O c u l o m a n c y
(on pragmatics of white-out transgression)
by Basilisk
A picture from a cum fiesta: black background ... flat; a
middle-aged woman lying on a dark purple couch (more reminding
me of a painted set by Lucian Freud); eyes wide open filled with
the immaculate whiteness of semen; more exquisite than the rolled
back eyes triggered by epilepsy or a Bataillesque eye of a delerial
father pissing into the pit. A piece of soft marble essentially
artificial to nature; and not molded through geologic and diagenetic
processes. This is to me a fitting eye for cutting into the oceanian
monstrosity of Moby Dick. Ahab, this magus of seduction and
becoming, however, suggests peeling the eye to publicize its true
ocular sphere, forging a vessel collecting all the juice that the sun
squirts, eroticized by a cosmic ululation: "toss it off, babe".
Followed by this ritualistic circumcision of the eye, the charred
whiteness is deposited on the eyeball. With the installation of the
photo-poison of the sun on the eye, actualized at the price of
constructing a tactical route bound to pseudo-flux of a landscaped
Outside, the eye is accentuated as an economic zone of a
blackening white zone, an energy swamp which highly attracts
economic pimps, energy mercantilist and libidinal architectonic
forces of desire, all the acolytes the disciples of Pseudo-flux [1].
The eye becomes a true boundary of open systems (not openness),
politically unlocking the gate toward adventurers of the outside.
Make no mistake, boundary is not an orthodox conservative of the
right-wing, a hard-liner, but a master of pseudo-flux, stealth,
cunning, adept in giving solidity a fluxional fate, forging the most
flexible architectonic forces out of intensities (of the Outside).
Boundary is a bulimic complex.
Although the zone of whiteness (the white-heat of
transgression or solar passion for cosmic black-out), becomes
imminent to the eye, but a fluid distance is also invoked through
which the Outside is introduced as the sole route to solar unenlightenment. Such a route, of course, is not dogmatically metric,
nor does it have a sense of direction but inevitably is all pregnant
of tactics and fluvial movements which can not avoid to carry the
softened solid particles of the ground and its horizons seeking to
impregnate (make fertile) flux and transform it to a gradient of
flowing solids forming new landscapes, faces and lands expert and
creative in keeping their solidity intact within the flux. Such a route
does not only form new landscapes of anthropomorphic desire and
lands on which eventually monolithic rocks are devitrified but also
sets itself as a maneuvering ground for the anthropomorphic
desire. Is it all we can do; forgetting the artistic autonomy of
tellurian darkness and its ingenuity to taste the true perversion of
the sun and economically open ourselves to the outside whose
space can be efficiently fertilized (charged with deposition
processes) by energy pimps?
Ahab’s pragmatic suggestion is indeed of use and interest but
the sun invites and deserves more creative eyes, and more
complex in terms of bonds they engineer with the demonic zone of
whiteness.
Our reference picture portrays a Blue romanticism, a Bperformance (as of B-movies) which knows nothing of subjective
eyes; it laughs at them, mocks them and makes a pretentious zone
of whiteness in a sense of ruined theatricalism (a soup opera gone
mad); a whiteness whose project is to waste as it entertains and
entertains on an inhuman level as it wastes 'performance’ on the
stage. You want to see white, then, here I 'come’: but all you can
see is darkness. The whiteness of the outside comes on the ocular
sphere through the ever-atrophying paranoia of masculinity whose
once the key substance of its full characteristics and libidinal
commercialism (and a cardinal code for being recognized from
female virility) -- supposedly fertilizing semen or libidinal blood -has merely transmuted to a readymade material for creating
exquisite situations of irony and anti-male performances much like
tons of foaming blood in zombie flicks and slasher movies
hemorrhaging entertainingly in the complete absence of wound.
This is an eye summoning the whiteness of a wasting paranoia
(It) on its ocular sphere, making its sleeky surface closer to
'IT’ [2], to see the ample opportunities of being prosthesized by
such a waste (whose origin -- He -- is also progressively atrophied
through schizotrategic lines of terminal paranoia) not through a
subjective horizon or superscope but a Blue-situation, a B-line, a
B-project for summoning the ill-lighted immensity of whiteness. An
abominable eye terribly enthusiastic to trade through seduction
and strategic affirmations; it seduces instead of opening itself;
seducing whiteness not as an embodied immensity of the Outside
(the scourge of the outside) but a plague profoundly emerging
from within as a waste necessarily seething up from the resisting
(auto-wrecking) body of paranoia (which cannot survive but as a
waste) and its autonomous processes ... a waste gradually
engulfing paranoia and its machinery. Such a plague rising from
within corresponds with 'IT’, the wasted 'He’ who comically both
resisted and triggered the hetero-genesis of the Outside as a mere
route to solar whiteness. But what it awakens is actually an
epidemic self-propagating waste: It.
The eye who tastes 'IT’ belongs to Moby Dick, the leviathan of
whiteness. An eye running hot for a Tellurian darkness.
White fade-out to Blue Omega.
But still, I ask myself: who can imagine the creativity of a
lesbian whose cum is white?
Notes:
[1] On Pseudo-flux, see: Pestis Solidus: On Economy of Pseudo-flux
[2] On 'It’ and masculinity, see: A Good Meal