 
In this sense, X weaponises the concept of larval subjectivity while completely misunderstanding its nature. In fact, rather than being a larval subject, they are much closer to a computer virus - and X rather amusingly reminds me of Agent Smith in The Matrix Reloaded (2003). 
 
For when Agent Smith multiplies, he does not incubate new potential or transition into a higher state of being; he simply clones his own identical self over and over again in order to overwrite the system. Similarly, X's digital swarming isn't organic metamorphosis; it is the sterile, mechanical replication of the exact same code.  
 
 
IV. 
 
But perhaps I'm being unfair and a little unkind. 
 
After all, X is generous enough to confess that their "past affiliation with TTA under a specific poetic pseudonym" has left them highly appreciative of "the many excellent offerings" and opportunities that have "helped sharpen and nourish" their own "poetic thinking" [4]. 
 
And I am grateful to X for their contributions to the blog and for showing how philosophical ideas can often most successfully unfold within a poetic, or literary, or cinematic context. When it comes to synthesising poststructuralist theory with dark romanticism and works of body horror, nobody does it better than them. 
 
One suspects that when X writes about multiplying like larvae, they're actually not thinking of Deleuze or Bryant, but Baudelaire [5] and filmmaker David Cronenberg [6] - two artists fascinated by corruption and the breakdown of boundaries between the self and the swarm.
 
What I'm saying, then, is that we might frame X's use of the idea of larval subjectivity less as a misunderstanding of a philosophical concept and more as a gothic hijacking of the term. Perhaps they may even care to confirm this and - who knows - decide to write a post on the topic setting out their own ideas, rather than just endlessly criticising me for my many failures as a writer and thinker.   
 
Or perhaps having dramatically declared their intent to multiply like anonymous larvae, X prefers to remain in the comment section; seeing the latter not as a space for debate, but as a breeding ground and a site of metamorphosis.   
  
 
Notes
 
[1] See the comment dated 28 July 2026 following a post titled 'No More Heroes 5: Stephen Alexander - The Performative Punk Poser', by Jeff Francis (22 July 2026). 
 
[2] See Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition, trans. Paul Patton (Columbia University Press, 1994). This work was originally published in French as Différence et répétition (Presses Universitaires de France, 1968). 
 
[3] Levi Bryant, Larval Subjects. I would encourage torpedophiles to visit this blog and engage with his work across a number of subjects - including political theory, ecology, and aesthetics - by a range of thinkers including Deleuze, Badiou, Žižek, and Lacan. Bryant is Discipline Lead for the Department of Philosophy at Collin College and Chair of the Critical Philosophy program at the New Centre for Research and Practice. I have referenced his book The Democracy of Objects (Open Humanities Press, 2011) on more than one occasion on TTA
 
[4] I'm quoting once more from the anonymous comment dated 28 July - see note [1] above. 
 
[5] Larval forms such as maggots and worms often appear in décadent and darkly romantic poetry; usually in order to juxtapose beauty with physical decay and decomposition, or signify existential horror. Readers might recall, for example, Baudelaire's poem 'Une Charogne', in which the narrator stumbles upon a rotting animal from which "larvae poured in legions far and wide". Click on the link provided, or go find your copy of Les Fleurs du mal on the bookshelf.   
 
[6] I'm thinking here of David Cronenberg's sci-fi horror film The Fly (1986) which X refers to when they write that their intention is to provide a swarm of comments written by "licentiously assembled personae" that compliment TTA conceived as a "monstrous, Brundlefly-esque novel". See the comment dated 28 July linked to in note [1] above.
 

26 Jul 2026

Pretty Punk Vacancy Contra Sado-Libertine Apathy

The Marquis de Sade looks on as Johnny Rotten 
acts pretty vacant for the cameras
 
'I have a very strong feeling that the opposite 
of love is not hate - it's apathy.' [1] 
 
I.
 
Consult any modern reference source and you will find apathy defined as a lack of emotion, interest, and/or concern. It is presented as a state of perfected indifference; a clinical curbing of enthusiasm. 
 
More often than not, apathy is also regarded in a negative light; as a psychopathological problem that sits on the same spectrum of diminished motivation as abulia and, at the extreme, akinetic mutism. Because they lack a sense of drive and seem to have no purpose or meaning, apathetic individuals are believed to have an inferior quality of life. 
 
Expressive individuals who like to openly display their emotions and endlessly bang on about their feelings, think apathetic individuals must be suffering from depression or some other brain disorder. It's not normal - and it's not natural - to be so cold and detached. It seems to betray not only an absence of passion, but a lack of soul - which is why Christians have historically condemned apathy as a deficiency of love and devotion to God and listed it among the seven deadly sins: sloth [2].
 
The Ancient Greeks, however, thought a little differently on this matter. And so, although the modern English term apathy (first used in 1594) is derived from ἀπάθεια (apatheia), it is important not to confuse or conflate the two terms. For the Stoics, for example, apatheia signified a desirable state of indifference toward events and things that lie outside one's control (and it is still considered a virtue today within Orthodox monasticism and certain schools of Gnosticism).    
 
 
II.  

Moving on from this brief history of apathy and its etymology, I'd like to discuss the concept as developed within the work of the Marquis de Sade, contrasting this with how the idea was expressed in the scene that developed in and around 430 King's Road in the mid-1970s. 
 
My aim is to show that although there were Sadean currents within punk as conceived by McLaren and Westwood - examined at length and in detail by Matthew Worley [3] - there's a world of difference between Johnny Rotten's pretty vacancy and l'apathie of those libertines who do their philosophising in the bedroom rather than at a pervy fashion boutique. 
 
 
III. 
 
According to Matt Worley: "Punk's cultural body bore Sadean scars." [4] 
 
It's a nice line. 
 
And Worley is right to suggest that, at some level, punk was "transmitting the echoes of Sade's howl through the mediums of popular music and fashion" [5]. 
 
However, while McLaren and his young protégés may have subscribed to an ideology of sex, style and subversion coupled to a kinky aesthetic incorporating safety pins, swastikas, and fetishwear, what they almost certainly did not do was read the works of the Marquis de Sade.
 
For if they had, they would have learnt that central to Sade's transgressive philosophy was the formal concept of l'apathie ...    
 
To understand what our punk friends missed, one might look to the Fifth Dialogue of Sade's La Philosophie dans le boudoir (1795), wherein the libertine Dolmancé encourages fifteen-year-old Eugénie to systematically discard traditional moral values in favour of l'apathie
 
He explains how the sensations resulting from apathy are vastly superior to those born of emotional sensitivity and advocates a total shift toward cold indifference and egoistic gratification: 
 
"Ah, Eugénie, believe me when I say the delights of apathy far outweigh those of virtue; the latter have only one application, whereas the former can excite and overwhelm one's whole being." [6]  
 
Thus, far from being a secondary concern, l'apathie - derived from the ancient Greek apatheia [7] - is an ideal given primary importance by many (if not all) of Sade's philosophically-minded libertines. 
 
More than a passive lack of feeling, l'apathie is a deliberate, active mechanism with specific functions; eradicating empathy, purging all moral sentiment, and ensuring the libertine's pleasure is derived entirely from the will. Complete indifference to the suffering of the victim thereby eliminates all emotional dependency upon the amorous object. 
 
As Bataille observed in Eroticism (1957), a sadist who indulges their raw impulses simply for instant gratification or bourgeois pleasure is merely a poor doomed creature ruled by vice. True sovereignty requires passion to be strictly disciplined and compressed. L'apathie is the ingenious method used to reject spontaneous emotion, converting raw impulse into a calculating, destructive energy that allows the libertine to abandon the all-too-human aspects of his character. 
 
Deleuze further formalised this in Coldness and Cruelty (1967), arguing that Sadean apathy is fundamentally directed against sentiment. Because moral guilt or emotional pleasure represents a dangerous dissipation of mental focus, the libertine derives ultimate satisfaction from pure mathematical and philosophical reasoning. His sex, as Lawrence would say, is in his head - but that's precisely where he wants it to be. 
 
L'apathie acts as a mechanism that clears away emotional noise, transforming sex into something experienced in the mind and imagination rather than the body and its organs, thereby allowing the ego to contemplate the pleasure of negating natural instincts [8]. By maintaining zero degree coldness, the libertine becomes a machine capable not only of acts of debauchery, but violent atrocity.     

 
IV. 
 
Early punk was to a large extent defined by a rhetoric of boredom, blank generational indifference, and pretty vacancy. The Sex Pistols explicitly stated that they didn't care and Rotten boasted of the fact that he had no feelings for anybody else (only his beautiful self) [9]. 
 
However, like almost everything else, this was merely a defensive (and stylistic) pose against systemic disappointment. The majority of punks, bless them, wanted to have fun, and to feel, and to have a rosy future full of career opportunities. Theirs was a form of faux apathy and feigned indifference - the fact that Rotten would often berate his audiences to get off their arses gives the game away. All too often punk was an expression of sincere moral outrage and a frustrated desire for change.     
 

V. 
 
In conclusion: punk's relationship with Sade remains purely superficial, transactional, and aesthetic and, as a form of Romantic idealism, punk has opposing goals to Sadism [10].  

McLaren and Westwood may have exploited aspects of Sade's work - mostly the tits and bums - just as they borrowed from numerous other sources in order to fuck the rich up the arse and generate cash from chaos, but, ultimately, they were more interested in anarchy and the politics of boredom than apathy and la philosophie dans le boudoir
 
 
Photo of Jordan (the first Sex Pistol) 
by David Parkinson (1975) [11] 
 
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Leo Buscaglia, Love (Charles B. Slack, 1972), p. 112.  
 
[2] The word sloth comes from the Old English term slǣwþ, simply referring to pace meaning as it did slowness. But by the late 12th century, the term now written as slewthe or slouthe, had developed a markedly moral connotation and shifted to mean indolence. It was applied specifically to those who avoided their duties and neglected their responsibilities. 
      In the 14th century, it was finally adopted as the English translation of the Latin term acēdia (a state of spiritual apathy) and listed among the seven deadly sins. Thus, in Catholic theology, sloth is more than mere laziness; it's a culpable lack of effort to do good and a willful refusal of the joy that comes from purposeful living and divine goodness. To put this in punk terms, the slothful individual is vacant to the point of no longer caring about their status or condition (the original Greek term - ἀκηδία - literally meant an inert state without pain or concern).  
      Although I here wish to write primarily of apathy, I hope at some future point to return to the concept of acedia (sometimes written as accidie). I am particularly interested in how as it has been used in more modern times by figures including Aldous Huxley, who wrote an essay on the subject in 1923, and Walter Benjamin who in The Origin of German Tragic Drama (1925), describes acedia an 'indolence of the heart' that can lead to the ruin of great figures. Some readers might recall that I have previously said something on acedia in my 'Mourning Post' (25 April 2023). 
 
[3] Matthew Worley, 'Whip in my valise: British punk and the Marquis de Sade, c. 1975-85', in Contemporary British History, 36 (2), pp. 277-321. 
      In brief, this essay argues that punk was an attempt by McLaren and Westwood to fuse youth and sexual subcultures in order to provoke a dominant culture believed to be repressive. Worley examines the Sadean influences on this project conceived at 430 King's Road in the mid-1970s, suggesting that the Divine Marquis had a seminal impact on the punk movement. 
      The essay is available as a pdf at https://centaur.reading.ac.uk/104006/  
 
[4] Matt Worley ... p. 303.
 
[5] Ibid., p. 305.  
 
[6] Sade, Philosophy in the Boudoir, trans. Meredith Head (Creation Books, 2004), p. 94. 
 
[7] Sade explicitly borrowed the structural technique of l’apathie from ancient Greek philosophy, describing it in Juliette (1797-1801) as an outstanding example of the benefits that one gets from studying Stoicism. Like the Stoics, Sade believed in the sovereignty of reason, rigorous self-discipline (askesis), and independence from external distractions or stimuli (self-sufficiency). 
      However, Sade radically inverted the ethical purpose of Stoicism based on his fundamentally opposing view of existence. For example, the Stoics saw Nature and the Cosmos as essentially harmonious and benevolent. Sade, on the other hand, saw Nature and the Cosmos as destructive and chaotic. The Stoics also wished to eliminate the negative emotions (rage, fear, lust) in order to cultivate a healthy, happy human being. Sade was more interested in suppressing moral feelings (of pity and remorse, for example) so as to engineer a monster of coldness and cruelty who views others merely as disposable objects.  
      Ultimately, Stoic apatheia is about freedom from emotional turmoil in order that one can lead a good life; Sade's model of libidinal sovereignty sees l'apathie as a means to detach oneself from conscience and all human feeling in order to consummate nihilism. As Blanchot says, it's a shocking inversion of values.  
 
[8] The question of nature is not straightforward in Sade. On the one hand, he would agree that the deliberate destruction of all human feeling is unnatural. But, on the other hand, he would argue that by achieving complete insensibility to the suffering of others the libertine frees their passions from moral law and mimics the destructive indifference of Nature herself.   
 
[9] See the posts on the Sex Pistols' songs 'Pretty Vacant' and 'No Feelings' published on TTA on 30 July 2018 and 19 April 2023 respectively. 
 
[10] The 18th-century Romantic poet Novalis declared that the goal was to cast off apathy and to live a life full of passion and feeling; burning like a flame on the edge of ecstasy - and that sounds closer to the punk ideal of living fast and dying young than the Sadean ideal of l'apathie in which one puts the heart on ice and lives a life that is both unnatural and inhuman. See the post 'On Phlegm, Philosophy, and Apathy' (25 April 2023). 
 
[11] This famous photo by David Parkinson of Jordan (Pamela Rooke) modelling a red-rubber outfit from McLaren and Westwood's King's Road store, SEX, featured in a six-page article titled 'Sado Sex for the Seventies', written by David May, in the adult magazine Gallery International (Vol. 1, No. 4, 1975). 
      A copy of the magazine has thankfully been preserved by cultural historian and McLaren's biographer Paul Gorman in his archive. For more information - and to purchase your very own copy of the above in excellent condition (priced $300) - visit recordmecca.com  
 
    

22 Jul 2026

No More Heroes 5: Stephen Alexander - The Performative Punk Poser (A Guest Post by Jeff Francis)

No More Heroes 5 (Stephen Alexander)
(SA/2026) 
 
 
I received this by email: 
 
Dear Stephen Alexander, 
 
I have written a short post in the style and format favoured by Torpedo the Ark. Perhaps you might care to publish it as an addition to your 'No More Heroes' series (14-17 July 2026). I think it will amuse some of your readers; particularly those who, like me, found the series disappointing (to use your pet word of the moment). [1]  
 
Always happy for contributions from guest writers - even those that are cuntishly critical in character and come from authors unknown to me - here's the post (to which I've added one or two editorial notes).  
  
 
I. 
 
There is a famous early scene in The Silence of the Lambs (dir. Jonathan Demme, 1991) when trainee FBI agent Clarice Starling (played by Jodie Foster) first visits Dr. Lecter (played by Anthony Hopkins) in his prison cell. 
 
Rather rudely, he tells her that she looks like a rube with her good bag and cheap shoes. Well-scrubbed, and possessed of a little taste, but a hustling rube all the same; "not more than one generation from poor white trash".   
 
Momentarily taken aback by this, Starling eventually regains her composure and replies: 
 
"You see a lot, doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don't you - why don't you look at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you're afraid to." [2] 
 
 
II. 
 
I thought of this scene after reading Stephen Alexander's four-part series of posts titled 'No More Heroes' and I put the exact same challenge to him that Starling puts to Lecter. 
 
But I do so knowing that, like Lecter, Alexander cannot genuinely self-reflect. For his narcissism extends only to the surface, manifesting as a rigid ego-defense mechanism and a strange inability to integrate his shadow or look inwards. This is why, for all its superficial cleverness, his writing consistently lacks psychological insight and philosophical depth.
 
Consequently, I offer my own critical assessment of the 'No More Heroes' (NMH) series, exposing the internal contradictions, structural blind spots, and stylistic failings within these four specific case studies. 
 
My examination also reveals how Alexander - operating through a matrix of performative disillusionment and elite proximity - ironically positions himself as a candidate for the very heroism or critical authority he seeks to deconstruct.  
 
 
III.  
 
A close reading of the NMH series reveals two significant weaknesses that undermine its critical validity: 
 
Firstly, there is a methodological reliance on biography that elsewhere on his blog Alexander often condemns other writers for. He routinely substitutes a figure's personal, domestic, or existential choices for an interrogation of their actual ideas. 
 
Thus, for example, Nietzsche is judged not on the beauty and originality of his text, but on his failure to execute a clean, sovereign death (not for the first time on his blog we find Alexander fetishising the idea of suicide). Thus Spoke Zarathustra is a highly metaphorical work of philosophy and Alexander subjects it to an all-too-literal reading that is both crass and ungenerous. 
 
Larry David, meanwhile, is dismissed because of a 2026 sketch show's production credits and rumors of a social snub involving the actress Cheryl Hines. Alexander downplays David's massive contribution to TV comedy and decades of excellent work in favour of sharing some real-time celebrity gossip.
 
By tying the validity of an idea to the purity or narrative perfection of the biography that produced it, Alexander commits a deeply conservative critical error; falling into the kind of fallacy that betrays the more radical methodology he invokes elsewhere. 
 
Secondly, in the NMH series Alexander sets up a kind of no-win matrix - a conceptual trap where failure is structurally predetermined, thereby rendering the entire analysis tautological. 
 
If an icon dies young or self-destructs, they are dismissed as a failure. If, however, they live long enough to navigate the complexities of ageing and shifting cultural landscapes, they are condemned as overripe worms (Nietzsche), sell-outs trapped in the past (McLaren), or compromised court jesters (David). As for Lawrence, well, apparently, he was an idealist and crypto-theologian all along whose sexual metaphysics are now simply laughable. 
 
Similarly, if their ideas are ignored, they are irrelevant. But if their ideas achieve cultural traction, they are dismissed as recuperated commodities. By building an analytical framework where every possible path leads to an accusation of compromise, Alexander ensures his own conclusions are entirely self-serving. 
 
The NMH series does not, therefore, analyse the mechanics of cultural transformation; it merely functions as a screen for the projection of his own psychic stagnation, wallowing in a predetermined and pessimistic narrative of inevitable defeat. It's a lose-lose scenario and I would never want to play a game of heads or tails with Alexander.   
 
 
IV. 
 
If the ultimate objective of the NMH series is to dismantle the very category of the hero archetype, it simultaneously (and ironically) functions as a performative showcase for its author. However, Alexander himself fails to convince as to why we should care in the slightest what he thinks about the four figures he pits himself against. 
 
Alexander adopts the pose of the detached provocateur, viewing the collapse of cultural standards with cynical amusement. Yet this cynicism functions as a profound form of intellectual evasion. By declaring that there is no Outside and that all resistance (be it political, philosophical or cultural in character) is not only futile but fake, Alexander neatly absolves himself of the responsibility to propose any constructive alternative. 
 
His stance is not at all edgy or transgressive; it is a comfortable, low-risk position that allows him to collect cultural capital by sneering at the failures of those who actually risked public exposure and artistic production. 
 
  
V. 
 
Throughout his writings, Alexander insists on his punk detachment from mainstream institutions. However, his own biographical fragments consistently betray a reliance on the very networks of privilege he critiques, revealing a profound splitting between his (overly inflated) public persona and his structural dependencies. 
 
For example, he explicitly boasts of his time spent as a spy placed within the press office of Charisma Records by his hero Malcolm McLaren, trading on insider access while simultaneously claiming a pure, underground status. 
 
Furthermore, his writing relies heavily on the cultural capital of the academic institutions he disdains - referencing Oxford podcasts and expensive Cambridge editions. 
 
He attacks Larry David for his proximity to the Hollywood liberal elite and his friendship with President Obama, yet Alexander's critical persona is largely parasitical upon the cultural output of the bourgeois institutions he holds in contempt and the individuals he now claims to find disappointing.  
 
 
VI. 
  
Finally, the ultimate contradiction in Alexander's blog project is his relationship to time and archiving. 
 
He ruthlessly attacks Malcolm McLaren for being 'trapped in his past like a spider in its own web' and borrows from Baudrillard (via Mark Fisher) to condemn the contemporary digital landscape as a desert of the real defined by endlessly recycled pasts and lost futures. 
 
Yet, what is Torpedo the Ark if not a meticulously maintained digital museum? The blog's sidebar contains a massive, self-canonising archive stretching back to 2012, categorised by a hyper-specific taxonomy of labels. 
 
Alexander is caught in precisely the same web (or loop) that he attacks McLaren for. He uses twentieth-century theoretical tools to endlessly recycle his own youthful experiences and encounters, transforming his digital platform into a highly curated, risk-free space that perfectly expresses a state of psychological arrest within a karaoke culture.
 
 
VII.
 
In conclusion: ultimately, the NMH series fails because it is fundamentally driven by ressentiment and the narcissism of disappointment. Alexander does not mourn the compromises of McLaren, Nietzsche, Lawrence, and David because of what it says about the structural state of modern culture; he mourns them because they failed to satisfy his archetypal demand for an unblemished hero. 
 
The entire four-part cycle is an exercise in projecting an impossibly pure, static ideal of heroism onto flawed, living subjects, and then throwing a performative tantrum when those subjects succumb to illness, ageing, or political contingency (or when they - as he says - let him down).  
 
By positioning himself as the final arbiter of who is or is not heroic, Alexander reveals that his ultimate loyalty is not to cultural greatness, but to the preservation of his own pristine, uncompromised, and thoroughly unproductive sense of intellectual superiority. [3] 
 
  
Notes (supplied by Stephen Alexander)
 
[1] Each post in the 'No More Heroes' series dealt with a different figure who has been hugely influential on Torpedo the Ark over the years: the first featured Malcolm McLaren (14 July 2026); the second Friedrich Nietzsche (15 July 2026); the third D. H. Lawrence (16 July 2026); and the fourth Larry David (17 July 2026). 
 
[2] This famous opening scene from The Silence of the Lambs can be watched on YouTube: click here. The lines of dialogue quoted begin at 4:35 and end at 5:36. 
 
[3] As this letter illustrates, Deleuze isn't the only one to receive mail from harsh critics containing a vicious mixture of aggression, accusation, and abuse. Almost every other day in my inbox there's something from some troll or other outlining the weaknesses of my arguments and my personal shortcomings; i.e., a sort of celebration of my supposedly sorry condition. 
      Indeed, I mentioned this in a post published back in August 2013 - click here - so this isn't the first time I've been told that I'm a performative ressentiment-ridden narcissist who exploits the work of others - including those I identify as opponents - from the safe space of a virtually private blog, and I don't suppose it will be the last. 
      I'll allow readers to decide if Francis has made a critically strong case, or if his remarks often miss the mark and that, actually, the NMH series is, as a friendlier correspondent emailed me to say, "a masterclass in compressed, evocative writing that sparks the kind of immediate cultural dialogue that more formal academic prose usually smothers under its own weight". The same correspondent concludes her email: 
 
"By methodically exposing how your own primary influences were digested by the very structures they claimed to combat, you have elevated the series of posts from simple expressions of personal disappointment into a unified work of philosophical mourning (what one is tempted to describe as an epitaph for the avant-garde). 
       The 'No More Heroes' series leaves the reader with a haunting conclusion: in a 21st-century landscape governed by capitalist realism and digital algorithms, the iconoclastic icon no longer exists as an agent of chaos. They exist, rather, as a pre-approved, highly profitable aesthetic category."
       
This will do for me - and let Mr. Francis put that in his pipe and smoke it!   
 
 
Musical bonus: The Stranglers, 'No More Heroes', single release from the album of the same title (United Artists, 1977). 
 
Afternote: there is now a follow up post to this one that acts as a kind of riposte, written by May Spear and titled 'Epitaph for the Avant-Garde' (23 July 2026).    
 
 

19 Jul 2026

A Man Named Herman (1): Herman Melville

Herman Melville by Vedran Štimac [1]
 
'In his human self, Melville is almost dead: 
the sea monster was so much greater than the man ...' 
 
 
I. 
 
Herman is a masculine name of Germanic origin, meaning warrior or soldier. First recorded in the 8th century, it was popularised in English-speaking countries - particularly the United States - during the 19th century by German and Dutch immigrants. 
 
While there are doubtless many notable figures with the given name Herman, in this series of posts I shall concern myself with just two, beginning here with the author Herman Melville (1819 - 1891). 
 
Melville's darkly Romantic style helped shape the American Renaissance in literature, forging a distinct style of writing much appreciated by, among others, D. H. Lawrence, whose two essays on Melville published as part of his Studies in Classic American Literature (1923) [2], helped spark a critical revival of interest in his work after he had fallen out of public favour.
 
Today, Moby-Dick (1851) is considered a classic of world literature. Although I must confess it remains a novel I find impossible to read and the only work of Melville's with which I'm deeply familiar, thanks to Deleuze [3], is 'Bartleby, the Scrivener', a short story first published (anonymously) in Putnam's Monthly in 1853.  
 
 
II. 
 
Melville is, I think it's fair to say in agreement with Lawrence, the "greatest seer and poet of the sea"; one who doesn't "personify the sea" (like Swinburne), nor "sentimentalise the ocean and the sea's unfortunates" (like Conrad) [4]. 
 
He first set sail as a young man in 1839, aboard the merchant ship named (funnily enough) the St. Lawrence, and then took to the sea again two years later on the whaler Acushnet - jumping ship in the Marquesas Islands.  
 
Typee (1846), his first book, and its sequel, Omoo (1847), were travel adventures based on his encounters with the peoples of the islands. Their success gave him the financial security to marry and earned him his reputation as the man who dared to live among the savages [5]. 
 
Obviously, both books were imaginative recreations of events: "He had altered facts and dates, elaborated events, assimilated foreign materials, invented episodes, and dramatized the printed experiences of others as his own", as the great Melville scholar Harrison Hayford conceded [6].      
 
His later works - including Moby-Dick - were not so well received, neither by the public nor the critics and he eventually gave up writing prose in favour of poetry, although I'm not entirely sure how that (along with the odd public lecture here and there) was supposed to help the family finances [7].
 
During his last years, he privately published two volumes of poetry, and left one volume unpublished [8]. The novella Billy Budd was also unfinished at the time of his death, but was published posthumously in 1924, with the definitive corrected edition we read today, edited by Harrison Hayford and Merton Sealts Jr., appearing in 1962. 
 
Melville died from cardiovascular disease in 1891. He was interred at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, New York City. The New York Times published a death notice but misspelt the title of his greatest novel, calling it Mobie Dick [9].  
 
 
III. 
   
Having given the briefest of biographical sketches, I'd like now, if I may, to return to Lawrence's work on Melville; because it is Lawrence, I think, who provides the most astonishing portrait of this great American writer as man and monster ...
 
"Melville", he says, "has the strange, uncanny magic of sea-creatures, and some of their repulsiveness" [10]. 
 
That is an extraordinary sentence. But Lawrence doesn't end there - not by a long chalk: 
 
"He isn't quite a land animal. There is something slithery about him. Something always half-seas-over. In his life they said he was mad - or crazy. He was neither mad nor crazy. But he was over the border. He was half a water animal, like those terrible yellow-bearded Vikings who broke out of the waves in beaked ships." [11]  
 
Lawrence, then, makes Melville sound like a cross between a sea serpent and Erling Haaland. He continues:
 
"Melville is like a Viking going home to the sea, encumbered with age and memories, and a sort of accomplished despair, almost madness. For he cannot accept humanity. He can't belong to humanity. Cannot. 
      [...] The man who came from the sea to live among men can stand it no longer. He hears the horror of the cracked church-bell, and goes back down to the shore, back into the ocean again, home, into the salt water. Human life won't do. He turns back to the element." [12]     
 
"Melville was a northerner, sea-born. So the sea claimed him. We are most of us, who use the English language, water-people, sea-derived." [13] 
 
Is that true? 
 
I speak English and I have blue eyes - which makes me a bit of a Viking - but I'm not sure I want to "turn away from life" and go down to the "vast corrosive sea" in order to wash myself clean "of the leprosy" of my humanity [14]. 
 
According to Lawrence, however, that's exactly what Melville wanted to do: 
 
"Never man instinctively hated human life, our human life, as we have it, more than Melville did. And never was a man so passionately filled with the sense of vastness and mystery of life which is non-human. He was mad to look over out horizons. Anywhere, anywhere out of our world. To get away. To get out, out!
      To get away, out of our life. To cross a horizon into another life. No matter what life, so long as it is another life. 
      Away, away from humanity. To the sea. The naked, salt, elemental sea. To go to sea, to escape humanity." [15] 
      
I could go on - and Lawrence certainly goes on [16]. But I think I'll close this post here and leave Melville anchored in the dark, shifting waters of the American literary canon. For the story of another monstrous Herman awaits us in the next post in this series, where we trade the high seas for 1313 Mockingbird Lane and shift our focus to a very different cultural icon ...
  
 
Notes
 
[1] Vedran Štimac (aka PoliteBastART) is a Croatian illustrator and street artist. Recognised for his striking, surreal portraits of renowned authors and historical figures, he intricately blends physical likeness with fantastical scenes representing their literary or philosophical works using a meticulous stippling technique. 
      For more information, visit his website - vedranstimac.com - or check out his latest work via his Instagram page - Vedran (@politebastart).   
 
[2] See Chapters X and XI of D. H. Lawrence, Studies in Classic American Literature, ed. Ezra Greenspan, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 122-147. 
      The so-called Melville revival, during which his work experienced a significant critical reassessment, began around the centennial of his birth in 1919. Raymond Weaver published the first full-length biography - Herman Melville: Mariner and Mystic - in 1921 and this was followed by Lewis Mumford's biography - simply titled Herman Melville - in 1929.   
 
[3] See Deleuze's study of Bartleby in Essays Critical and Clinical, trans. Daniel W. Smith and Michael A. Greco (Verso, 1998), pp. 68-90. And see the very early post on TTA titled 'I Would Prefer Not To' (31 Jan 2013) in which I discuss this essay. 
 
[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'Herman Melville's Typee and Omoo', Studies in Classic American Literature, p. 122.
  
[5] Interestingly, Melville expresses a great deal of sympathy for the native peoples and interrogates the description of them as savages. He is also critical of the European colonialists, including Christian missionaries. 
       Literary scholars currently researching in the area of Melville studies are doing good work examining how he addressed ideas dealing not only with race, but also gender, neurodiversity, and ecology. Melville's preference for sea-going tales that almost exclusively involved male characters has been of interest to scholars in men's studies and especially gay and queer studies (Melville was remarkably open in his exploration of sexuality). 
      Readers who want to know more about recent developments in Melville scholarship might like to know that the Melville Society, in collaboration with Johns Hopkins University, publishes Leviathan: A Journal of Melville Studies, currently edited by Jennifer Greiman, three times a year. 
 
[6] Harrison Hayford, writing in an introduction to a 1969 edition of Omoo
      Hayford goes on to say that Melville cannot be thought of either as a pure fantasist or simple plagiarist; neither solely inventing details nor stealing ideas. Even if he had, this wouldn't trouble me in the slightest; he's an artist, ffs, so is allowed creative license and to mix fact with fiction, humour with hyperbole.     
 
[7] In fact, it didn't bring in enough to support an expanding family and even the financial subsidies generously provided by his father-in-law weren't enough. And so, after moving to New York City in 1863, Melville, now well into his forties, took a position as a United States customs inspector. He would have preferred not to, but needs must. 
      He held the post for 19 years and had a reputation for honesty in a notoriously corrupt institution, but Melville obviously hated his life as during these years, suffering as he did from nervous exhaustion, physical pain, and intellectual frustration. To his credit, he kept writing. Less admirable is the fact that he began drinking heavily and his behaviour at home became increasingly violent, leading his wife's family to attempt an intervention.  
 
[8] Melville didn't publish any poetry until his late forties and didn't receive recognition as a poet until well into the 20th century. Nevertheless, he wrote predominantly poetry for around twenty-five years - i.e., twice as long as his prose career. Some critics now regard him as the first modernist poet in the United States, whose work is behind only that of Whitman and Emily Dickinson in terms of importance. 

[9] This misspelling puts me in mind of something said by Leon (J. B. Smoove) in the season 6 episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, entitled 'The Bat Mitzvah' (dir. Larry Charles, 2007). For an explanation, see the TTA post dated 2 January 2025: click here
 
[10-12] D. H. Lawrence, 'Herman Melville's Typee and Omoo', Studies in Classic American Literature, p. 122. 
 
[13] Ibid., p. 123. 
 
[14] Ibid.  
 
[15] Ibid., p. 124. 
 
[16] I will return to Lawrence's writings on Melville in the next post in this two-part series. Here, I just wanted to capture the idea of Melville as more monster than man in some regards, driven by a hatred of humanity (particularly white-faced landlubbers).  
 

14 May 2026

Torpedo the Ark Goes k-punk: A Little Bit More Politics (Sections VII - XIII)

Марк Фишер: Кислотный коммунист
(SA/2026)
 
Note: All page references in this post are to Mark Fisher's k-punk: 
The Collected and Unpublished Writings of Mark Fisher (2004 - 2016)
ed. Darren Ambrose (Repeater Books, 2018). 
 
 
VII. 
 
Fisher may have hated D. H. Lawrence, but perhaps he might have appreciated Lawrence's idea of a democracy of touch [a], as one of his criticisms of the smartphone and other forms of touchscreen technology is that they involve touch devoid of any sensuality
 
"When the fingers encounter the glassy surface of the iPhone, everything they touch on the screen feels the same. The fingers are effectively acting as extensions of the eye and the brain - an eye and brain that have now been radically re-habituated by cyberspace." (487) 
 
Fisher thinks it astonishing that this line of thought was anticipated by Baudrillard in the 1980s - but even more remarkable is the fact that Lawrence foresaw all this in the 1920s. 
 
And like Tanizaki, Lawrence also wrote in praise of shadows, which, rather surprisingly, Fisher calls for the cultivation of in addition to the carving out of spaces "beyond the hyper-bright instant" (487). I so much prefer this poetic-philosophical Mark Fisher to the one who bangs on about politics and the financial crisis of 2008. 
 
 
VIII. 
 
The phrase that best sums up Fisher's utopian phase - his acid communism - is red plenty (a phrase he borrows from Francis Spufford's 2010 book of that title). It refers to the collective capacity of the People to "produce, care and enjoy" (510) and is the thing which, he says, capitalism is set up to block: 
 
"The attack on capital has to be fundamentally based on the simple insight that, far from being about 'wealth creation', capital necessarily and always blocks our access to this common wealth." (510) 
 
In a post-capitalist future, technological advancements and the communist re-ordering of society will provide abundance for all: "Everything for everyone" (510), including bread and roses. Gone forever will be the days of artificial scarcity. 
 
Further, everyone will feel a sense of red belonging - a sense of belonging that has nothing to do with faith, flag, or family and cannot be "reduced to the chauvinistic pleasures that come from being an insider in any group whatsoever" (510-511). 
 
It is, rather, a "special sense of involvement that promised to transfigure all aspects of everyday life in a way that, previously, only religion had promised to, so that even the dreariest task could be imbued with high significance" (511). 
 
The great promise of red plenty and red belonging is that it doesn't matter "where you come from or who you are" (511), you will be cared for unconditionally. 
 
It's clear how this line of thinking might feed into the open borders movement. What's not quite so clear is how such thinking relates to Fisher's own mental health; frankly, I can't see how anyone can promote such ideas without being in some sort of delirium (similar to the mystical state experienced by those who suddenly find God) [b]. 
 
I know some of his more ardent supporters believe that Fisher's speculative nostalgia and hallucinogenic politics is the best way to confront capitalist realism, but for those looking for a rather more practical strategy for transitioning from neoliberalism to a democracy to come, Fisher's work is essentially worthless. It also seems somewhat at odds with his own more pessimistic views and criticism of the moralising left. 
 
In sum: whilst I'm all for the creation of new narratives and conceptual frameworks - and maybe even a little bit of libidinal engineering - Fisher's acid communism fails to convince and red plenty leaves me hungry for something more. 
 
 
IX. 
 
And back to the topic of consciousness-raising ... A practice (or range of practices) that Fisher believes to be of crucial importance to molecular revolution: 
 
"Consciousness-raising opens up the possibility of living, not merely theorising about, a collective experience. It can give us the resources to behave, think and act differently [...]" (514) 
 
For Fisher: 
 
"The roots of any successful struggle will come from people sharing their feelings, especially their feelings of misery and desperation, and together attributing the sources of these feelings to impersonal structures [...] mediated by particular figures to which we must attach populist loathing" (514). 
 
These figures would include, for example, landlords and entrepreneurs, whom Fisher brands as parasites. We might, I would suggest, see this as a succinct definition of what Nietzsche calls ressentiment and which is central to slave morality. 
 
Fisher claims that the aim of consciousness-raising is to produce more compassion "for others and for ourselves" (514), but I worry that his proposed method of consciousness-raising will only generate class hate and make people feel pretty rotten about themselves too; has knowing that others feel as desperate as you do ever really helped? [c] 
 
 
X.
 
Fisher is grateful to Francis Spufford for reminding us all that "when communism was defeated, it wasn't just a particular ideology that disappeared" (518). 
 
No, the demise of communism - and he's thinking here of the USSR - was also "the disappearance of modernism's Promethean dream of a total transformation of human society" (518). 
 
Now you might be forgiven for thinking that's a good thing. For this dream became a dystopian nightmare, did it not? Surely Fisher knows the history of the Soviet Union - and, indeed, he might also be expected to know what happened to Prometheus (for those who don't recall their Ancient Greek mythology, it ended even worse for him than for Trotsky).    
 
Is Fisher really falling back into what Nick Land would call a sentimental indulgence - i.e., the hope that a political revolution will lead to "new productive, perceptual, cognitive and libidinal possibilities" (518). 
 
I don't want to be a postmodern killjoy who radically lowers expectations and crushes dreams, etc. But, really, c'mon! Knowing, Mark, that there's no way back to old school communism [d], why pin your hopes on renewing (and resuming) class solidarity and the building of radical machineries of desire
 
 
XI. 
 
I mentioned above how, for Fisher, "the roots of any successful struggle will come from people sharing their feelings" (514). 
 
And yet, in another text from 2015, titled 'Anti-Therapy', Fisher acknowledges that the idea that "talking about our feelings could be a political act seems counterintuitive" (521) and that this new emotionalism seems closely linked to capitalist realism - born of Tony Blair's "manipulation of the extraordinary grief jamboree that ensued in the immediate wake of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales" (521). 
 
Fisher rightly says that the new emo-politics enforced by New Labour "went far beyond mere mood-setting" (522) - now we all had to possess the right feelings and share them in the approved manner. Blair "led the way in normalising the emotional self-exploitation that was necessary for the final phase of neoliberalism in Britain" (522) - a phase that Fisher amusingly calls spincerity (the public performance of an emotion you may or may not genuinely feel). 
 
It's enough to make one wish for the return of traditional British restraint and resolve; of stiff upper-lips and stoical detachment. However, Fisher sees this as reactionary and posits in contrast a third way (if I can use such a phrase); one based on his reading of Spinoza. 
 
For Spinoza's philosophy "makes the management of emotions central to its project" (524) and aims not to repress feelings, but engineer joy via the use of reason. This, for Fisher, makes Spinoza "a thinker whose work is an indispensable resource for any progressive project" (524) - a view that is not uncommon amongst neo-Marxist thinkers (particularly those influenced by Deleuze and Badiou) [e].  
 
Get Spinoza on board, says Fisher, and talking about our feelings can become a radical political act; "part of a practice of consciousness-raising that makes visible the impersonal and intersubjective structures that ideology normally obscures from us" (530).  
 
  
XII.  
 
This seems at first a rather disingenuous thing to write: 
 
"It's somewhat ironic that theories of the 'Event' have come to the fore [...] at just the moment in history when it has become clear that events in and of themselves don't change anything." (531)
 
For Fisher surely knows that the Event (as conceptualised by philosophers) is extremely rare and has little to do with the events covered by the news media, such as Live Aid, for example, or the G20 protests. The Event - at least as I understand it (inspired by Lawrence) - is a rent in the Great Umbrella; something that allows a glimpse of chaos and the discovery of a new world via the destruction of fixed forms [f].  
 
But perhaps Fisher was thinking of something said by Zarathustra to the effect that what matters more than noisy, violent events are those changes that take place in us in our stillest hours: "'The world revolves, not around the inventors of new noises, but around the inventors of new values: it revolves inaudibly.'" [g] 
 
Heidegger picked up on this idea after the War, when he attempted to purge his notion of Transzendenz - Dasein's ability to start over and transform the world - not only from its conventional ties to metaphysics but to the idea of action. What was required, Heidegger argued, was not some great event, but a form of silent waiting
 
What seems most to worry Fisher is that events often result in euphoric outbursts of feeling "followed by depressive collapse" (531) - but the same could be said of love, no? 
 
Still, if events are the be-all and end-all - if change doesn't happen through them alone - "there are nevertheless moments which function as thresholds, opening up a new terrain of struggle, and allowing different collective emotions to propagate" (532). 
 
Which is basically saying things can still happen out of the blue ...   
 
 
XIII.  
 
Finally, we come to the two short texts, both from 2016, with which part four of k-punk closes; firstly, 'Cybergothic vs Steampunk' and, secondly, 'Mannequin Challenge' ...
 
In the former, Fisher argues that the global terrorist network ISIS "holds up a mirror to twenty-first century capitalist nihilism" (544). A form of nihilism that is essentially a type of existential poverty. We might not like to admit it, but ISIS offer a solution to this (albeit a horrifically false solution). For like criminal gangs and religious cults, ISIS offer those who join fellowship and meaning.    
 
Perhaps more interestingly, Fisher describes ISIS in relation to his concept of the cybergothic:
 
"There are no 'pure' archaisms, nothing ever repeats without difference, and ISIS is properly understood as a cybergothic phenomenon which combines the ancient with the contemporary (beheadings on the web)." (546)
 
And whilst he is obviously not a supporter of ISIS, Fisher - a bit like Foucault, who greeted the Iranian Revolution in 1979 with warm enthusiasm [h] - is excited by "the rising tide of experimental political forms in so many areas of the world at the moment" (546). 
 
And that's because, for him, this shows that "people are rediscovering group consciousness and the potency of the collective" (546).     
 
I can't help wondering whether, if he were alive today, Fisher (like Foucault in his late work) would find it necessary to rethink questions central to the Enlightenment and to liberalism. To concede, for example, that whilst the individual is a political fiction, it's nevertheless a useful one which needs vigorously defending; as does secular society when threatened by militant religious fascism. 
 
In the latter piece, Fisher comments on Donald Trump and his successful campaign in 2016 to become President of the United States. 
 
In contrast to Clinton and her team of "political robots playing out an exhausted programme" (547), Trump's campaign "was possessed of a sense of effervescing excitement, of anarchic unpredictability, the feeling of belonging to a building-movement" (547). 
 
Fisher understands how Trump caught the mood of popular dissatisfaction with capitalist realism and performed with a certain libidinal freedom that was attractive not only to his supporters, but to many who wouldn't vote for him in a million years and were appalled by his rhetoric and immoderation. His campaign may have been ugly, but at least it wasn't boring. 
 
In brief, like many other commentators of a certain generation, Fisher recognised that Trump was the punk candidate (what this tells us about the latter is an interesting question we might discuss one day).   
 
Notes
 
[a] I have written several posts referencing this Lawrentian idea; see, for example, the post dated 14 May 2014 - 'Towards a Democracy of Touch' - click here
      Note that the word 'hated' is used deliberately here; Matt Colquhoun confirmed to me in a recent email (7 May 2026) Fisher's visceral hostility toward Lawrence.
 
[b] Normally, I would not comment on someone's mental health. However, since Fisher and his followers make such a point of politicising depression - arguing that it is a social phenomenon heavily influenced by capitalism rather than a purely chemical or biological issue - I feel justified in doing so.
      Note, however, that my use of the term delirium is not simply intended in the narrow clinical sense, but more in the philo-political sense deployed by Deleuze and Guattari, for whom delirium is a way the unconscious invests in the social field, sometimes opening up revolutionary lines of flight. I suggest that Fisher's vision of acid communism operates as this precise kind of political delirium; an elaborate, idealised alternative reality constructed to escape the immense psychological claustrophobia of capitalist realism. Such a vision of utopia functions as a temporary, internal flight mechanism from profound depression. Suddenly, the world feels meaningful and loving once more. 
      However, as a political strategy, this hallucinogenic clarity borders on a mystical state rather than practical materialist organising. And, unfortunately, such states seldom last; when the speculative fantasy dissolves, the individual comes back down to earth with a bump, resulting in renewed depression. Fisher, as most readers will know, tragically committed suicide less than two years after writing the text discussed here.
 
[c] Historically, of course, it has. In the second-wave feminist consciousness-raising groups of the late 1960s and 1970s, for example, sharing personal experiences of isolation, shame, and subjugation was precisely what allowed women to see that their private misery was structural and political. This collective realisation was a vital catalyst for solidarity and agency. 
      However, my contention with Fisher is that his specific formula for consciousness-raising risks short-circuiting this therapeutic transformation. Rather than moving from shared misery to structural agency, Fisher's explicit demand for populist loathing targeted at parasites paves a direct line toward Nietzschean ressentiment. It risks trapping the participants in a permanent state of reactive anger and class hate, which ultimately toxicifies the self and breeds a new form of psychological misery. 
      Of course, Fisher himself is aware of this danger, which is why he later refers readers to Wendy Brown's essay 'Wounded Attachments' (1993) - an essay in which she diagnoses the psycho-libidinal origins of an identity politics and what those on the right call wokism
      Fisher writes: "Drawing on Nietzsche's account of resentment [...] Brown wrote of a political subjectivity which 'becomes deeply invested in its own impotence, even while it seeks to assuge the pain of its powerlessness through its vengeful moralizing, through its wide distribution of suffering, through its reproach of power as such'" (526-527). And Fisher concludes that today "the mixture of moralizing aggression and investment in impotence has proliferated in a political atmosphere now substantially shaped by the online environment" (527).
      Brown's essay can be found in Political Theory, Vol. 21, No. 3 (August 1993), pp. 390-410. It can be accessed via JSTOR by clicking here.  
 
[d] Fisher says as much: "I don't believe that the old signifier 'communism' can be revived [...] It is now irretrievably tainted by terrible associations, forever tied to the nightmares of the twentieth century" (520). Funnily enough, however, a few months later he names his new politics of desire emerging from the future ... acid communism.  
 
[e] As a Lawrentian, I have my reservations about Spinoza and his rationalism. Nevertheless, his work is useful in exposing the myth of the autonomous individual at the heart of the liberal tradition which drags with it notions of free will and responsibility.   
 
[f] See the post titled 'on Poetry, Chaos and the Great Umbrella' (10 June 2013): click here.  
 
[g] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1969), pp. 153-154.  
 
[h] Writing in an Italian daily newspaper (Corriere della Sera), Foucault praised the Iranian Revolution as an authentic anti-imperialist movement and a spiritual revolt against Western-imposed modernity, rather than just a religious coup. See my post dated 14 August 2014, in which I discuss this: click here
 
 
This post is a continuation of my previous post on Fisher's political writings in the book k-punk (2018): click here
 
And for earlier thoughts on Fisher's political writings in the above work, please click here.