Nobody will know what the fuck I’m talking about so don’t waste your time reading. This is just a marker for me and anyone else who happens to be familiar with recent Nobel prize winning philosophers, CNC machinery, the reason why time travel into the past is physically impossible, and the 19th century genius who was obsessed with trains (Boltzmann) who told us exactly why time travel into the past–or metaphorically speaking, the cure for depression–is impossible. I’m guessing that whittles the audience down to just me. In other words tl;dr
At the end of a famous book which no one has read all the way through much less understood–and the author would write another entire book about that–there is the brutal yet scientifically stunning depiction of a body in decomposition. Some dipshit “avant garde” fool with a movie camera would probably film a carcass in time lapse (ooh how fucking creative, you dumb shit) like Greenaway did, like that idiot who’s applauded by equal idiots for his idiotic film Der Todesking did, like every child who knows how to tap the time lapse button on the smartphone that mommy and daddy gave him did.
Everyone thinks it’s rad to see a dead body decompose “how marvellously gross!” Phoebe from Catcher in the Rye might say. But who really gets what’s happening? And what this means for all of us? Who the hell has read and understood that book which everyone is so busy golf-clapping that nobody realizes that nobody knows what they’re golf-clapping about?
I’m 19 pages into his follow up book which begins with an expatriated author sitting in a sticky bar in Germany, or maybe it’s Turkey, it’s unclear, laughing his ass off for 19 pages because of exactly what I just described. He’s a famous philosopher who has won international accolades for his literary genius, but nobody knows what the fuck he writes about.
Back to the agents of disintegration…
I’ve been building something for quite a while. Secretly. I reached a roadblock, whether in practical terms or in the state of my own mush brain, that forced me to ask for help in specialized forums online. This is the CNC machinery part.
Everyone was jizzing themselves at how incredible it is, how no one else had ever attempted much less come close to what I’ve accomplished so far. (“STaFU” I think to myself, “I don’t need your drool I need your answers”) but of course no one could answer the question. They were all too busy jizzing themselves at “Will you sell me that part” or “will you sell me that (other) part” or “I’ll give you (some fucking pittance) for it”
As I fade into a(n unfortunately non-)drug induced delirium from Eddie and the Cruisers:
Hey, why not do a James dean? Hit the junkyards, blowtorch Eddie’s car into little pieces for the tourist trade. Only do me a favor. Leave me out of it!
Do you see what’s happening. It’s decomposition in motion. My machine, floundering due to my inability to keep moving forward, has become a carcass. And all the agents of disintegration are salivating, not for the machine and what it can be, but but for its individual parts which, if torn down to its nuts and bolts and sold on fucking ebay, can probably pay for their dumb shit luxury vacations or an orgy of prostitutes or hiring Van Halen to play their birthday party (Fast Times at Ridgemont High, anyone?) or something equally transient an meaningless except that it’s what we’re programmed to do: break shit up. Nobody gives a damn about the singular vision I had, I still have, but cannot uphold because I’m losing my fucking mind in a sea of dumbasses who don’t understand the big picture but simply want to sink their filthy fingers into the pie and grab what they can.
The agents of disintegration are humans. As surely as if we were some septic tank dwelling bacteria that breaks down shit into tinier pieces of shit into microscopic chemicals of shit, forming a disgusting little smelly society of shit-eaters who themselves decompose into the very shit they consume, we are what we eat.