Concrete Music

“…our aim is to elaborate an even more determinate, ever richer concept of contingency. Accordingly, every difficulty encountered by factial speculation should be converted into a means for identifying a determinate condition of chaos capable of allowing us to overcome the obstacle. This is the basic principle of a reason that has been emancipated from the principle of reason – its progressive unfolding demands that we exhibit the positive and differentiated properties of the absence of reason.” – Quentin Meillassoux

When we aim to rupture the state we must not use the tools of the state; the unstate is  unreason; the unreason works with the tools of the void; the Real of the unseen, uncaptured, undigested, contingently concrete; What would it mean to practice, to create, concrete music? Is it possible to ground the universal conditions for such a music? only if the figure of the concrete remains bound to the reflection of its infinity; let’s not get trapped in the expected unexpected; O fuck; not that again; the shock, the surprise, the contradiction and the reduction, the stripping and cutting, the remolding and denouncing of the denounciation, None of that again; all of that has gone to rot; it has bred into the cancerous outgrowth of the undead; it feeds the undead; it breeds the undead; it keeps the rot growing; the concrete has to be pulled from the blindspot of the real; to the Real; it must grow into its own, independent universal infinite; it must free the voice and set it to the logics of its unfolding; The substance is depleted; it never was; the substance is the relations, it only is in the relation; without it, it is not; how can we aim towards new relations? The networks must be untangled from the knot of privilege; the knot will be cut; the privilege is nothing, but the conservation, the violent captivity; untangle the knot of the king; king is for the subject, subject is of the king; subject breaks, king melts into the air;

When we aim we aim out; aiming in is unbearably welcome; out is infinite; let them have the in; after all the captor looks best in its own cell; the shit can always be masked with perfume

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