Monthly Archives: November 2014

I want to share this short section from an essay I wrote for college on Nozick’s ‘entitlement theory’. It justifies, I think, the best response to the tedious rationalism of libertarians everywhere: “Fuck off, I don’t care.”

Let us say, for the sake of argument, that no rational objection against Nozick’s philosophy can be sustained. What status, then, are we to give the horror we feel at the suffering and inequality in the world, and the sense of the absurdity of the notion that such suffering could result from a situation that would be called just? What status, further, are we to give our own refusals to be condemned to misery and alienation and indignity? By what force can a philosophy compel our fidelity to its precepts? If it is proven somewhere that a rationally-derived morality compels our inaction in the face of another’s suffering, or declares our own suffering just, then so much the worse for rationality and morality, surely? This is, I admit, a nihilist objection, but it is surely a superior nihilism to that which would repress caring impulses, sever solidarities, and resign us to inaction in the face of suffering in the name of Reason.


I wish I could
inhabit music
swim in it
let it permeate
feel it flow through me
like a current
a great destructive wave
that tears my bones asunder
strips away my flesh
discarded: useless
what good is a body
to pure intensity
a swirling maelstrom
of abstraction
before language
that knows nothing
of the turgid play of signs
just the brutality of drums
that clatter and rush
or a lonely sentinel bleep bleep
a gliding foggy effervescence
that adresses itself to an empty night
and expresses everything without meaning.

Everything’s positive here
the migrane squeal of a vicious machine
or the lulling of a womb
the ghosts of bells
and fulsome rushes of fingered notes
their surface leaping, live
with molecular struggle
it all collides here
all the colours and moods dance
etching their baroque patterns
curious, without fidelity
just the promiscuity of unbounded codes
genes coming apart, unravelling
meeting strange isotopes, sinister viruses
drugged up floods from the future
and embracing, happily
no zeros in this world
silence too is penetrated
coloured, enriched
and can no longer feel empty.

But no
I am here
corporeal, exact, tactile
drab air in my lungs
bald light, too yellow for comfort
a world of things and whispered demands
of sharp corners and subtle knives
the music caresses me here and there
and breathes its world into me for a moment
but I cannot become it
only swing hostile limbs
perturb my throat
softly bludgeon brain against skull
but I’m too real for it
and it swims away
leaving me