Nilsi

Also, just so we're clear: there would be no profit - none at all - if the real price were fully accounted for in trade.

Tonight I almost told another lie 'Cause all I wanna do is get fucked up Waitin' for the angels to come down They take my hand and drag me to the club

https://www.yeule.jp/ The marketing for the new album looks so fucking juicy - omg, this is like porn to me.

It’s no coincidence, I think, that right around 2008, zombies came roaring into the cultural zeitgeist. Left 4 Dead dropped that year - pure panic and coordination against endless hordes. Then The Walking Dead in 2010, turning collapse into serialized trauma porn. Call of Duty folded in Nazi zombies like it was just another game mode, and by the time DayZ and World War Z hit, we weren’t even pretending it was fiction anymore. It was like we were rehearsing - over and over - for a world where the system collapses, but the motions don’t stop. The market didn’t die in 2008 - it reanimated. Hollowed-out, undead, no longer promising life but still demanding motion. Consumption without subjectivity. An economy of pure appetite, stripped of ideals. We didn’t slay the monster. We became its backdrop. And it kept moving.

Well, there you have your problem. And here I am, precisely a pessimist - in that I think the market has slipped the leash entirely. I keep coming back to 2008. The event horizon. The point beyond which no emancipatory posture - Marxist or otherwise - makes it back in one piece. What followed wasn’t rupture, but revelation: the market is the alien in Alien. Unkillable. Adaptive. It rebuilds itself from ash. And instead of us hacking into it, it arranges us - like a puppetmaster made of code and appetite. And as you said: not only is the market’s only desire to grow - it’s that even if it didn’t, the fantasy of a sustainable market is already a joke. Growth only happens through excess. Through burn. Through extraction. Like any cancer. Acceleration isn’t a side effect - it is the system. So unless you believe in a miracle - and I mean the Silicon Valley kind, the gospel of the upload, where the market becomes so digital, so arcane, that it detaches entirely and drags us with it into pure cyberspace - then really the only question left is: what comes after total meltdown? And I think that’s a literally unthinkable event. Because what’s melting isn’t just capital. It’s meaning. It’s time. It’s the whole symbolic scaffolding through which we once staged “life.”

My god, yeule might be my favorite artist in terms of pure world-building. This Final Fantasy–esque BDSM-goth-cyberpunk shit hits my aesthetic G-spot just right.

Lol chill out, man. You’re not gonna spiral into depression just because you put on some perfume.

Of course there are tradeoffs. If you want your essentialist metaphysics - Plato, Kant, Freud, Lacan, Jung, all that good stuff - go ahead. Neither side is more “true.” Which doesn’t mean there’s no truth, btw. Just don’t come at me with your “both/and” bullshit. Sooner or later, reality will force your hand. When shit hits the fan, you’ll know exactly which God you’re praying to. That’s the thing about metaphysics - you don’t get to not choose.

There’s a big difference between some pseudo-intellectual astrology - like “which of the 7 colors am I?” - and Deleuze’s subversion of the identity principle in favor of a worldview grounded in difference in itself. The only reduction happening there is the reduction of reductionism itself. Saying Deleuze reduces difference is like Alexander Dugin arguing that if postmodernism says all perspectives are equal, then the perspective that not all perspectives are equal must be equally valid. Which is, of course, reactionary bullshit.

“Gradually it has become clear to me what every great philosophy so far has been: namely, the personal confession of its author and a kind of involuntary and unconscious memoir.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Yes, absolutely! It’s precisely this sensibility - or dare I say, empathy - for what things are in themselves, or to speak with Deleuze, for difference in itself, that’s hopelessly lost in these kinds of totalitarian models.

Omg, where has this record been all my life? The way it weaves Black musical roots, psychedelia, and raw Americana into a free jazz composition - without sacrificing any of its avant-garde fire - is absolutely stunning.

So art - which, if you go by one of Plato’s central arguments, is pure simulacrum, the antithesis of truth, something that doesn’t just distort reality but makes it fundamentally inaccessible - is then just a symptom of low-stage development, or what?

Actually, Tuscan Leather was my first Tom Ford fragrance ever - because of that stupid Drake line about how it smells like cocaine, lol. Funny enough, it’s still probably my favorite fragrance and my favorite Drake song at the same time.

I do appreciate their Soleil line as well, though. I only have Soleil Blanc from that line - which you’ve tried too - and I love that stuff in the summer. But for me, it really only works during those peak summer days, when that sun-lotion-esque vibe can fully shine.

That’s tough, because what perfume I put on depends on so many variables - like my outfit, the occasion, but most importantly, my mood. Which is exactly why I have as many fragrances as I do. That said, purely based on what I wear most often, I’d say Tuscan Leather is probably my most used daytime scent, and Noir de Noir is my go-to for nighttime - it’s definitely my favorite after-dark perfume. Lately though, I’ve been wearing their newest fragrance, Black Lacquer, like crazy. I honestly think it’s the best thing they’ve put out in years. I’m usually not that into woody scents, but the additional freshness and spice, paired with that curveball of ink and vinyl - like, how cool is it conceptually to smell like vinyl? - just really works for me. Someone on Fragrantica called this „BDSM in a bottle“ - what more could i possibly add? So yeah, right now, those three are probably my favorites.

That’s a very naive assessment. Combine AI, synthetic biology, and open-source gain-of-function research, and you already have a situation where someone reasonably sophisticated could engineer civilization-wipeout-level viruses from their basement. And let’s not pretend there’s a shortage of deeply disturbed individuals whose sole aim is to inflict maximum suffering on humanity - school shooters, sadistic torturers, the whole spectrum. I’m honestly surprised you don’t grasp the fragility of the world we’re living in. This could all end in the blink of an eye.

Yes, but you have to take these things in perspective. Žižek is, unavoidably, an academic - condemned to read and speak in that peculiar performance loop for the rest of his life. But instead of posturing as some solemn heir to German Idealism, or dissolving into pure post-structuralist drift, he does something else - something far more subversive, I’d argue. He takes the inability of language to grasp the absolute - the metaphysical crack he never stops talking about - not as a flaw to be fixed, but as the very motor of his thought. And then he performs this failure: obsessively, chaotically, with a kind of desperate comedic excess. This, to me, is the philosophical pendant to something like free jazz or punk rock. I get why it might not be everyone’s thing, but I still think it’s a worthwhile and wholly original philosophical gesture - something that enriches the world in the same way someone like John Coltrane does. Again, if you’re not into that kind of thing, that’s fine - but it is a bit unsophisticated to measure everything against your own totalizing (even if logically straightforward) framework, if you ask me. It’s like judging Picasso through the lens of a Renaissance painter, or whatever. It just makes no sense.

So really, I’m just advocating for a radically immanent life. The kind of immanence an animal probably lives in - no higher purpose, no transcendent goal, no story about where it’s all heading. Just presence. Just movement. Just sensation. There’s no notion of anything beyond. But that doesn’t mean there’s no desire, no imagination, no thought. It just means all of that becomes immanent too - no longer pointing elsewhere, no longer in service of some higher ideal. Desire isn’t a ladder out of the world - it’s part of the world. So is thinking. So is dreaming. And honestly, that’s what I’ve been trying to say this whole time - beneath all the arguing, the theory, the critique. That’s the core of it.

It means that there is no goal. No arrival. No ethical imperative you're subordinating yourself to. It means your desire flows freely - without being redirected toward some transcendent purpose. And most of all, it means recognizing that there is no unified self running the show. Just an assemblage of drives, impulses, intensities - constantly shifting, competing, overlapping. And instead of trying to control that, you let it happen. You let it move through you. Without naming any one drive “God” and forcing the others to serve it. As for what that means in practice? It’s precisely unknowable. Because you're no longer organizing your life around some fixed ideal or outcome. Instead, you let it unfold - spontaneously, unevenly, irrationally. And not even that. Your present being becomes so expansive that even the idea of “unfolding” starts to dissolve. You're just carried - momentarily - by whatever intensity arises. Swept into the noosphere, perhaps. Dissolved in it. Yet you always return. To this body. This moment. This breath. Without agenda. Without knowing. And - maybe most importantly - without even wanting to know what happens next. And what a difference that is from clinging to the idea that "oh my god, there’s an actual crisis happening" - something I have to fix, or at the very least perform some empty gesture toward, just to relieve myself of the guilt and existential weight that thought places on me.

It’s not similar to mine at all. Even the idea that you could “turn to God for answers” is absurd. What would God even say? Probably something like, “Get a life and stop bothering me with your silly questions.” My point is that your whole Game B framework is what’s actually trapping you in a kind of fatalistic logic - you think you're solving a crisis, but you’re actually creating one. You could just let go of all that, break the loop, and become totally unbound in your own becoming. But hey - if you prefer the chains on, that’s your choice. There’s nothing “wrong” with that either.

So what’s the point here? That God’s going to show up with the secret blueprint for Game B? Come on. If you actually followed the logic you’re invoking to its end, it would completely unravel your own ethical position. So I honestly don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore.

No one is in control. There is no control. There never was. There is only the schizophrenic ecstasy of becoming. How can you claim to know God if your idea of God is so vulgar? God is a schizo - always was, always will be.

But then again, this is just me spinning my own narrative. So if you feel the need to freak out over the end of the world, or organize a protest, or do whatever it is you mean when you say we should "use our actions wisely" - go for it. I'm not here to stop you. I’m just trying to offer something different.