Tangents to my research: 1) intuition as Stieglerian savoir-faire; 2) knowledge conditions restructuring themselves to support the data economy; 3) psychedelics as the permanent exception; the psychedelic mind as the sovereign or the philosopher-king. Schmitt and Plato.

Writing names like Everina Teopisca and Clarabel Yarrow in drunk penmanship. Making Everina and Clarabel live what I don’t have the money for. Realizing the title of my dissertation should be under eight words long.

I thought that writing was the needle’s eye. Life will be okay once the thread comes out on the other side. I think I should only write what I’ve seen.

Neo-Nazis in Poland spending an entire temperate Saturday spitting at queer youth; their wives draping homophobic tapestries from the highest floors of their plattenbaus. In rural Scotland the thinnest of sky-membranes wraps itself around the sun. My verbose nephew. My twin who can’t talk in any normal sense of the word. Who’s never used the internet and never will. Now everyone has some awareness of the autism spectrum. It wasn’t that way in the 90s.

When my parents can’t anymore, I’ll be their guardians. Keeper of two brothers. I don’t know if I’ll ever write about it.

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