Images by Stephanie Ballantine and Mikala Hyldig Dal

 

(or: a beginner’s guide to Slutty Existentialism,
or: a brief analysis of some capacities that might be ascribed
to Nietzsche’s “Philosopher of the Future”,
or: a peak into (the Autopoiesis of) the Cosmic Cunt,
or: preliminary autopsy of an anti-enlightenment
terrorist-theorist)

You might read the following as a rough, an admittedly not entirely qualified, giggling yet deadly earnest attempt to carve out some potentials in applying “the Crack Whore” (tCW) as a philosophical figure towards a model of world-engagement, or worlding; a state of being (of mind really) that determines our way of interacting with the mind-Matter of the human Real by way of queering transgression and ecstatic destruction of Self – and as an effect, possibly, the world, universe, cosmos: to go somewhere else, beyond. (No, really: beyond).

For the purpose of this thought experiment, “the Crack Whore” poses as a figure that sacrifices her social and physical constitution to gain an un/holy erection of the mind.

tCW hunts for moments of sublime ecstasy, she is out to eradicate any demarcation separating subject from object of desire.

tCW’s practice is based on the understanding that the body is far from reducible to the sum of its organs (whether these be understood as biological units, social constructs or immaterial projections of apocalyptic desire.

tCW understands that existence = neurology and that chemistry is philosophy; her body is a gateway towards the Black at the pit of the universe: the divine mystery of the human mind, the subject of her relentless attention.

tCW injects/snorts/smokes/swallows any substance she deems an appropriate tool for the alteration of her psycho-sensory capacity. She accelerates the (immanent) progression of material death, setting off from the edge of her body (skin, teeth, the white of the eyes) and moves inwards (womb, intestines, stomach acid), eventually – soon, even – to cancel out the material capacity of its own agent; in a magnificent act of choice choosing choice, she takes Kierkegård by the hand and leaps – finally! – into the abyss, leaving existential Angst behind as a poorly defended thesis. With Cixous she climbs downwards.

Already excommunicate from the bourgeoisie, tCW is considered transgressive even by those who inhabit the fringes of society.

The Homo Sacer of parking lots, public bathrooms and dark alleyways, run-down suburbs at Eastern German/Polish border-passes, her flesh shimmers through burkas turned inside-out on Tehrani highways.

An anti-enlightenment terrorist-theorist, tCW is Lady Jesus submitting to the pleasure of perpetual crucifixion. Adhering to the cosmic call of Mother Goddess Kali (Darkness and Birth), she stretches out her tongue, not in dismay (if she did step on Shiva’s chest it was because she meant to do just that) but to receive in endless amounts: Cum, Cunts, Hard-ons; Infection, Affection, celestial Self Annihilation. Imploding into a complete lack of space, she defeats conquest by becoming un-measurable, a full-blown abject.

Claiming the Abyss as her Birthright, accepting the solitude of she-who-knows, she is brave to the point of madness. Even if she did infect N. with the corporeal madness of syphilis, she would never decline to infect him again, over-and-over; renewing their bond, obliterating all anxieties of future infection by being infection itself.

To tCW, CRACK stands for life in its uttermost density: a body of psycho-material substances that let her explode into cosmos ­– upwards, outwards, omnipresent, obliterated – in an orgasm that fulfills the ultimate goal of any orgasm: Annihilation of the Self.

On the path towards her final consequence tCW leaves behind scattered hegemonies of:

moral essentialism, monogamy, stoicism, bureaucracy, bodybuilding, the nation-state, drone strikes, stock markets, insurance companies, organic farming, bio-politics, border policies and ennui and brings forth situationism, slutty existentialism, afro/futurism, nomadism, vampirism, fetishism, asphyxiation, the atomic bomb, the anthropocene, auto/cannibalism, polyamory, insanity, the Mother Goddess, touch and (molecular and other) perversion.

Ultimately tCW will defy gravity to escape earth, eat up the world and head towards the interstellar. A black hole, she absorbs all light, rejects any gaze: she is a leap into unseeing, unknowing: tCW is a retinal wound and a neuro-transmitted revolution. Her reign is mysticism, alchemy, lost knowledge, sunken cities, Minoan labyrinths; endlessly intertwining rough materialism with her lack of space. A pure incision into the fabric of the Real, she reveals nothing, yet contains the most intimate knowledge about the backside of All Things.

  • SPIT: in the face of your creator and Kiss the Hand of your Destroyer. The caress of a destroyer is sweeter than a mother’s touch, and much, much sweeter than the incestuous love of a jealous father-god.
  • NEVER: mind The End of the World, nature has no soul, its greed is plain. The earth ball is dust, as are we, and You Know You Don’t Think Sand Is Beautiful. Welcome the anthropocene as you would a bareback rapist who liberates you from fear of future decease by means of instant infection; receive her with all your body entries open, stretched up and outwards, welcoming.
  • DIRECT: your full attention towards the black at the pit of the human mind. At the bottom of the universe there is: Consciousness. At the top of the universe: Consciousness. In between: Nothing. Everything touches everything else. A movement here reconfigures space-matter everywhere. No Z-axis, no spatial coordinates, no Descartes.
  • CHERISH: the poietic in all things that generate attentiveness. Disregard “good” versus “evil,” “horror” versus “bliss” as nonsensical concepts: adhere to the autopoiesis of the profane.
  • BECOME: a slit in the universe, a cosmic cunt.
  • BE: black matter, refract all light, defy the pornotopical gaze of enlightenment-moralist-crusaders. Let All-That-Is slide into the gap of the magnificent nothingness between your spread legs. Be lack-of-space, so that you will never become object-of-measurement. Reclaim the right to remain invisible. De-enlighten.
  • PERVERT: your Self. Self is a delusion of the Self. At the core of your being, in your very atoms, unruly electrons scatter about, taking delight in nano-level infanticide + cannibalism, infinite games of hide-and-seek. Become the workings of your perverse insides. No I, no me-thought, no narrator. Let your Self dissolve into ecstatic mind-loss.
  • FUCK: the disabled, the deformed, the deranged. Fuck them, suck them, lick their hungry tongues and fist their gazes, put a leash on them and lead them into your ass-mouth-pussy, whatever you have; drink their cum, their piss, everything they’ve got. Discard the young. Fucking a young person means missing the point. Favor the ungracefully aged, those who have molested their bodies to let pleasure-intoxicated minds blossom: a mindfuck beats fucking a body proper any time.
  • LOSE: your mind. It was lost the moment history started tampering with it. Destroy history too.
  • FORCE: collision. Empty the fluid content of your skull onto the concrete as it rushes towards you in one last brush with the world of strict physics. Join us in the Interstellar.
  • TAKE: out loans, borrow as much as you can at exorbitant rates. Give the money away. Possession = suicide: it’s murder, not annihilation. Let bank managers escape from open windows and turn into paper when they hit Ground Zero.
  • CRUSH: your body into the form of a smooth black cylinder, half your body size. Have air tubes inserted into your throat, your nostrils, ears, eyes, ass, into your veins, translucent tubes turning pink as the transition smothers your insides (bits and pieces blocking airways), air trickling into veins. Live on as a plant in someone’s apartment.

Signed,

Mina Loy

On behalf of The Theater of the Absurd Fetlifegoddess Group
An ungodly offspring of the Techno-sexual Reading Circle