Thoughts Out to Jean-Luc Nancy

It is a shame to hear of Jean-Luc Nancy's passing. I cannot claim to be deeply familiar with his work, but I often enjoyed reading the occasional interview or article by him. What's more, as someone who had an earlier interest in Blanchot and Bataille, I naturally had an interest in the discussions on the … Continue reading Thoughts Out to Jean-Luc Nancy

Collaboration with Art of Dirt: “Dance Like Nobody is Pulling Your Strings” (Aesthetic Unconscious ep 1)

I recently had the pleasure of being asked to provide a commentary for the art of my friend who created under the pseudonym Art of Dirt. You can watch the video on YouTube (attached below) and follow their creations on other social media: http://www.instagram.com/art.o.dirt http://www.facebook.com/art.o.dirt http://www.redbubble.com/people/artofdirt https://youtu.be/u_htn7P89YM  

Mental Health Awareness Month, Repost: “Notes Of a Dirty Young Man”

As part of mental health awareness month I wanted to repost this piece that I originally wrote several years ago while I was in a state of particularly bad depression. I wrote an addendum, then later deleted it, some time afterwards because I didn’t want someone to read it without understanding the context in which … Continue reading Mental Health Awareness Month, Repost: “Notes Of a Dirty Young Man”

The Biography, The Accounting of Life, Will Come – (Blanchot, Judgement, the Question of Political Redemption)

"Proletarian revolutions criticize themselves constantly, interrupt themselves continually in their own course, come back to the apparently accomplished in order to begin it afresh, deride with unmerciful thoroughness the inadequacies, weaknesses and paltryness of their first attempts, seem to throw down their adversary only that he may draw new strength from the earth and rise … Continue reading The Biography, The Accounting of Life, Will Come – (Blanchot, Judgement, the Question of Political Redemption)

In Some Thing Called Western Civilization – A Poem

Twenty-four years come midnight. Reflecting on some forty that left the day before, across the world. God knows, One would hope. Vapid, televised, white paint running. It once mattered to, with a drop of sadness, believe in nothing. What nostalgia for weeping in these times of concrete slabs that crush us bearing selfish, despairing grins. Engraved manifestos. … Continue reading In Some Thing Called Western Civilization – A Poem