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Let me speak of three types of processes: • First, of phylogenetic processes, processes of grouping, that group existing individuals into species, classes, races, nations, tribes and other “identity groups”; • Second, of ontogenetic processes, processes of individuation, that bring individuals into existence; • Third, of heterogenetic processes, processes of dispersion, that produce potentials for individuality.

Phylogenetic processes produce groupings of individuals by processing individuals that have been produced by ontogenetic processes; ontogenetic processes produce individuals by processing potentials for individuality that have been produced by heterogenetic processes; heterogenetic processes produce themselves auto-cannibalistically and an-archically: with neither a ruling subject nor a first principle, with neither an archon (ἄρχων) nor an arche (ἀρχή), a heterogenetic process is simultaneously the consumption and the production of drift, of entropy, of noise—which is not plain and simple disorder but, rather, fortuitous (dis)order, uncertainty as to whether and what (dis)order there is, has been, or will be.

Ontogenetic processes can either be in-sync or out-of-sync with the phylogenetic processes that they fuel: producing gregarious specimens when in-sync and aberrant specimens when out-of-sync.

Similarly, heterogenetic processes can either be in-sync or out-of-sync with the ontogenetic processes that they fuel: producing probable individuals when in-sync and improbable individuals when out-of-sync.

A gregarious specimen is always a probable individual and never an improbable individual, but an aberrant specimen can be either a probable individual or an improbable individual. Or, in other words, an improbable individual that is taken up by a phylogenetic process always becomes an aberrant specimen, but a probable individual that is taken up by a phylogenetic process may become either an aberrant specimen or a gregarious specimen. This is because an ontogenetic process that is out-of-sync with the heterogenetic process that fuels it will be driven out-of-sync with any phylogenetic process that follows it; by contrast, an ontogenetic process that is in-sync with the heterogenetic process that fuels it may or may not be out-of-sync with any phylogenetic process that follows it.

Previously, I used the term “phantasms” in order to acknowledge my debt to Pierre Klossowski’s work, but, using the terms above, what I am interested in are the “improbable individuals” produced by ontogenetic processes that are out-of-sync with the heterogenetic processes that fuel them. To “become conscious of one’s phantasms” is to recognize the improbable individuals amongst the aberrant specimens of an identity that, either by choice or by circumstance, one has assumed. Becoming conscious of phantasms, recognizing improbable individuals, is one thing; consciously (re)creating phantasms, propagating improbable individuals, is another, altogether more challenging thing; and performing my philosophy—that is, performing my cynicism, my libertinism, my anarchism—means both becoming conscious of phantasms and consciously (re)creating phantasms, both recognizing improbable individuals and propagating improbable individuals.

As a cynic, libertine, and anarchist, as a champion of “useless genius”, I favor "improbable aberrations": I favor the few improbable individuals to be found amongst aberrant specimens of an assumed identity, the products of ontogenetic processes that are (i) out-of-sync with the heterogenetic processes that fuel them and (ii) out-of-sync with the phylogenetic processes that regard them as fuel.

By turns my ally and my enemy, the liberal critic, the champion of the indeterminate “masses”, is one who favors "probable aberrations": the liberal critic favors the many probable individuals to be found amongst aberrant specimens of an assumed identity, the products of ontogenetic processes that are (i) in-sync with the heterogenetic processes that fuel them and (ii) out-of-sync with the phylogenetic processes that regard them as fuel.

Forever inimical to me, the illiberal reactionary, the champion of a determinate collective identity (e.g., a species, a class, a race, a nation, a tribe), is one who favors “probable gregarities”: the illiberal reactionary favors the gregarious specimens of an assumed identity, the products of ontogenetic processes that are (i) in-sync with the heterogenetic processes that fuel them and (ii) in-sync with the phylogenetic processes that regard them as fuel.

By turns my ally and my enemy, the killjoy champions improbable individuals, the products of ontogenetic processes that are out-of-sync with the heterogenetic processes that fuel them, but the killjoy also reviles the improbable individual for being an aberration, for not being gregarious. No individual will ever win the favors of the killjoy: the killjoy despises individuals who are gregarious because they not improbable but the killjoy also despises individuals who are improbable because they are not gregarious.

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The surest proof that philosophers write so that they needn’t dare to live is that they write long books and expect others to read them closely. Knowing this, I have written two rather brief books without the expectation that others will bother to read them at all.

Borges’ diagnosis of the writer’s situation has always struck me as the most incisive one, “Writing long books is a laborious and impoverishing act of foolishness: expanding in five hundred pages an idea that could be perfectly explained in a few minutes. A better procedure is to pretend that those books already exist and to offer a summary, a commentary.” All philosophers who write long books know, consciously or unconsciously, that Borges’ diagnosis is the most magnificent rebuke of their way of life. If a given philosopher writes a lengthy book it is either because (i) that philosopher doesn’t have the daring to live or (ii) that philosopher is paradoxically daring to live by writing. I find that the former is almost always the case: almost all philosophers who write volumes of truths are avoiding ever having to dare. Indeed, as far as I can tell, the Marquis de Sade is the only philosopher who managed a paradox and dared to live by writing interminable books.

As I will not pursue the singular case of the Marquis de Sade here, let it suffice to say that Pierre Klossowski’s 1966 essay on Sade, “The Philosopher Villain”, is the crucial reading of Sade from my perspective: the reading that taught me to recognize how “the sensory nature of the aberrant act” was actualized in Sade’s writing.

Moving on, yes, I shall regard Sade as a great inspiration for as long as writing is a part of my philosophy but, in so far as writing is only a part of a whole that is to-be-performed, my greatest inspiration shall have to be Diogenes the Cynic. Diogenes is the philosopher-performer par excellence: he acted out his own philosophy in such a remarkable manner that today, millennia after his death, we can still (re)create his philosophy from apocryphal anecdotes regarding his antics. That is why I consider Diogenes the only philosopher worth taking up as a role model and rival. Of course, it is a most absurd proposition that a fellow like me could ever emulate and rival Diogenes in this day and age, but the best role models and rivals are those that motivate us to test the most absurd propositions. So, as I endeavor to elaborately stage the philosophy that I have written down in brief, I intend to ask myself the same absurd question at every juncture, “Here and now, how can I do what Diogenes did two millennia before me and do it better than Diogenes ever did?”

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WHAT’S NEW March 1, 2020

Several substantial sections have been added to my New Cartography of the Sciences, sections that explore fluxes and fields of time, matter, and memory. This project exists as a living document here. I cannot stress enough the fact that, no matter how much time I put into it, my New Cartography shall remain a patchwork of aphoristic notes, essayistic fragments, and rough outlines — I do not intend to complete this project in any way, shape, or form and I have tried to explain my reasons for this elsewhere.

Ylfa and I participated in the 2020 Post-Human Network Symposium. We took to the “Motion Analysis Lab / Intelligent Stage” at the Synthesis Center at Arizona State University, to test drive The Gift and the Ledger, a collaborative “theatrical research” spun off from to my New Cartography and from Ylfa’s work on mycorrhizal symbiosis in forest ecosystems. Information regarding this project can be found here. Many thanks go to our fantastic collaborators, Brandon Mechtley and Garrett Laroy Johnson, who tuned the remarkable technical apparatus at the Synthesis Center in the most marvelous ways in order to make sensuous the excesses that we were researching. Thanks also go to the participant spect-actors who brought the workshop to life.

I’ve been working on an essay titled Investigations of a Dog; Or, the Integrity of the Cynic. This essay is deeply indebted to the work of a friend of mine, Jonathan Agins. His work and his friendship has had a remarkable influence on much of the work that I do, but this new work of mine owes more to Jonathan than most because this new work was initially a direct response to a work-in-progess that Jonathan shared with me. The preliminary notes and rough drafts of my Investigations of a Dog can be found here.

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WHAT'S NEW January 1, 2020

I have been hard at work on my magnum opus, my New Cartography of the Sciences. This project exists as a living document here. Minor additions, revisions, and updates are being made to this living document almost daily and major new sections are being appended to this document almost every fortnight. I shall, of course, be working on my New Cartography for the rest of my life but, as I have already noted elsewhere, no matter how much time I put into it, my New Cartography shall remain a patchwork of aphoristic notes, essayistic fragments, and rough outlines — I do not intend to complete this project in any way, shape, or form. More or less "complete" projects are to be spun off from these notes, fragments, and outlines. Indeed, three such spin-offs are already in the works.

The first spin-off that is in production is, to use a phrase coined by Peter Brook, a collaborative "theatrical research" entitled The Gift and the Ledger. An abstract of this project can be found here.

The second spin-off that is in production is a philosophical intervention in the life sciences, engaging with the discourses that theorize biopolitics, biopower, and biotechnology. This project is entitled Biology, Biometrics, and the Ends of Deformity. An abstract of this project can be found here.

The third spin-off that is in production is an experiment in autofiction entitled Experience and Ecstasy. This project, which employs my New Cartography as a guide, is the diary of my attempts to concretely essay a cluster of psycho-sociological theories have been abstractly essayed here on this blog and in my Triptych.

Indeed, it should be noted that the germs for all four of the projects discussed above are to be found in my recently published Triptych. I beseech you — hypocrite reader, my dissembler, my other — to purchase a copy of my latest book from Barnes & Noble or to have the courage to ask me to gift you a copy.

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The “looking forward” text below is both a follow up to an earlier “looking backward” text and the continuation of an earlier "looking forward" text. The two preceding texts can be found together here alongside the text below.

So, there is, first and foremost, a market for my works to be found amongst those creative spirits who are compelled by circumstance to play the academic but are sick and tired of scholarship. Aye, but there is also a market for my works to be found amongst those creative spirits who are compelled by circumstance to play the leftist but are sick and tired of movement building.

An ivory tower is the first and best refuge of a philosophical scoundrel, yes, but a radical leftist milieu is the serviceable second best refuge. Indeed, from 2010 to 2014, having come to the conclusion that my philosophical predilections were inimical to life in an ivory tower but still afraid of openly philosophizing for myself and other useless weywards like me, I fancied myself something of a radical leftwing intellectual. Clearly, there was no place for me amongst the intellectuals of the right—conservatism, nationalism, traditionalism, etc. are dire foes of freethinking and unbridled philosophical creativity—but it seemed to me that my philosophical predilections made me a fellow traveler on the intellectual left—the radical, anarchist, anti-utilitarian, romantic left. Of course, I soon discovered that, while many radical leftists talk a great deal about a future in which freethinking and philosophical creation are valued and cherished, most radical leftists do not engage in much freethinking and philosophical creation themselves: movement building always comes first, freethinking and philosophical creation always come later. I really do understand why this is the case for the radical leftist and I do not begrudge them their priorities, however misguided I find them. I only want to note that my priorities are different from theirs and that it took me while to realize that this was the case.

I was constantly being accused of "putting the cart before the horse" during the years that I flirted with the radical left. I would ask my comrades, “Why should we put off freethinking and wild philosophical creation until we have taught the masses to value them? If we value free thinking and philosophical creation, why not lead by example and engage in freethinking and philosophical creation by and for ourselves inasmuch as we can?” – And my comrades would rebuke me, “There can be no freethinking and philosophical creation until the masses can and do learn the value of freethinking and philosophical creation. Until then, it is all fake, a forgery: there is only the bourgeois illusion of freethinking and philosophical creation that benefits the few at the expense of the masses.” – A rebuke to which I have learned to respond, “Fake can be just as good.” – Indeed, you find me expressing remarkable lessons learnt from my flirtations with the radical left when you find me championing dis-sembling, dis-simulation, farce and the craft of the actor in my writings.

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The “looking forward” text below is a follow up to an earlier “looking backward” text that you can find here.

With the publication of my Triptych, the “practical” question on my mind is this, “How can I discover and nurture non-academic and para-academic markets for my finished works and my works-in-progress?”

You see, I know very well that my work is likely to mean little to those who are not devotees of radically and rigorously conceptual arts and letters, and I know very well that few devotees of radically and rigorously conceptual arts and letters survive outside of the academy long past the age of thirty-five, but I still want to create and discover a market for my work amongst mature, non-academic and para-academic actors. This means that I must discover and nurture rather rare and disobliging creatures: radically and rigorously conceptual artists and writers with the mettle and/or the wherewithal to forsake the academy.

Why do most radically and rigorously conceptual artists and writers join the academy? Ask any creative academic why and they are sure to answer the question very much like Tom Boland did in his musings on the “University as an Intellectual Asylum”:

Implicitly, we came to the university seeking refuge from utilitarianism, functionality, market logics, banality, tradition, conformity, consumerism, capitalism, patriarchy or the racial state. Perhaps our lives weren’t threatened, but the life of the mind that we develop while we are here could not be sustained outside its hallowed walls.

Scholarly excellence has led to a sort of dependence on the university; specialisation in academia and little else renders us reliant on this asylum for our income and our identity. The winners of the intellectual game are rewarded financially, but cannot really leave the game.

Beyond our income, our identity is reliant on the institution; in the digital era anyone can see what you write, where you publish it and how frequently you are cited. Publication is a panopticon. Keeping a foothold in this game, not to mention chasing rainbows for the crock of gold called research funding, requires that we dedicate our lives to academia or fall behind.

Of course, many of us scorn certain forms of academic research, especially in this era of academic over-production, so that many papers are never cited, and celebrity theorists become magnets for all references. But, no matter what we most abhor in academia, there’s almost certainly someone somewhere who despises us in turn. The notion that much of this is an insiders’ game, written in impenetrable jargon, with miniscule stakes, in an unending clamour is a philistine argument, from which intellectuals seek asylum. Yet without philistinism, we should all consider if there is anyone who would find our ideas meaningful, howsoever communicated, if we did not have colleagues to impress and students to confuse."

So, scholarship is a pretense that intellectuals deploy in order to protect themselves form "philistinism". OK, but, from my perspective, the perspective of the creative philosopher, the pretense of scholarship is a double edged sword: the pretense of scholarship enervates the creative spirit to the very same degree that the pretense scholarship is regarded as a permanent and stationary refuge from "philistinism", as opposed to a temporary and mobile refuge.

Noting the above, if I am to discover and nurture non-academic and para-academic markets for my work, the onus is on me to sway creative scholars and would-be scholars towards my perspective: to persuade them, by hook or by crook, that, if they value creation above all else, they should treat scholarship as a temporary mobile refuge as opposed to a permanent station and, what’s more, they should endeavor, as best they can, to live out in the open, to make a living outside of the academy as radically and rigorously conceptual artists and writers, unafraid of unmediated encounters with the "philistines" that they find so intimidating. Aye, and I shouldn’t just persuade scholars and would-be scholars to do so with constative arguments; over and above all else, I should endeavor to persuade them with performative arguments, with my own attempts at doing what precisely what I am asking them to do.

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More than decade ago, sometime in the year 2008, I decided to devote my life to philosophy: not to the study of philosophy but, rather, to the doing of philosophy. I was twenty-one and the one thing that I had become certain of during my brief time haunting the ivory towers, thinking amongst professors and students of philosophy, was that studying philosophy does not make one a philosopher, just like studying wolves does not make one a wolf. Of course, I recognized that many great philosophers were also scholars of philosophy, but I also recognized that most scholars of philosophy weren’t philosophers. Indeed, I had just read Deleuze and Guattari’s What is Philosophy? for the first time and had learned to recognize a philosopher in their activity: a philosopher being somebody who creates concepts with whatever can be found ready-to-hand. Scholars of philosophy study concepts and their creators, philosophers create their own concepts.

New concepts are, of course, created from old concepts, meaning that the philosopher must immerse themselves in others’ concepts in order to create their own—but the scholar of philosophy, by contrast, does not immerse themselves in others’ concepts in order to create. Nay, creating concepts is not a scholarly endeavor: the scholar describes, domesticates, monitors, cages, slaughters, butchers, processes and packages concepts and creators of concepts—the scholar ceases to be a scholar the moment they venture to create concepts of their own. There is nothing wrong with scholars and scholarship in general, of course, I only disparage them insofar as they are taken for philosophers and philosophy, respectively, and stand in the way of creative philosophers and the creative adventure that is philosophy. In any case, having come to the conclusion that creation has little to do with scholarship, and having determined that I had a taste for creation and a distaste for scholarship, I forsook the ivory towers and decided to do philosophy “my way.”

More than a decade since I abandoned scholarship to pursue my quixotic dream unbridled philosophical creation, I now realize why so many philosophers are also scholars of philosophy. Philosophers have to make a living and, while there isn’t much of a market for wild, living, breathing concepts, there is quite a market is for scholarly products, for domesticated concepts and the processed remains of dead concepts. The philosopher-cum-scholar is one who creates their own concepts, as a philosopher, and then, as a scholar, proceeds to domesticate, slaughter, butcher, process and package their own concepts, producing scholarly products for which there is a demand. While I still have a distaste for domesticating, slaughtering, butchering, processing and packaging concepts for sale, I am not a man of leisure: creating concepts is incredibly hard work and my circumstances are such that it is madness for me to work hard, so very hard, and receive no income for it. My circumstances are such that I am compelled to either (i) take up a profession that leaves me spare time to do philosophy “my way” or (ii) grit through my distaste and become a scholar. The second path might seem a better option at first, but the path to becoming a scholar is not only distasteful to me, it is likely to impoverish me further: the time and money that I must invest to become a scholar of philosophy is more time and money than I have and more than I am practically able to borrow. To grit through my distaste only in order to impoverish myself further is a most unappealing prospect. I would much rather find a profession that is more to my taste and use whatever spare time that profession leaves me to philosophize.

Then again, however, oughtn’t I try to find a third way, oughtn’t I try to make my own circumstances, oughtn’t I try to discover or create a market for myself and the wild concepts that I have created and would continue to create? Aye, I ought to, and this is precisely what my philosophy challenges me to do. Indeed, if I am to give life to my own concept of “(re)creative libidinal economy”, I ought to endeavor to continually discover and create ever new and ever different markets for myself and my wild concepts, knowing full well that I may fail to discover and create any market at all. — I know, I know, I ought to, but the problem is, of course, that I find such an endeavor absolutely terrifying. It would be so much easier and safer for me to let circumstances decide my fate and take up some existing profession, whether it be the distasteful profession of the scholar or another profession a little more to my taste. Is it not sheer folly to market myself as a philosopher without the safety net of being a professional scholar of philosophy to fall back on?

Aye, well then, a toast, “To sheer folly!”

My soon to be published Triptych is simultaneously the culmination of ten years of doing philosophy “my way” and the repudiation of how I’ve gone about doing philosophy “my way” for the past ten years. From 2008 through 2018, I did philosophy my way, yes, but with a bad conscience: doing philosophy “my way” during that time meant self-deception and self-flagellation. When I call out my enemies in my Triptych—the traditionalists, the critics, the defeatists, the conformers, the reformers, the deformers, the exhausted, the loathed and loathing, the cliché psychoanalysts, the capitalists, the reactionaries, the killjoys, the probable specimens, etc.—I call them out knowing that each and every one of them is an avatar of myself, rather than a stand in for someone else. I wanted to do philosophy “my way” but, for ten years, I stood in my own way in the guise of one or another these avatars. In order to work up the courage to market myself as a philosopher, and to do so without feeling ashamed of not being a scholar, I have worked hard to lay each of these avatars to rest, and my Triptych is my monument to my labors. But while my Triptych marks a triumph for me, it also marks my terror at having to “get on with it”: the great game of shamelessly marketing myself and my wild concepts is now fully afoot.

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I want to take a moment to acknowledge the event that I am memorializing with the publication of my Triptych. I call this event, my “corporeal turn”, for it is characterized by a shift in my focus away from verbal expressions of thought and towards corporeal expressions of thought. My Triptych tells the story of this turn: the first book, Whither, Otherwise, was written before the corporeal turn but anticipates the turn; the second book, Solutions for Postmodern Living, marked the unconscious beginning of the turn; and the third and final book, Improbable Aberrations & Other Idiocies, marks my conscious realization of the turn.

With my Triptych heading to the presses this week, I have written a short text for myself that considers what this corporeal turn means for my thinking moving forward. The text can be found here.