The Last Word
"When you launch information you become information yourself."
Yes, it is possible to be possessed...not by demons, spirits, or other alleged supernatural entities. No, what possesses us, undermining any attempt at autonomous self-creation, is identity. This thing with no life of its own rides us to our deaths as though we were underfed, abused horses in the clutches of some hobgoblin.
In the game of insurgence--a lived guerilla war game--it is strategically necessary to use identities and roles. Unfortunately, the context of social relationships gives these roles and identities the power to define the individual who attempts to use them. So I, Feral Faun, became...an anarchist...a writer...a Stirner-influenced, post-situationist, anti-civilization theorist...if not in my own eyes, at least in the eyes of most people who've read my writings.
I took on these identities only semi-consciously, with little awareness of the pitfalls I would encounter. They did not become tools I could use to create interactions with others which integrated practice, analysis, and passion into a game of conscious insurgence and lay aside when they ceased to be useful. Rather, these identities became armors glued onto me which prevented the possibility of real interactions...replacing them with the absurd relationships of the identified in which individuals do not revel in each other's uniqueness, but rather find comfort in some shallow image of similarity. In such relationships, passion, intensity, love, amazement, cruelty, and real critical interaction have no place. The game of conscious insurgence gets replaced by a game of simulated rage and ritualized protest over all the appropriate issues--that is, the game of anarchist activism.
Well, I'm tired...tired of being ridden by the hobgoblin of identity, tired of half-assed interactions where no one really teaches anyone, tired of the simulated rage and ritualized reactivism which tries to pass itself off as insurgence, tired of social contexts which are always boxes which isolate me by naming me, tired of being information to people rather than flesh and blood and desire and passion and intensity. By the time you read this, Feral Faun will no longer be...this is the last word.