my family has the insipid blood of canadians and the photocopied minds of christians. realizing early i couldn’t escape this mindless pedestrian heritage, i vowed to enter into it more fully than any of my ancestors had done, than any of my descendants dared. i would turn my pedestrianism into flaneurism, i would destroy my mind and wander in the orgy of signs. i would copy everything.
the great benefit of canada, i thought, is that it’s a vast nothingness heaped on nothingness, a concatenation of nothering, a self-satisfied insecurity, the very dream of humanity that reveals the vapour of the dream, the incarnate end of hope.
the great benefit of christianity is that it’s dead, has always been dead, and is the energy and glory of death. a hideous distortion of reality to make illusion palatable to the masses and thus the masses become illusion, it contains all the necessary tricks for one who has given up illusion to use it as a fuel source for assorted tricks.
the strategy was risky i knew from the outset. death, madness, wholesale failure, poverty – all these i assumed. the key was how to delay them until i had sufficiently reached the abyss of my nation, the emptiness of my religion – until i saw … no … knew, deeply in my flesh … them both as overcooked cheap pasta and thus all things become possible.
the destruction of one’s self is the only creation that presents itself to us. we must commit ourselves to it with the zeal of pigeons.
blood isn’t what it used to be. we now synthesize it in the laboratory of ourselves to become what our past was not by becoming wholly what it is.
we are only play. dark play on the infinite board of endless ways.
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