The Privatization of Mental Illness

One of the most excellent parts of Mark Fisher's "Capitalist Realism" is his writing about the privatization of mental illness--the gradual shift away from thinking of psychological issues as something that arise within a social body, due to social conditions, and toward thinking of mental illness as something that has to do solely with an individual body's fluctuations in neurochemicals.
The dominant ideology that correlates to the dominant psychiatric practices and theory is neoliberalism.  Under this neoliberal psychiatric model, an individual's mental illness is due to abnormal levels of neurotransmitters that can be brought under control by the continuous intervention of psychiatric meds.  Psychoanalysis, whatever its flaws (and there are quite a few flaws) at least thought of the individual's mental illness as arising from fundamentally social causes.  But under neoliberalism, mental illness is solely the individual's fault.
I had a breakdown the ot…

Idiocracy and the Abandonment of the Future

I recently watched the Mike Judge movie "Idiocracy" for the first time.  I have mixed feelings about the movie, but it is a very important cultural touchstone to view contemporary fears and desires regarding the future.
In "Idiocracy," a perfectly average-IQ Air Force private and an average-IQ civilian (prostitute) are selected for a hibernation experiment, which is forgotten about, and they wake up 500 years later.
The future is basically a dysgenic, consumerist Malthusian nightmare in which poor, dumb people have bred at higher rates than smart, bourgeois, cultured people, resulting in a caricature of globalized American consumer culture, dumbed down even more--think monster truck rallies combined with capital punishment, etc.
The movie is so full of actual liberal-elitist resentment toward proles and lumpenproletariat and their supposed stupidity and anti-intellectualism that it seems to scream "Mike Judge got beat up in middle school/high school for being …


This afternoon, I passed by a man on a ladder who was working on the box store, cutting the rock with a machine.  The rock was screaming, splitting the air while it was being split--it sounded like grey-stacked neurons crying out of their own dryness.  My head was full of that same dryness and I couldn’t sleep.  I was contemplating suicide for reasons far more pragmatic than I had ever hoped.  I would rather exit than die of this thirst.  I couldn’t breathe, and my head was full of this suffocation--it permeated my entire body and consciousness. My mind has become a wet, ragged cloth.  Time is power I can’t access.  I am a slow drowner.  I keep lagging--hope always comes to a different time zone.  Remember that time the USPS sent you a love letter I wrote before I died, three years late?  We have had quite a journey.  I remember when I died and was denied entry to my own funeral, it was because I had forgot my glasses. A stratocaster is like an ak-47, an appropriate technology.  The w…


There are some things that Cannot be undone

I am not one Of them.

I can be undone like the Top button on your blouse

The night we touched each Other with fever for the first time

Listen, I could say.   But then with What would I follow?  Nothing, but the

Dumb weight of the silence that spelled my Inability to make anything all right.

The air chokes me with its Blind, silver soundlessness, heavy

With lead and milk.  I Could say that I want your help.

Clearly, I’m sick.  There’s a tumor In my mind.  It’s nearly red, stained

Black--it is choked on its own Humour.  But it is too late to make



all the parts of me which weren’t supposed to, harden--      turn cold as a     midnight sun, reptilian    underneath
Everything is grey, everything has already happened, time speeds forward with a blended   monochrome hum

All I eat tastes like hospital food
Our conversation is similarly compressed, the syllables made short and hard like bursts from a rifle--perhaps the kalashnikov that you have a fear of, the



I used to think that I was a parasite.  That's probably true, but lately I've been getting sucked dry by various parasites.  Thinking of this song...
In Capital, Marx is writing a gothic horror story.  Capital is dead labor, capitalists are vampiric entities.  
Even people not acting within a typical capitalist management-labor relationship can act with the same capitalist desire and the same over-consumptive drive, as the above.  
People have been taught to believe that love is the same as consumption.  According to this model, love is obsessive, insomniac, needy.  It has no regard for the limits of human bodies.

Capitalist desire as demonology--the body is just a shell that capital uses and discards, moves on to possess other bodies.

I can tell you this much, I have my cross ready and I'm ready to do whatever it takes to throw all of you demons out!

Here are some songs I wrote for the demons
you can …

Insomnia as Debt--Hypostition as Hibernation

This will be the briefest post I've written, and I don't think I need to elaborate on any of this in detail until a later date.

1.  Sleep is sacred.  From a psycho-analytic perspective, an inability to sleep is actually a symptom of an inability to properly dream.  It is a problem of the barriers between the conscious and the subconscious.
(Ogden,  Bion           )

2.  Sleep is one of the last barriers which capital has not eroded.   The other one being death.  I'm no Heideggerian/anarcho-primitivist, but it seems like there are some things that are natural that are good, and I'm not totally anti-human yet.  (And let's consider that becoming-cyborg isn't necessarily becoming anti-human but becoming an integration of human with technology in a broad sense. ), Which is why I am concerned with the possibility of erosion of sleep.  24/7 temporality is a deterritorializaiton of sleep.  Yes, it's still impossible to do away totally with sleep, but we're wor…