Heterogeneity is not so much a moral category as one of sovereignty. To think in terms of moral categories is to be thought, rather than actually to think. It is also probably to succumb to wishful thinking — the kind that posits that underneath all of the “apparent” violence and hardship, there is a force for good. Or, the kind that posits that beyond all the hardship, there is a heaven. IN both cases, to allow oneself to believe that what appears real is not actually real is a pathway back to the stability of homogeneity. To embrace what is real as real is to open oneself up to the mode of the heterogeneous.
I’m still recovering from this cold. Sleep comes easily as the mucasoid rivers flow. This kind of sleep is very rare for me, this kind of profound relaxation of the undamned. The little canals that are structurally set up to direct the mind always towards some destination of pain are averted, also flooded, also obliterated by the rushing tides of dream states. I avert dead-ends of the destiny of muttering subservience, which the mentally damaged ones allot me to, to please their sense of rigid vileness and dull conformity. Upon the fiery tides, I revisit my childhood and find it full of stardust. I reflect upon the superficial masculinists who are weepy women in their dull embrace of fathers of all stripes who require feminine subservience and a kind of masochism.I observe my social situations and see these sewers of the mind that trumped up souls have built for me, their images now floating away like wispy spirits — old fashioned ladies with parasols. I behold their insubstantiality and release all of these accumulated nasal fibres, blasting them to the seas.