[-empyre-] Through the Crack in the Past

And we're gone like we're dancing on angels
And we're gone, through the crack in the past
Like a dead man walking.

David Bowie, -Earthling- (CD) Virgin (1997)

The world is complicit in sedition and its 'going apart' from itself.

Perhaps, we too are gone.  The critics, with little sense of direction; the
artists with little sense of purpose; perhaps, to borrow from Baudrillard,
the "mélancolique générale de la sphère artistique" is far too much weight
for any of us to lift.

We trade in the currency of thought as a challenge, and there is but a small
market for it.  And alas, though we seek someone to blame for the underlying
conditions of thought, there is no one; and certainly Capital, least of all.
For to claim that Capital is to blame for the world, is only to indict
ourselves of the crime of replication for which every living thing worries.
The sign of Capital is that of our own; such a conflict it brings is always

We began with our thoughts on the subject of 'a going apart' and what such a
term in our languages might mean today.  Sedition is certainly a narrative
trap with teeth, but for whom?  How far apart can one go, without
identifying an other?  And since for every one, there is an other, 'a going
apart' is the world's ineluctable destiny, no?  

In the end, a society is left with the dirty work of the terrain and its
demarcation, and the self-discrimination of identification because we are
destined to interfere with the world as a function of our overreplicative
device; the metaphysics of Capital being merely its simulation.  Out of
favor cultural anthropologies become seditious currencies in a world that
traffics in the currencies of its very own genetic Code.   


Nicholas Ruiz III
Interdisciplinary Program in the Humanities
--Florida State University--
Editor, Kritikos

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