So many things need to remain secret. Even trying to share some of these things buries them further. That sentence in a novel, that line in that book; that singer’s voice; that chord in that symphony; that sun ray, stretched for a moment across the evening sky, tearing through the slightest parting clouds; that breath that sweeps into your body; that touch of another’s hand at that time; that look of love.

That reaching out, filled with the completed sense of meaning: that “I’ve got it”; “it all makes sense”; that fleeting wholeness.

All moments discrete and distinct.

Only in common as particulars. 

Your existence is a secret. 


You know, if you provide “feedback” for a company about their product or service, you’re “working” for free. Whilst, strangely, both you and the corporation assume this is a benefit, almost childishly, both expecting some betterment, it is more a symptom of a symbiotic delusion. The corporation sources free ‘consultancy’, and expends vast resources in new infrastructures to allow this “feedback”.

This “feedback” is the most recent and overt surfacing of a well-trained and entrenched delusion. This delusion: that you ought have an opinion. And, yes, the “ought” explicitly evokes the moral obligation- the enforcement of opinion; the duty to opinion. 

(Whether the evolution of the idea of individuality has lead to this duty is not questioned here; that is, the cause of the delusion is not being questioned.)

This obligation forces responsiveness to everything- every quivering, irrelevant, trivial variance in the field of social perception. The results are obvious and sickening in a pathological sense. It is devastating for an enlivening of ‘self-hood’. It turns your self into an enervated being, strung out with the constant use of nervous energy: always, on guard, tempted to voice, drawn into the raging and ravaging torrent of expectation. Expending what might be beautiful, caring, constantly- drained of thoughtfulness. Caring is, and becomes a spectacle, a victim.


If you exorcise your demons, you really only make room for more. If, however, you exercise your demons, encourage your vices, they will become tired. Still taking up as much space, they will be settled, lethargic and futile. So… 

A) future i

In the future (probably not too distant) companies will charge you for products, which they supply you, based on the data they collect, not on your choosing. These products will not be “purchased” in the way we may recognise now. They will be purchases nonetheless; “purchase” much more related to the etymological root as “seeking to bring about”. And this is how it will be justified, and legally founded. You wanted it, you just didn’t know that.The vast collection of your habits, sites, your footprint, will lead corporations to the necessary step of providing for you what you want-without-knowing-it. These products will appear, and you will be billed accordingly. These debts will be legitimised as merely a sort of co-opted, or co-operated destiny of (your) desire.

It will appear strange at first: these things you want ‘appearing’. The bill then following. But this strangeness will not last long. Soon enough, we will be thankful, and even happy that, finally, the burden of desire will have been corporatised. 

As it is, we have already stepped into being the society of ‘waiting’. This new stage will be the extension of this: the eternal waiting for nothing. Everything will appear even before time, but we will remain waiting… for nothing.