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We live automatically in pursuit of the Serotonin boost; the whole world is like this now, and I think the whole world likes itself like this way — the world of people. The world of animals, including the animal in us, is dying. We’re clearing out a desert in ourselves and on the and and on the sea: the desertification of Being. The Internet is a new Weak Force to rival gravity: it spreads underneath the function of every Mind-Object; it tugs at every act of cognition, intruding in the solemn act of cognition itself.
I don’t pretend to stand outside this force, to be the antidote, or know the antidote, for it; it is Weak, but still much stronger than me. The individual Imagination-Mind can only hope to be a kind of Satan to the Internet’s God: a heroic, slightly mad and madcap, counterforce. The new, the next, Existentialism is more tragic than the last; there are no more broad, holistic notions of Essence or Man; really, there’s just this struggling Being-Creature which wants not to look ridiculous, to claw back some of its old nobility.
The greatest sin now: to pretend you aren’t stupid (because you’re very, very stupid). We’re all quite dumb; most of us are dead inside. Why pretend otherwise? We’re in the third or fourth generation of modern industrial society; we’re at the absurd point where TV is considered deep and intellectually restorative. We all live like it’s the Sunday night before…
