Bloody Existence

My Egoist Way to Insurrection

I would like you to imagine that every person you attempted to talk to was bleeding out in gruesome ways. I want you to imagine that this “gore” that you see was only visible and at all perceptible to you. I want you to imagine that the demands of the transactional relationships made possible by capitalism or even the value-form itself alienate you to the point of tears and fear and gut-churning hellish existence that makes Sisyphean-absurdist ideologies like my own kind of funnily impossible to live up to.  

I want you to imagine that when someone touches you that you see as bloodied that you can almost feel the blood smudge on your arm, that you can feel the warm, viscous substance that lets oxygen flow through a body on your arm, no matter how much it isn’t there. Imagine this blood as a liquid paranoia, and as it seeps into your skin, you can feel it, mentally. Imagine this feeling spreading and breaking down your psyche into shards that cut you on the way to the floor, where they make it impossible to walk.  

I want you to imagine that there are bare moments of relief. That some people don’t bleed, that some people are without the gore that leaves you spiraling into a bloody paranoia. I want you to imagine, after weeks of talking to these people, a skinsuit falls, that they become nothing but blood, but the paranoiac’s fuel. I want you to imagine the unimaginable fear this brings, and the inability to try again that it breeds.  

This is, pseudo-literally, my existence. It is a bloody, neigh impossible existence that traps me in a state of constant paranoia. This is also the reason for every facet of my political radicality in one way or another.  

I feel a lot of this “gore” comes from transaction and the value-form, along with the stunted social relations of modern society, made only worse by the enforced becoming-useful I describe in bright melancholia. I also believe that the other people I perceive as not being part of the “gory” masses are mostly people seen as social “outcasts,” which is why most often they are hiding something. This is not referring to “societal outcasts” such as bare bones outsiderism, like being LGBTQ, although it’s not inherently disconnected.  

The point is that most people that I see as without gore are victims of the stratified state of mental health, schizophrenics and manic-depressive individuals, etc. This often leads to what morality I still hold intact to be slashed or slammed into, making my paranoiac machine enter a sort of hyperreactive state. I’m highly afraid of anyone who does not bleed, almost to the same extent as being afraid of those who do bleed. I’m scared that the pain will be worse later, if for the relief of the moment.  

This should show you, as best I can, what it is that creates the crush-deconstruct-abolish-free attitude I have toward modern society, as I believe love and insurrection to be the two things to free me, on a personal level, from the hellish state of becoming-useful, value-form, and the social transaction. A complete overhaul, a social insurrection, may not be a guaranteed solution to my issues, but it’s a hell of a chance, a possibility for a new existence that may free me from this bloody social state.  

While this is not traditional egoism, I’d like to express this the same way an egoist-communist would, a personal benefit fueling a benefit-all. I think that while I may have some “alternative reasoning” as compared to the traditional egoist, I feel like my reasoning for this insurrectionary communism to be based entirely on this state of being.  

The point of this is not to be a sort of theory-work but instead a justification to spark a further understanding of my ideals, and what it means to me to be an insurrectionist as I am. It’s not out of a factor of some form of perverted idealism, or some form of utopianism, it is trying to manifest what I see as my only chance to escape this sort of hole I've found myself in. This is my egoist justification to my abstractions, and why things may seem contradictory as they bend and shape into some semblance of a body of work.  

I honestly hope to reflect on most of my ideals using this realization as a basis, all to better understand the origins and capacities of my certain emotive and substantiative “ideological” movement. This can both better help me understand my anti-capitalism as it stands, and the way I can further deterritorialize my abstractions, despite being naturally deterritorial by nature of this work, and the sort of social psychosis I find myself in.  

I don’t think that capital can sell me a solution to my state of being, and the futility of such only further angers me. I don’t feel depressed over the modern state of capital like liberals or mild leftists, I feel a deep hatred and alienation of my state of being that makes my hellish brain-state locked onto my own unique egoistic anti-capitalism. My very way of being has become anti-capitalist by way of being anti-sociology of the now and fully anti-transactional, feeling that the metaphorical gore stems from these things, which is why it tends to be such a radically spiking and falling state of being.  

Unlike most people, who induce psychosis or psychological differentiation through psychoactive drugs, I find myself in a state of hyperactive paranoia and hyperactive creation of abstraction naturally, especially if I am exceedingly tired. I don’t need weed in order to tell everyone I want to destructure the societal arrangements of modern society because I already have a state of being that makes my brain hate and fear the societal arrangements of modern society. Nick Land got high in his office. I have a natural imbalance that sort of makes me fear what I could even possibly be like high. This is why I cling to such abstract notions, the outsiders of society, not just because of the lack of “gore,” but also for the feeling of being in opposition to that which causes me this paranoid, unpleasant existence of blood, psychological turmoil, and anti-societal glee-thought.  

The intent of this work is to show reason and create destructurally a logic for my understanding of the social and economic relations of the world. In a sense I am anti-sociology, I am anti-economy, but in the same breath I am so ingrained and buried in these things in ways that make them inseparable from me. A lack of an economy is defined by an economy, and therefore my thought will always revolve around the idea of the subversion of modern economic states of being and the subversion of the false authority of anyone who contends that there is no way to destructure this vile sociology that captures me and many others in this revolting state of existence. I feel nothing but disgust and perturbation for the state of the world, and this is why I have such a fuel for creation and making meaning out of unmeaning and irrationality. My ideal is a flow fueled by this existence, this reality that is nothing but filth and gore that I sit within.  

To conclude, I need to see a therapist, and I probably need a diagnosis or treatment. I don’t think this will ever fade the way I am now, and I find even the modern state of psychology as it is to be more than mildly flawed, but the state of being I find myself in sort of demands becoming subservient to this, another social machine. While I don’t know if it will make things better, I have never had the chance, and who knows how things will end up. I sincerely pose doubt, however, and I don’t think it will have enough of an effect for me to feel satisfied with my existence.  

Thank you,

Meadow Vitale