I don’t know what I’m doing. I have too much ADHD to be able to write organized thoughts. Loose associations will do; accelerations out into the space of psychosis. I believe we all have a neurosis inside us. An obsession. Solaire of Astora’s own sun. Plato’s own sun. I have my own. The obsession with creating something new, something beautiful, something free; yet the only things I can find are sunlight maggots.
All meaning has collapsed; there was never a state in which it wasn’t so, yet I still write it as a catastrophe whose aftermath we live in. The present is all that exists; the future and the past reside right there. In a self-destructive circle of eternal recurrence. Everything is dendritic cells; a rhizome. Once you have seen it, you cannot stop seeing it. The neurosis is a war machine. It seeks mappings for every micro- and macroprocess; meta-meta maps that fold into one another in an eternally evolving space; a Calabi-Yau space.
Existence is a neurosis. Madness. A demanding self-referential continuum that does everything in its power to escape itself and in the process, it only manages to become even more itself:
(i) U(0) = ℵ₀
(ii) U(n+1) = 2^(U(n)) for n ≥ 0
(iii) U(n) ↔ { U(n-1), 𝒱(U(n)), U(n+1) } for all n ∈ ℤInfinities within infinities packed into themselves, where it is also the case that every point in the universe additionally reflects the whole universe: ∀p ∈ U, U ⊆ p. It follows that even these formulas and systems are part of U. This is the aforementioned madness. We are all God’s own neurotic feedback loop; creation is an epileptic seizure. 𝄋
Scrap it. Depression philosophy on a virtual ADHD plane. This is an advertisement. You generate money just by reading further.
I lied.
Your reading is an expenditure. Even though I free-associate like a madman (you too—you who are reading, don’t think you are free from that burden; welcome to my swing. It swings, as I said, in a Calabi-Yau space, straight lines that give us both vertigo and make us seasick, it tends to be that way in multidimensional non-euclidean spaces), I never cease to fold my maps on that plane. Constant movements from the thought-object to a sling that carries the object to a new object that contains all the processes that brought it there, ad infinitum. A wave of associations. Acceleration puke in a procession—neurotic revolving doors and feedback loops; the form is an epileptic seizure.
D. S.