                                            
T. A. Z.
The Temporary Autonomous Zone, Ontological Anarchy, Poetic
Terrorism
Hakim Bey
Autonomedia
Anti-copyright, 1985, 1991. May be freely pirated & quoted--
the author & publisher, however, would like to be informed
at:
Autonomedia
P. O. Box 568
Williamsburgh Station
Brooklyn, NY 11211-0568
Book design & typesetting: Dave Mandl
Printed in the United States of America

[ This document was created from the original typesetting files for TAz and
  it is not a transcription. Because of this, there should be no errors in 
  the text that were not put there by the author. If any are found, please
  contact mimir@u.washington.edu (Grendel Grettisson) and report them since
  he was the last of the editors to go over the document and has the master
  ASCII text copy. No changes were made in this document except for the
  addition of extra blank lines between paragraphs when necessary for
  readability as a text file (as opposed to a book) and the substitution of 
  underscores ('_') around and between words and phrases in the place of
  italics, which cannot be shown in ASCII text. ]


CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS, _vii_

CHAOS: THE BROADSHEETS OF ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHISM, _1_
Chaos, _3_; Poetic Terrorism, _4_; Amour Fou, _6_; Wild
Children, _8_; Paganism, _9_; Art Sabotage, _11_; The
Assassins, _13_; Pyrotechnics, _14_; Chaos Myths, _15_;
Pornography, _19_; Crime, _21_; Sorcery, _22_;
Advertisement,  _24_

COMMUNIQUES OF THE ASSOCIATION FOR ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHY, _25_
Communique #1: I. Slogans & Mottos for Subway Graffiti &
Other Purposes, _27_; II. Some Poetic-Terrorist Ideas Still
Sadly Languishing in the Realm of "Conceptual Art," _28_;
Communique #2: The Kallikak Memorial Bolo & Chaos Ashram: A
Proposal, _30_; Communique #3: Haymarket Issue, _32_;
Communique #4: The End of the World, _33_; Communique #5:
"Intellectual S/M Is the Fascism of the Eighties--The Avant-
Garde Eats Shit and Likes It," _36_; Communique #6: I. Salon
Apocalypse: "Secret Theater," _39_; II. Murder--War--Famine-
-Greed, _41_; Communique #7: Psychic Paleolithism & High
Technology: A Position Paper, _43_; Communique #8: Chaos
Theory & the Nuclear Family, _47_; Communique #9: Double-Dip
Denunciations, _48_; Communique #10: Plenary Session Issues
New Denunciations--Purges Expected, _50_; Communique #11:
Special Holiday Season Food Issue Rant: Turn Off the Lite!,
_53_; Special Halloween Communique: Black Magic as
Revolutionary Action, _56_; Special Communique: A.O.A.
Announces Purges in Chaos Movement, _59_; Post-Anarchism
Anarchy, _61_; Black Crown & Black Rose: Anarcho-Monarchism
& Anarcho-Mysticism, _64_; Instructions for the Kali Yuga,
_72_; Against the Reproduction of Death, _75_; Ringing
Denunciation of Surrealism, _78_; For a Congress of Weird
Religions, _80_; Hollow Earth, _84_; Nietzsche & the
Dervishes, _86_; Resolution for the 1990's: Boycott Cop
Culture!!!, _90_

THE TEMPORARY AUTONOMOUS ZONE, _95_
Pirate Utopias, _97_; Waiting for the Revolution, _99_; The
Psychotopology of Everyday Life, _102_; The Net and the Web,
_108_; "Gone to Croatan," _116_; Music as an Organizational
Principle, _124_; The Will To Power as Disappearance, _128_;
Ratholes in the Babylon of Information, _132_; Appendix A:
Chaos Linguistics, _135_; Appendix B: Applied Hedonics,
_137_; Appendix C: Extra Quotes, _138_

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

_CHAOS:_THE_BROADSHEETS_OF_ONTOLOGICAL_ANARCHISM_ was first
published in 1985 by Grim Reaper Press of Weehawken, New
Jersey; a later re-issue was published in Providence, Rhode
Island, and this edition was pirated in Boulder, Colorado.
Another edition was released by Verlag Golem of Providence
in 1990, and pirated in Santa Cruz, California, by We Press.
"The Temporary Autonomous Zone" was performed at the Jack
Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics in Boulder, and on
WBAI-FM in New York City, in 1990.
Thanx to the following publications, current and defunct, in
which some of these pieces appeared (no doubt I've lost or
forgotten many--sorry!): _KAOS_ (London); _Ganymede_
(London); _Pan_ (Amsterdam); _Popular_Reality_;
_Exquisite_Corpse_ (also _Stiffest_of_the_Corpse_, City
Lights); _Anarchy_ (Columbia, MO); _Factsheet_Five_;
_Dharma_Combat_; _OVO_; _City_Lights_Review_;
_Rants_and_Incendiary_Tracts_ (Amok); _Apocalypse_Culture_
(Amok); _Mondo_2000_; _The_Sporadical_; _Black_Eye_;
_Moorish_Science_Monitor_; _FEH!_; _Fag_Rag_; _The_Storm!_;
_Panic_ (Chicago); _Bolo_Log_ (Zurich); _Anathema_;
_Seditious_Delicious_; _Minor_Problems_ (London); _AQUA_;
_Prakilpana_.
Also, thanx to the following individuals: Jim Fleming; James
Koehnline; Sue Ann Harkey; Sharon Gannon; Dave Mandl; Bob
Black; Robert Anton Wilson; William Burroughs; "P.M."; Joel
Birroco; Adam Parfrey; Brett Rutherford; Jake Rabinowitz;
Allen Ginsberg; Anne Waldman; Frank Torey; Andr. Codrescu;
Dave Crowbar; Ivan Stang; Nathaniel Tarn; Chris Funkhauser;
Steve Englander; Alex Trotter.
--March, 1991

CHAOS: THE BROADSHEETS OF ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHISM
(Dedicated to Ustad Mahmud Ali Abd al-Khabir)

Chaos

CHAOS NEVER DIED. Primordial uncarved block, sole worshipful
monster, inert & spontaneous, more ultraviolet than any
mythology (like the shadows before Babylon), the original
undifferentiated oneness-of-being still radiates serene as
the black pennants of Assassins, random & perpetually
intoxicated.

Chaos comes before all principles of order & entropy, it's
neither a god nor a maggot, its idiotic desires encompass &
define every possible choreography, all meaningless aethers
& phlogistons: its masks are crystallizations of its own
facelessness, like clouds.

Everything in nature is perfectly real including
consciousness, there's absolutely nothing to worry about.
Not only have the chains of the Law been broken, they never
existed; demons never guarded the stars, the Empire never
got started, Eros never grew a beard.

No, listen, what happened was this: they lied to you, sold
you ideas of good & evil, gave you distrust of your body &
shame for your prophethood of chaos, invented words of
disgust for your molecular love, mesmerized you with
inattention, bored you with civilization & all its usurious
emotions.

There is no becoming, no revolution, no struggle, no path;
already you're the monarch of your own skin--your inviolable
freedom waits to be completed only by the love of other
monarchs: a politics of dream, urgent as the blueness of
sky.

To shed all the illusory rights & hesitations of history
demands the economy of some legendary Stone Age--shamans not
priests, bards not lords, hunters not police, gatherers of
paleolithic laziness, gentle as blood, going naked for a
sign or painted as birds, poised on the wave of explicit
presence, the clockless nowever.

Agents of chaos cast burning glances at anything or anyone
capable of bearing witness to their condition, their fever
of _lux_et_voluptas_. I am awake only in what I love &
desire to the point of terror--everything else is just
shrouded furniture, quotidian anaesthesia, shit-for-brains,
sub-reptilian ennui of totalitarian regimes, banal
censorship & useless pain.

Avatars of chaos act as spies, saboteurs, criminals of amour
fou, neither selfless nor selfish, accessible as children,
mannered as barbarians, chafed with obsessions, unemployed,
sensually deranged, wolfangels, mirrors for contemplation,
eyes like flowers, pirates of all signs & meanings.

Here we are crawling the cracks between walls of church
state school & factory, all the paranoid monoliths. Cut off
from the tribe by feral nostalgia we tunnel after lost
words, imaginary bombs.
The last possible _deed_ is that which defines perception
itself, an invisible golden cord that connects us: illegal
dancing in the courthouse corridors. If I were to kiss you
here they'd call it an act of terrorism--so let's take our
pistols to bed & wake up the city at midnight like drunken
bandits celebrating with a fusillade, the message of the
taste of chaos.

Poetic Terrorism

WEIRD DANCING IN ALL-NIGHT computer-banking lobbies.
Unauthorized pyrotechnic displays. Land-art, earth-works as
bizarre alien artifacts strewn in State Parks. Burglarize
houses but instead of stealing, leave Poetic-Terrorist
objects. Kidnap someone & make them happy.
Pick someone at random & convince them they're the heir to
an enormous, useless & amazing fortune--say 5000 square
miles of Antarctica, or an aging circus elephant, or an
orphanage in Bombay, or a collection of alchemical mss.
Later they will come to realize that for a few moments they
believed in something extraordinary, & will perhaps be
driven as a result to seek out some more intense mode of
existence.

Bolt up brass commemorative plaques in places (public or
private) where you have experienced a revelation or had a
particularly fulfilling sexual experience, etc.

Go naked for a sign.

Organize a strike in your school or workplace on the grounds
that it does not satisfy your need for indolence & spiritual
beauty.

Grafitti-art loaned some grace to ugly subways & rigid
public momuments--PT-art can also be created for public
places: poems scrawled in courthouse lavatories, small
fetishes abandoned in parks & restaurants, xerox-art under
windshield-wipers of parked cars, Big Character Slogans
pasted on playground walls, anonymous letters mailed to
random or chosen recipients (mail fraud), pirate radio
transmissions, wet cement...

The audience reaction or aesthetic-shock produced by PT
ought to be at least as strong as the emotion of terror--
powerful disgust, sexual arousal, superstitious awe, sudden
intuitive breakthrough, dada-esque angst--no matter whether
the PT is aimed at one person or many, no matter whether it
is "signed" or anonymous, if it does not change someone's
life (aside from the artist) it fails.

PT is an act in a Theater of Cruelty which has no stage, no
rows of seats, no tickets & no walls. In order to work at
all, PT must categorically be divorced from all conventional
structures for art consumption (galleries, publications,
media). Even the guerilla Situationist tactics of street
theater are perhaps too well known & expected now.

An exquisite seduction carried out not only in the cause of
mutual satisfaction but also as a conscious act in a
deliberately beautiful life--may be the ultimate PT. The
PTerrorist behaves like a confidence-trickster whose aim is
not money but CHANGE.

Don't do PT for other artists, do it for people who will not
realize (at least for a few moments) that what you have done
is art. Avoid recognizable art-categories, avoid politics,
don't stick around to argue, don't be sentimental; be
ruthless, take risks, vandalize only what _must_ be defaced,
do something children will remember all their lives--but
don't be spontaneous unless the PT Muse has possessed you.

Dress up. Leave a false name. Be legendary. The best PT is
against the law, but don't get caught. Art as crime; crime
as art.

Amour Fou

AMOUR FOU IS NOT a Social Democracy, it is not a Parliament
of Two. The minutes of its secret meetings deal with
meanings too enormous but too precise for prose. Not this,
not that--its Book of Emblems trembles in your hand.

Naturally it shits on schoolmasters & police, but it sneers
at liberationists & ideologues as well--it is not a clean
well-lit room. A topological charlatan laid out its
corridors & abandoned parks, its ambush-decor of luminous
black & membranous maniacal red.

Each of us owns half the map--like two renaissance
potentates we define a new culture with our anathematized
mingling of bodies, merging of liquids--the Imaginal seams
of our City-state blur in our sweat.

Ontological anarchism never came back from its last fishing
trip. So long as no one squeals to the FBI, CHAOS cares
nothing for the future of civilization. Amour fou breeds
only by accident--its primary goal is ingestion of the
Galaxy. A conspiracy of transmutation.

Its only concern for the Family lies in the possibility of
incest ("Grow your own!" "Every human a Pharoah!")--O most
sincere of readers, my semblance, my brother/sister!--& in
the masturbation of a child it finds concealed (like a
japanese-paper-flower-pill) the image of the crumbling of
the State.

Words belong to those who use them only till someone else
steals them back. The Surrealists disgraced themselves by
selling amour fou to the ghost-machine of Abstraction--they
sought in their unconsciousness only power over others, & in
this they followed de Sade (who wanted "freedom" only for
grown-up whitemen to eviscerate women & children).

Amour fou is saturated with its own aesthetic, it fills
itself to the borders of itself with the trajectories of its
own gestures, it runs on angels' clocks, it is not a fit
fate for commissars & shopkeepers. Its ego evaporates in the
mutability of desire, its communal spirit withers in the
selfishness of obsession.

Amour fou involves non-ordinary sexuality the way sorcery
demands non-ordinary consciousness. The anglo-saxon post-
Protestant world channels all its suppressed sensuality into
advertising & splits itself into clashing mobs: hysterical
prudes vs promiscuous clones & former-ex-singles. AF doesn't
want to join anyone's army, it takes no part in the Gender
Wars, it is bored by equal opportunity employment (in fact
it refuses to work for a living), it doesn't complain,
doesn't explain, never votes & never pays taxes.

AF would like to see every bastard ("lovechild") come to
term & birthed--AF thrives on anti-entropic devices--AF
loves to be molested by children--AF is better than prayer,
better than sinsemilla--AF takes its own palmtrees & moon
wherever it goes. AF admires tropicalismo, sabotage, break-
dancing, Layla & Majnun, the smells of gunpowder & sperm.

AF is always illegal, whether it's disguised as a marriage
or a boyscout troop--always drunk, whether on the wine of
its own secretions or the smoke of its own polymorphous
virtues. It is not the derangement of the senses but rather
their apotheosis--not the result of freedom but rather its
precondition. _Lux_et_voluptas_.

Wild Children

THE FULL MOON'S UNFATHOMABLE light-path--mid-May midnight in
some State that starts with "I," so two-dimensional it can
scarcely be said to possess any geography at all--the beams
so urgent & tangible you must draw the shades in order to
think in words.

No question of _writing_to_ Wild Children. They think in
images--prose is for them a code not yet fully digested &
ossified, just as for us never fully trusted.

You may write _about_ them, so that others who have lost the
silver chain may follow. Or write _for_ them, making of
STORY & EMBLEM a process of seduction into your own
paleolithic memories, a barbaric enticement to liberty
(chaos as CHAOS understands it).

For this otherworld species or "third sex,"
_les_enfants_sauvages_, fancy & Imagination are still
undifferentiated. Unbridled PLAY: at one & the same time the
source of our Art & of all the race's rarest eros.

To embrace disorder both as wellspring of style & voluptuous
storehouse, a fundamental of our alien & occult
civilization, our conspiratorial esthetic, our lunatic
espionage--this is the action (let's face it) either of an
artist of some sort, or of a ten- or thirteen-year-old.

Children whose clarified senses betray them into a brilliant
sorcery of beautiful pleasure reflect something feral &
smutty in the nature of reality itself: natural ontological
anarchists, angels of chaos--their gestures & body odors
broadcast around them a jungle of presence, a forest of
prescience complete with snakes, ninja weapons, turtles,
futuristic shamanism, incredible mess, piss, ghosts,
sunlight, jerking off, birds' nests & eggs--gleeful
aggression against the groan-ups of those Lower Planes so
powerless to englobe either destructive epiphanies or
creation in the form of antics fragile but sharp enough to
slice moonlight.

And yet the denizens of these inferior jerkwater dimensions
truly believe they control the destinies of Wild Children--&
_down_here_, such vicious beliefs actually sculpt most of
the substance of happenstance.

The only ones who actually wish to _share_ the mischievous
destiny of those savage runaways or minor guerillas rather
than dictate it, the only ones who can understand that
cherishing & unleashing are the _same_act_--these are mostly
artists, anarchists, perverts, heretics, a band apart (as
much from each other as from the world) or able to meet only
as wild children might, locking gazes across a dinnertable
while adults gibber from behind their masks.

Too young for Harley choppers--flunk-outs, break-dancers,
scarcely pubescent poets of flat lost railroad towns--a
million sparks falling from the skyrockets of Rimbaud &
Mowgli--slender terrorists whose gaudy bombs are compacted
of polymorphous love & the precious shards of popular
culture--punk gunslingers dreaming of piercing their ears,
animist bicyclists gliding in the pewter dusk through
Welfare streets of accidental flowers--out-of-season gypsy
skinny-dippers, smiling sideways-glancing thieves of power-
totems, small change & panther-bladed knives--we sense them
everywhere--we publish this offer to trade the corruption of
our own _lux_et_gaudium_ for their perfect gentle filth.

So get this: our realization, our liberation depends on
_theirs_--not because we ape the Family, those "misers of
love" who hold hostages for a banal future, nor the State
which schools us all to sink beneath the event-horizon of a
tedious "usefulness"--no--but because _we_&_they_, the wild
ones, are images of each other, linked & bordered by that
silver chain which defines the pale of sensuality,
transgression & vision.

We share the same enemies & our means of triumphant escape
are also the same: a delirious & obsessive _play_, powered
by the spectral brilliance of the wolves & their children.

Paganism

CONSTELLATIONS BY WHICH TO steer the barque of the soul.
"If the moslem understood Islam he would become an idol-
worshipper."--Mahmud Shabestari
Eleggua, ugly opener of doors with a hook in his head &
cowrie shells for eyes, black santeria cigar & glass of rum-
-same as Ganesh, elephant-head fat boy of Beginnings who
rides a mouse.
The organ which senses the numinous atrophies with the
senses. Those who cannot feel baraka cannot know the caress
of the world.

Hermes Poimandres taught the animation of eidolons, the
magic in-dwelling of icons by spirits--but those who cannot
perform this rite on themselves & on the whole palpable
fabric of material being will inherit only blues, rubbish,
decay.

The pagan body becomes a Court of Angels who all perceive
this place--this very grove--as paradise ("If there is a
paradise, surely it is _here_!"--inscription on a Mughal
garden gate)..
But ontological anarchism is too paleolithic for eschatology-
-things are real, sorcery works, bush-spirits one with the
Imagination, death an unpleasant vagueness--the plot of
Ovid's _Metamorphoses_--an epic of mutability. The personal
mythscape.

Paganism has not yet invented laws--only virtues. No
priestcraft, no theology or metaphysics or morality--but a
universal shamanism in which no one attains real humanity
without a vision.
Food money sex sleep sun sand & sinsemilla--love truth peace
freedom & justice. Beauty. Dionysus the drunk boy on a
panther--rank adolescent sweat--Pan goatman slogs through
the solid earth up to his waist as if it were the sea, his
skin crusted with moss & lichen--Eros multiplies himself
into a dozen pastoral naked Iowa farm boys with muddy feet &
pond-scum on their thighs.

Raven, the potlatch trickster, sometimes a boy, old woman,
bird who stole the Moon, pine needles floating on a pond,
Heckle/Jeckle totempole-head, chorus-line of crows with
silver eyes dancing on the woodpile--same as Semar the
hunchback albino hermaphrodite shadow-puppet patron of the
Javanese revolution.

Yemaya, bluestar sea-goddess & patroness of queers--same as
Tara, bluegrey aspect of Kali, necklace of skulls, dancing
on Shiva's stiff lingam, licking monsoon clouds with her
yard-long tongue--same as Loro Kidul, jasper-green Javanese
sea-goddess who bestows the power of invulnerability on
sultans by tantrik intercourse in magic towers & caves.

>From one point of view ontological anarchism is extremely
bare, stripped of all qualities & possessions, poor as CHAOS
itself--but from another point of view it pullulates with
baroqueness like the Fucking-Temples of Kathmandu or an
alchemical emblem book--it sprawls on its divan eating
loukoum & entertaining heretical notions, one hand inside
its baggy trousers.
The hulls of its pirate ships are lacquered black, the
lateen sails are red, black banners with the device of a
winged hourglass.

A South China Sea of the mind, off a jungle-flat coast of
palms, rotten gold temples to unknown bestiary gods, island
after island, the breeze like wet yellow silk on naked skin,
navigating by pantheistic stars, hierophany on hierophany,
light upon light against the luminous & chaotic dark.

Art Sabotage

ART SABOTAGE STRIVES TO be perfectly exemplary but at the
same time retain an element of opacity--not propaganda but
aesthetic shock--apallingly direct yet also subtly angled--
action-as-metaphor.

Art Sabotage is the dark side of Poetic Terrorism--creation-
through-destruction--but it cannot serve any Party, nor any
nihilism, nor even art itself. Just as the banishment of
illusion enhances awareness, so the demolition of aesthetic
blight sweetens the air of the world of discourse, of the
Other. Art Sabotage serves only consciousness,
attentiveness, awakeness.

A-S goes beyond paranoia, beyond deconstruction--the
ultimate criticism--physical attack on offensive art--
aesthetic jihad. The slightest taint of petty ego-icity or
even of personal taste spoils its purity & vitiates its
force. A-S can never seek power--only _release_ it.

Individual artworks (even the worst) are largely irrelevant-
-A-S seeks to damage institutions which use art to diminish
consciousness & profit by delusion. This or that poet or
painter cannot be condemned for lack of vision--but malign
Ideas can be assaulted through the artifacts they generate.
MUZAK is designed to hypnotize & control--its machinery can
be smashed.

Public book burnings--why should rednecks & Customs
officials monopolize this weapon? Novels about children
possessed by demons; the _New_York_Times_ bestseller list;
feminist tracts against pornography; schoolbooks (especially
Social Studies, Civics, Health); piles of _New_York_Post_,
_Village_Voice_ & other supermarket papers; choice gleanings
of Xtian publishers; a few Harlequin Romances--a festive
atmosphere, wine-bottles & joints passed around on a clear
autumn afternoon.

To throw money away at the Stock Exchange was pretty decent
Poetic Terrorism--but to _destroy_ the money would have been
good Art Sabotage. To seize TV transmission & broadcast a
few pirated minutes of incendiary Chaote art would
constitute a feat of PT--but simply to blow up the
transmission tower would be perfectly adequate Art Sabotage.
If certain galleries & museums deserve an occasional brick
through their windows--not destruction, but a jolt to
complacency--then what about BANKS? Galleries turn beauty
into a commodity but banks transmute Imagination into feces
and debt. Wouldn't the world gain a degree of beauty with
each bank that could be made to tremble...or fall? But how?
Art Sabotage should probably stay away from politics (it's
so boring)--but not from banks.

Don't picket--vandalize. Don't protest--deface. When
ugliness, poor design & stupid waste are forced upon you,
turn Luddite, throw your shoe in the works, retaliate. Smash
the symbols of the Empire in the name of nothing but the
heart's longing for grace.

The Assassins

ACROSS THE LUSTER OF the desert & into the polychrome hills,
hairless & ochre violet dun & umber, at the top of a
dessicate blue valley travelers find an artificial oasis, a
fortified castle in saracenic style enclosing a hidden
garden.

As guests of the Old Man of the Mountain Hassan-i Sabbah
they climb rock-cut steps to the castle. Here the Day of
Resurrection has already come & gone--those within live
outside profane Time, which they hold at bay with daggers &
poisons.

Behind crenellations & slit-windowed towers scholars &
fedayeen wake in narrow monolithic cells. Star-maps,
astrolabes, alembics & retorts, piles of open books in a
shaft of morning sunlight--an unsheathed scimitar.

Each of those who enter the realm of the _Imam-of-one's-own-
being_ becomes a sultan of inverted revelation, a monarch of
abrogation & apostasy. In a central chamber scalloped with
light and hung with tapestried arabesques they lean on
bolsters & smoke long chibouks of haschisch scented with
opium & amber.

For them the hierarchy of being has compacted to a
dimensionless punctum of the real--for them the chains of
Law have been broken--they end their fasting with wine. For
them the outside of everything is its inside, its true face
shines through direct. But the garden gates are camouflaged
with terrorism, mirrors, rumors of assassination, trompe
l'oeil, legends.

Pomegranate, mulberry, persimmon, the erotic melancholy of
cypresses, membrane-pink shirazi roses, braziers of meccan
aloes & benzoin, stiff shafts of ottoman tulips, carpets
spread like make-believe gardens on actual lawns--a pavilion
set with a mosaic of calligrammes--a willow, a stream with
watercress--a fountain crystalled underneath with geometry--
the metaphysical scandal of bathing odalisques, of wet brown
cupbearers hide-&-seeking in the foliage--"water, greenery,
beautiful faces."

By night Hassan-i Sabbah like a civilized wolf in a turban
stretches out on a parapet above the garden & glares at the
sky, conning the asterisms of heresy in the mindless cool
desert air. True, in this myth some aspirant disciples may
be ordered to fling themselves off the ramparts into the
black--but also true that some of them will learn to fly
like sorcerers.

The emblem of Alamut holds in the mind, a _mandal_ or magic
circle lost to history but embedded or imprinted in
consciousness. The Old Man flits like a ghost into tents of
kings & bedrooms of theologians, past all locks & guards
with forgotten moslem/ninja techniques, leaves behind bad
dreams, stilettos on pillows, puissant bribes.

The attar of his propaganda seeps into the criminal dreams
of ontological anarchism, the heraldry of our obsessions
displays the luminous black outlaw banners of the
Assassins...all of them pretenders to the throne of an
Imaginal Egypt, an occult space/light continuum consumed by
still-unimagined liberties.

Pyrotechnics

INVENTED BY THE CHINESE but never developed for war--a fine
example of Poetic Terrorism--a weapon used to trigger
aesthetic shock rather than kill--the Chinese hated war &
used to go into mourning when armies were raised--gunpowder
more useful to frighten malign demons, delight children,
fill the air with brave & risky-smelling haze.

Class C Thunder Bombs from Kwantung, bottlerockets,
butterflies, M-80's, sunflowers, "A Forest In Springtime"--
revolution weather--light your cigarette from the sizzling
fuse of a Haymarket-black bomb--imagine the air full of
lamiae & succubi, oppressive spirits, police-ghosts.
Call some kid with a smouldering punk or kitchen match--
shaman-apostle of summer gunpowder plots--shatter the heavy
night with pinched stars & pumped stars, arsenic & antimony,
sodium & calomel, a blitz of magnesium & shrill picrate of
potash.

Spur-fire (lampblack & saltpetre) portfire & iron filings--
attack your local bank or ugly church with roman candles &
purple-gold skyrockets, impromptu & anonymous (perhaps
launch from back of pick-up truck..)

Build frame-lattice lancework set-pieces on the roofs of
insurance buildings or schools--a kundalini-snake or Chaos-
dragon coiled barium-green against a background of sodium-
oxalate yellow--Don't Tread On Me--or copulating monsters
shooting wads of jizm-fire at a Baptists old folks home.

Cloud-sculpture, smoke sculpture & flags = Air Art.
Earthworks. Fountains = Water Art. And Fireworks. Don't
perform with Rockefeller grants & police permits for
audiences of culture-lovers. Evanescent incendiary mind-
bombs, scary mandalas flaring up on smug suburban nights,
alien green thunderheads of emotional plague blasted by
orgone-blue vajra-rays of lasered _feux_d'artifice_.

Comets that explode with the odor of hashish & radioactive
charcoal--swampghouls & will-o'-the-wisps haunting public
parks--fake St. Elmo's fire flickering over the architecture
of the bourgeoisie--strings of lady-fingers falling on the
Legislature floor--salamander-elementals attack well-known
moral reformers.

Blazing shellac, sugar of milk, strontium, pitch, gum water,
gerbs of chinese fire--for a few moments the air is ozone-
sharp--drifting opal cloud of pungent dragon/phoenix smoke.
For an instant the Empire falls, its princes & governors
flee to their stygian muck, plumes of sulphur from elf-
flamethrowers burning their pinched asses as they retreat.
The Assassin-child, psyche of fire, holds sway for one brief
dogstar-hot night.

Chaos Myths

Unseen Chaos (po-te-kitea)
Unpossessed, Unpassing
Chaos of utter darkness
Untouched & untouchable
--Maori Chant

Chaos perches on a sky-mountain: a huge bird like a yellow
bag or red fireball, with six feet & four wings--has no face
but dances & sings.

Or Chaos is a black longhaired dog, blind & deaf, lacking
the five viscera.
Chaos the Abyss comes first, then Earth/Gaia, then
Desire/Eros. From these three proceed two pairs--Erebus &
old Night, Aether & Daylight.

Neither Being nor Non-being
neither air nor earth nor space:
what was enclosed? where? under whose
protection?
What was water, deep, unfathomable?
Neither death nor immortality, day nor night--
but ONE breathed by itself with no wind.
Nothing else. Darkness swathed in darkness,
unmanifest water.
The ONE, hidden by void,
felt the generation of heat, came into being
as Desire, first seed of Mind...
Was there an up or down?
There were casters of seed, there were powers:
energy underneath, impulse above.
But who knows for sure?
--_Rg_Veda_

Tiamat the Chaos-Ocean slowly drops from her womb Silt &
Slime, the Horizons, Sky and watery Wisdom. These offspring
grow noisy & bumptious--she considers their destruction.

But Marduk the wargod of Babylon rises in rebellion against
the Old Hag & her Chaos-monsters, chthonic totems--Worm,
Female Ogre, Great Lion, Mad Dog, Scorpion Man, Howling
Storm--dragons wearing their glory like gods--& Tiamat
herself a great sea-serpent.

Marduk accuses her of causing sons to rebel against fathers-
-she loves Mist & Cloud, principles of disorder. Marduk will
be the first to rule, to invent government. In battle he
slays Tiamat & from her body orders the material universe.
He inaugurates the Babylonian Empire--then from gibbets &
bloody entrails of Tiamat's incestuous son he creates the
human race to serve forever the comfort of gods--& their
high priests & anointed kings.

Father Zeus & the Olympians wage war against Mother Gaia &
the Titans, those partisans of Chaos, the old ways of
hunting & gathering, of aimless wandering, androgyny & the
license of beasts.

Amon-Ra (Being) sits alone in the primordial Chaos-Ocean of
NUN creating all the other gods by jerking off--but Chaos
also manifests as the dragon Apophis whom Ra must destroy
(along with his state of glory, his shadow & his magic) in
order that the Pharoah may safely rule--a victory ritually
re-created daily in Imperial temples to confound the enemies
of the State, of cosmic Order.

Chaos is Hun Tun, Emperor of the Center. One day the South
Sea, Emperor Shu, & the North Sea, Emperor Hu (_shu_hu_ =
lightning) paid a visit to Hun Tun, who always treated them
well. Wishing to repay his kindness they said, "All beings
have seven orifices for seeing, hearing, eating, shitting,
etc.--but poor old Hun Tun has none! Let's drill some into
him!" So they did--one orifice a day--till on the seventh
day, Chaos died.

But...Chaos is also an enormous chicken's egg. Inside it
P'an-Ku is born & grows for 18,000 years--at last the egg
opens up, splits into sky & earth, yang & yin. Now P'an-Ku
grows into a column that holds up the universe--or else he
_becomes_ the universe (breath-->wind, eyes-->sun & moon,
blood & humors-->rivers & seas, hair & lashes-->stars &
planets, sperm-->pearls, marrow-->jade, his fleas-->human
beings, etc.)

Or else he becomes the man/monster Yellow Emperor. Or else
he becomes Lao Tzu, prophet of Tao. In fact, poor old Hun
Tun is the Tao itself.

"Nature's music has no existence outside things. The various
apertures, pipes, flutes, all living beings together make up
nature. The "I" cannot produce things & things cannot
produce the "I," which is self-existent. Things are what
they are spontaneously, not caused by something else.
Everything is natural & does not know why it is so. The
10,000 things have 10,000 different states, all in motion as
if there were a True Lord to move them--but if we search for
evidence of this Lord we fail to find any." (Kuo Hsiang)

Every realized consciousness is an "emperor" whose sole form
of rule is to do nothing to disturb the spontaneity of
nature, the Tao. The "sage" is not Chaos itself, but rather
a loyal child of Chaos--one of P'an-Ku's fleas, a fragment
of flesh of Tiamat's monstrous son. "Heaven and Earth," says
Chuang Tzu, "were born at the same time I was, & the 10,000
things are one with me."

Ontological Anarchism tends to disagree only with the
Taoists' total quietism. In our world Chaos has been
overthrown by younger gods, moralists, phallocrats, banker-
priests, fit lords for serfs. If rebellion proves impossible
then at least a kind of clandestine spiritual jihad might be
launched. Let it follow the war-banners of the anarchist
black dragon, Tiamat, Hun Tun.

Chaos never died.

Pornography

IN PERSIA I SAW that poetry is meant to be set to music &
chanted or sung--for one reason alone--because it _works_.

A right combination of image & tune plunges the audience
into a _hal_ (something between emotional/aesthetic mood &
trance of hyperawareness), outbursts of weeping, fits of
dancing--measurable physical response to art. For us the
link between poetry & body died with the bardic era--we read
under the influence of a cartesian anaesthetic gas.

In N. India even non-musical recitation provokes noise &
motion, each good couplet applauded, "Wa! Wa!" with elegant
hand-jive, tossing of rupees--whereas we listen to poetry
like some SciFi brain in a jar--at best a wry chuckle or
grimace, vestige of simian rictus--the rest of the body off
on some other planet.

In the East poets are sometimes thrown in prison--a sort of
compliment, since it suggests the author has done something
at least as real as theft or rape or revolution. Here poets
are allowed to publish anything at all--a sort of punishment
in effect, prison without walls, without echoes, without
palpable existence--shadow-realm of print, or of abstract
thought--world without risk or _eros_.

So poetry is dead again--& even if the mumia from its corpse
retains some healing properties, auto-resurrection isn't one
of them.

If rulers refuse to consider poems as crimes, then someone
must commit crimes that serve the function of poetry, or
texts that possess the resonance of terrorism. At any cost
re-connect poetry to the body. Not crimes against bodies,
but against Ideas (& Ideas-in-things) which are deadly &
suffocating. Not stupid libertinage but exemplary crimes,
aesthetic crimes, crimes for love.
In England some pornographic books are still banned.
Pornography has a measurable physical effect on its readers.
Like propaganda it sometimes changes lives because it
uncovers true desires.

Our culture produces most of its porn out of body-hatred--
but erotic art in itself makes a better vehicle for
enhancement of being/consciousness/bliss--as in certain
oriental works. A sort of Western tantrik porn might help
galvanize the corpse, make it shine with some of the glamor
of crime.

America has freedom of speech because all words are
considered equally vapid. Only _images_ count--the censors
love snaps of death & mutilation but recoil in horror at the
sight of a child masturbating--apparently they experience
this as an invasion of their existential validity, their
identification with the Empire & its subtlest gestures.

No doubt even the most poetic porn would never revive the
faceless corpse to dance & sing (like the Chinese Chaos-
bird)--but...imagine a script for a three-minute film set on
a mythical isle of runaway children who inhabit ruins of old
castles or build totem-huts & junk-assemblage nests--mixture
of animation, special-effects, compugraphix & color tape--
edited tight as a fastfood commercial...

...but weird & naked, feathers & bones, tents sewn with
crystal, black dogs, pigeon-blood--flashes of amber limbs
tangled in sheets--faces in starry masks kissing soft
creases of skin--androgynous pirates, castaway faces of
columbines sleeping on thigh-white flowers--nasty hilarious
piss jokes, pet lizards lapping spilt milk--nude break-
dancing--victorian bathtub with rubber ducks & pink boners--
Alice on ganja...

...atonal punk reggae scored for gamelan, synthesizer,
saxophones & drums--electric boogie lyrics sung by aetherial
children's choir--ontological anarchist lyrics, cross
between Hafez & Pancho Villa, Li Po & Bakunin, Kabir & Tzara-
-call it "CHAOS--the Rock Video!"
No...probably just a dream. Too expensive to produce, &
besides, who would see it? Not the kids it was meant to
seduce. Pirate TV is a futile fantasy, rock merely another
commodity--forget the slick gesamtkunstwerk, then. Leaflet a
playground with inflammatory smutty feuilletons--
pornopropaganda, crackpot samizdat to unchain Desire from
its bondage.

Crime

JUSTICE CANNOT BE OBTAINED under any Law--action in accord
with spontaneous nature, action which is just, cannot be
defined by dogma. The crimes advocated in these broadsheets
cannot be committed against self or other but only against
the mordant crystallization of Ideas into structures of
poisonous Thrones & Dominations.

That is, not crimes against nature or humanity but crimes by
legal fiat. Sooner or later the uncovering & unveiling of
self/nature transmogrifies a person into a brigand--like
stepping into another world then returning to this one to
discover you've been declared a traitor, heretic, exile.
The Law waits for you to stumble on a mode of being, a soul
different from the FDA-approved purple-stamped standard dead
meat--& as soon as you begin to act in harmony with nature
the Law garottes & strangles you--so don't play the blessed
liberal middleclass martyr--accept the fact that you're a
criminal & be prepared to act like one.

Paradox: to embrace Chaos is not to slide toward entropy but
to emerge into an energy like stars, a pattern of
instantaneous grace--a spontaneous organic order completely
different from the carrion pyramids of sultans, muftis,
cadis & grinning executioners.

After Chaos comes Eros--the principle of order implicit in
the nothingness of the unqualified One. Love is structure,
system, the only code untainted by slavery & drugged sleep.
We must become crooks & con-men to protect its spiritual
beauty in a bezel of clandestinity, a hidden garden of
espionage.

Don't just survive while waiting for someone's revolution to
clear your head, don't sign up for the armies of anorexia or
bulimia--act as if you were already free, calculate the
odds, step out, remember the Code Duello--Smoke Pot/Eat
Chicken/Drink Tea. Every man his own vine & figtree
(_Circle_Seven_Koran_, Noble Drew Ali)--carry your Moorish
passport with pride, don't get caught in the crossfire, keep
your back covered--but take the risk, dance before you
calcify.
The natural social model for ontological anarchism is the
child-gang or the bank-robbers-band. Money is a lie--this
adventure must be feasible without it--booty & pillage
should be spent before it turns back into dust. Today is
Resurrection Day--money wasted on beauty will be
alchemically transmuted into elixir. As my uncle Melvin used
to say, stolen watermelon tastes sweeter.
The world is already re-made according to the heart's desire-
-but civilization owns all the leases & most of the guns.
Our feral angels demand we trespass, for they manifest
themselves only on forbidden grounds. High Way Man. The yoga
of stealth, the lightning raid, the enjoyment of treasure.

Sorcery

THE UNIVERSE WANTS TO PLAY. Those who refuse out of dry
spiritual greed & choose pure contemplation forfeit their
humanity--those who refuse out of dull anguish, those who
hesitate, lose their chance at divinity--those who mold
themselves blind masks of Ideas & thrash around seeking some
proof of their own solidity end by seeing out of dead men's
eyes.

Sorcery: the systematic cultivation of enhanced
consciousness or non-ordinary awareness & its deployment in
the world of deeds & objects to bring about desired results.

The incremental openings of perception gradually banish the
false selves, our cacophonous ghosts--the "black magic" of
envy & vendetta backfires because Desire cannot be forced.
Where our knowledge of beauty harmonizes with the
_ludus_naturae_, sorcery begins.

No, not spoon-bending or horoscopy, not the Golden Dawn or
make-believe shamanism, astral projection or the Satanic
Mass--if it's mumbo jumbo you want go for the real stuff,
banking, politics, social science--not that weak blavatskian
crap.

Sorcery works at creating around itself a psychic/physical
space or openings into a space of untrammeled expression--
the metamorphosis of quotidian place into angelic sphere.
This involves the manipulation of symbols (which are also
things) & of people (who are also symbolic)--the archetypes
supply a vocabulary for this process & therefore are treated
as if they were both real & unreal, like words. Imaginal
Yoga.

The sorcerer is a Simple Realist: the world is real--but
then so must consciousness be real since its effects are so
tangible. The dullard finds even wine tasteless but the
sorcerer can be intoxicated by the mere sight of water.
Quality of perception defines the world of intoxication--but
to sustain it & expand it to include _others_ demands
activity of a certain kind--sorcery.
Sorcery breaks no law of nature because there is no Natural
Law, only the spontaneity of _natura_naturans_, the tao.
Sorcery violates laws which seek to chain this flow--
priests, kings, hierophants, mystics, scientists &
shopkeepers all brand the sorcerer _enemy_ for threatening
the power of their charade, the tensile strength of their
illusory web.

A poem can act as a spell & vice versa--but sorcery refuses
to be a metaphor for mere literature--it insists that
symbols must cause events as well as private epiphanies. It
is not a critique but a re-making. It rejects all
eschatology & metaphysics of removal, all bleary nostalgia &
strident futurismo, in favor of a paroxysm or seizure of
_presence_.

Incense & crystal, dagger & sword, wand, robes, rum, cigars,
candles, herbs like dried dreams--the virgin boy staring
into a bowl of ink--wine & ganja, meat, yantras & gestures--
rituals of pleasure, the garden of houris & sakis--the
sorcerer climbs these snakes & ladders to a moment which is
fully saturated with its own color, where mountains are
mountains & trees are trees, where the body becomes all
time, the beloved all space.

The tactics of ontological anarchism are rooted in this
secret Art--the goals of ontological anarchism appear in its
flowering. Chaos hexes its enemies & rewards its
devotees...this strange yellowing pamphlet, pseudonymous &
dust-stained, reveals all...send away for one split second
of eternity.

Advertisement

WHAT THIS TELLS YOU is not prose. It may be pinned to the
board but it's still alive & wriggling. It does not want to
seduce you unless you're extremely young & good-looking
(enclose recent photo).

Hakim Bey lives in a seedy Chinese hotel where the
proprietor nods out over newspaper & scratchy broadcasts of
Peking Opera. The ceiling fan turns like a sluggish dervish-
-sweat falls on the page--the poet's kaftan is rusty, his
ovals spill ash on the rug--his monologues seem disjointed &
slightly sinister--outside shuttered windows the barrio
fades into palmtrees, the naive blue ocean, the philosophy
of tropicalismo.

Along a highway somewhere east of Baltimore you pass an
Airstream trailer with a big sign on the lawn SPIRITUAL
READINGS & the image of a crude black hand on a red
background. Inside you notice a display of dream-books,
numbers-books, pamphlets on HooDoo and Santeria, dusty old
nudist magazines, a pile of _Boy's_Life_, treatises on
fighting-cocks...& this book, _Chaos_. Like words spoken in
a dream, portentous, evanescent, changing into perfumes,
birds, colors, forgotten music.

This book distances itself by a certain impassibility of
surface, almost a glassiness. It doesn't wag its tail & it
doesn't snarl but it bites & humps the furniture. It doesn't
have an ISBN number & it doesn't want you for a disciple but
it might kidnap your children.

This book is nervous like coffee or malaria--it sets up a
network of cut-outs & safe drops between itself & its
readers--but it's so baldfaced & literal-minded it
practically encodes itself--it smokes itself into a stupor.

A mask, an automythology, a map without placenames--stiff as
an egyptian wallpainting nevertheless it reaches to caress
someone's face--& suddenly finds itself out in the street,
in a body, embodied in light, walking, awake, almost
satisfied.

--NYC, May 1-July 4, 1984

COMMUNIQUES OF THE ASSOCIATION FOR ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHY

COMMUNIQUE #1 (SPRING 1986)

I. Slogans & Mottos for Subway Graffiti & Other Purposes
ROOTLESS COSMOPOLITANISM
POETIC TERRORISM
(for scrawling or rubberstamping on advertisements:)
THIS IS YOUR TRUE DESIRE
MARXISM-STIRNERISM
STRIKE FOR INDOLENCE & SPIRITUAL BEAUTY
YOUNG CHILDREN HAVE BEAUTIFUL FEET
THE CHAINS OF LAW HAVE BEEN BROKEN
TANTRIK PORNOGRAPHY
RADICAL ARISTOCRATISM
KIDS' LIB URBAN GUERILLAS
IMAGINARY SHIITE FANATICS
BOLO'BOLO
GAY ZIONISM
(SODOM FOR THE SODOMITES)
PIRATE UTOPIAS
CHAOS NEVER DIED

Some of these are "sincere" slogans of the A.O.A.--others
are meant to rouse public apprehension & misgivings--but
we're not sure which is which. Thanx to Stalin, Anon., Bob
Black, Pir Hassan (upon his mention be peace), F. Nietzsche,
Hank Purcell Jr., "P.M.," & Bro. Abu Jehad al-Salah of the
Moorish Temple of Dagon.

II. Some Poetic-Terrorist Ideas Still Sadly Languishing in
the Realm of "Conceptual Art"

1. Walk into Citibank or Chembank computer customer service
area during busy period, take a shit on the floor, & leave.

2. Chicago May Day '86: organize "religious" procession for
Haymarket "Martyrs"--huge banners with sentimental
portraits, wreathed in flowers & streaming with tinsel &
ribbon, borne by penitenti in black KKKatholic-style hooded
gowns--outrageous campy TV acolytes with incense & holy
water sprinkle the crowd--anarchists w/ash-smeared faces
beat themselves with little flails & whips--a "Pope" in
black robes blesses tiny symbolic coffins reverently carried
to Cemetery by weeping punks. Such a spectacle ought to
offend _nearly_everyone_.

3. Paste up in public places a xerox flyer, photo of a
beautiful twelve-year-old boy, naked and masturbating,
clearly titled: THE FACE OF GOD.

4. Mail elaborate & exquisite magickal "blessings"
_anonymously_ to people or groups you admire, e.g. for their
politics or spirituality or physical beauty or success in
crime, etc. Follow the same general procedure as outlined in
Section 5 below, but utilize an aesthetic of good fortune,
bliss or love, as appropriate.

5. Invoke a terrible curse on a malign _institution_, such
as the _New_York_Post_ or the MUZAK company. A technique
adapted from Malaysian sorcerers: send the Company a package
containing a bottle, corked and sealed with black wax.
Inside: dead insects, scorpions, lizards or the like; a bag
containing graveyard dirt ("gris-gris" in American HooDoo
terminology) along with other noxious substances; an egg,
pierced with iron nails and pins; and a scroll on which an
emblem is drawn (see p. 57).

(This _yantra_ or _veve_ invokes the Black Djinn, the Self's
dark shadow. Full details obtainable from the A.O.A.) An
accompanying note explains that the hex is sent against the
_institution_ & not against individuals--but unless the
institution itself _ceases_to_be_malign_, the curse (like a
mirror) will begin to infect the premises with noxious
fortune, a miasma of negativity. Prepare a "news release"
explaining the curse & taking credit for it in the name of
the American Poetry Society. Mail copies of this text to all
employees of the institution & to selected media. The night
before these letters arrive, wheatpaste the institutional
premises with xerox copies of the Black Djinn's emblem,
where they will be seen by all employees arriving for work
next morning.

(Thanx to Abu Jehad again, & to Sri Anamananda--the Moorish
Castellan of Belvedere Weather Tower--& other comrades of
the Central Park Autonomous Zone, & Brooklyn Temple Number
1)

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #2

The Kallikak Memorial Bolo & Chaos Ashram: A Proposal

NURSING AN OBSESSION FOR Airstream trailers--those classic
miniature dirigibles on wheels--& also the New Jersey Pine
Barrens, huge lost backlands of sandy creeks & tar pines,
cranberry bogs & ghost towns, population around 14 per sq.
mile, dirt roads overgrown with fern, brokenspine cabins &
isolated rusty mobile homes with burnt-out cars in the front
yards
land of the mythical Kallikaks--Piney families studied by
eugenicists in the 1920's to justify sterilization of rural
poor. Some Kallikaks married well, prospered, & waxed
bourgeois thanx to good genes--others however never worked
real jobs but lived off the woods--incest, sodomy, mental
deficiencies galore--photos touched up to make them look
vacant & morose--descended from rogue Indians, Hessian
mercenaries, rum smugglers, deserters--Lovecraftian
degenerates
come to think of it the Kallikaks might well have produced
secret Chaotes, precursor sex radicals, Zerowork prophets.
Like other monotone landscapes (desert, sea, swamp), the
Barrens seem infused with erotic power--not vril or orgone
so much as a languid disorder, almost a sluttishness of
Nature, as if the very ground & water were formed of sexual
flesh, membranes, spongy erectile tissue. We want to squat
there, maybe an abandoned hunting/fishing lodge with old
woodstove & privy--or decaying Vacation Cabins on some
disused County Highway--or just a woodlot where we park 2 or
3 Airstreams hidden back in the pines near creek or swimming
hole. Were the Kallikaks onto something good? We'll find out

somewhere boys dream that extraterrestrials will come to
rescue them from their families, perhaps vaporizing the
parents with some alien ray in the process. Oh well. Space
Pirate Kidnap Plot Uncovered--"Alien" Unmasked As Shiite
Fanatic Queer Poet--UFOs Seen Over Pine Barrens--"Lost Boys
Will Leave Earth," Claims So-Called Prophet Of Chaos Hakim
Bey
runaway boys, mess & disorder, ecstasy & sloth, skinny-
dipping, childhood as permanent insurrection--collections of
frogs, snails, leaves--pissing in the moonlight--11, 12, 13-
-old enough to seize back control of one's own history from
parents, school, Welfare, TV--Come live with us in the
Barrens--we'll cultivate a local brand of seedless rope to
finance our luxuries & contemplation of summer's alchemy--&
otherwise produce nothing but artifacts of Poetic Terrorism
& mementos of our pleasures

going for aimless rides in the old pickup, fishing &
gathering, lying around in the shade reading comics & eating
grapes--this is our economy. The suchness of things when
unchained from the Law, each molecule an orchid, each atom a
pearl to the attentive consciousness--this is our cult. The
Airstream is draped with Persian rugs, the lawn is profuse
with satisfied weeds

the treehouse becomes a wooden spaceship in the nakedness of
July & midnight, half-open to the stars, warm with epicurean
sweat, rushed & then hushed by the breathing of the Pines.
(Dear _Bolo_Log_: You asked for a practical & feasible
utopia--here it is, no mere post-holocaust fantasy, no
castles on the moon of Jupiter--a scheme we could start up
tomorrow--except that every single aspect of it breaks some
law, reveals some absolute taboo in U.S. society, threatens
the very fabric of etc., etc. Too bad. This is our true
desire, & to attain it we must contemplate not only a life
of pure art but also pure crime, pure insurrection. Amen.)

(Thanx to the Grim Reaper & other members of the Si Fan
Temple of Providence for YALU, GANO, SILA, & ideas)

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #3

Haymarket Issue

"I NEED ONLY MENTION in passing that there is a curious
reappearance of the Catfish tradition in the popular
Godzilla cycle of films which arose after the nuclear chaos
unleashed upon Japan. In fact, the symbolic details in the
evolution of Godzilla filmic poplore parallel in a quite
surprising way the traditional Japanese and Chinese
mythological and folkloric themes of combat with an
ambivalent chaos creature (some of the films, like _Mothra_,
directly recalling the ancient motifs of the cosmic
egg/gourd/cocoon) that is usually tamed, after the failure
of the civilizational order, through the special and
indirect agency of children."--Girardot,
_Myth_&_Meaning_in_Early_Taoism:_The_Theme_of_Chaos__(hun-
t'un)_

In some old Moorish Science Temple (in Chicago or Baltimore)
a friend claimed to have seen a secret altar on which rested
a matched pair of six shooters (in velvet-lined case) & a
_black_ fez. Supposedly initiation to the inner circle
required the neophyte Moor to assassinate at least one cop.
/// What about Louis Lingg? Was he a precursor of
Ontological Anarchism? "I despise you"--one can't help but
admiring such sentiments. But the man dynamited himself aged
22 to cheat the gallows...this is not exactly our chosen
path. /// The IDEA of the POLICE like hydra grows 100 new
heads for each one cut off--and all these heads are
_live_cops_. Slicing off heads gains us nothing, but only
enhances the beast's power till it swallows us. /// First
murder the IDEA--blow up the monument _inside_us_--& then
perhaps...the balance of power will shift. When the last cop
in our brain is gunned down by the last unfulfilled desire--
perhaps even the landscape around us will begin to
change.../// Poetic Terrorism proposes this
_sabotage_of_archetypes_ as the only practical
insurrectionary tactic for the present. But as Shiite
Extremists eager for the overthrow (by any means) of all
police, ayatollahs, bankers, executioners, priests, etc., we
reserve the option of venerating even the "failures" of
radical excess. /// A few days unchained from the Empire of
Lies might well be worth considerable sacrifice; a moment of
exalted realization may outweigh a lifetime of microcephalic
boredom & work. /// But this moment must _become_ours_--and
our ownership of it is seriously compromised if we must
commit suicide to preserve its integrity. So we mix our
veneration with irony--it's not martyrdom itself we propose,
but the courage of the dynamiter, the self-possession of a
Chaos-monster, the attainment of criminal & illegal
pleasures.

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #4

The End of the World

THE A.O.A. DECLARES ITSELF officially _bored_ with the End
of the World. The canonical version has been used since 1945
to keep us cowering in fear of Mutual Assured Destruction &
in snivelling servitude to our super-hero politicians (the
only ones capable of handling deadly Green Kryptonite)...

What does it mean that we have invented a way to destroy all
life on Earth? Nothing much. We have _dreamed_ this as an
escape from the contemplation of our own individual deaths.
We have made an emblem to serve as the mirror-image of a
discarded immortality. Like demented dictators we swoon at
the thought of taking it _all_ down with us into the Abyss.

The unofficial version of the Apocalypse involves a
lascivious yearning for the End, & for a post-Holocaust Eden
where the Survivalists (or the 144,000 Elect of
_Revelations_) can indulge themselves in orgies of Dualist
hysteria, endless final confrontations with a seductive
evil...
We have seen the ghost of Rene Guenon, cadaverous & topped
with a fez (like Boris Karloff as Ardis Bey in _The_Mummy_)
leading a funereal No Wave Industrial-Noise rock band in
loud buzzing blackfly-chants for the death of Culture &
Cosmos: the elitist fetishism of pathetic nihilists, the
Gnostic self-disgust of "post-sexual" intellectoids.

Are these dreary ballads not simply mirror-images of all
those lies & platitudes about Progress & the Future, beamed
from every loudspeaker, zapped like paranoid brain-waves
from every schoolbook & TV in the world of the Consensus?
The thanatosis of the Hip Millenarians extrudes itself like
pus from the false _health_ of the Consumers' & Workers'
Paradises.

Anyone who can read history with both hemispheres of the
brain knows that a world comes to an end every instant--the
waves of time leave washed up behind themselves only dry
memories of a closed & petrified past--imperfect memory,
itself already dying & autumnal. And every instant also
gives birth to a world--despite the cavillings of
philosophers & scientists whose bodies have grown numb--a
present in which all impossibilities are renewed, where
regret & premonition fade to nothing in one presential
hologrammatical psychomantric gesture.

The "normative" past or the future heat-death of the
universe mean as little to us as last year's GNP or the
withering away of the State. All Ideal pasts, all futures
which have not yet come to pass, simply obstruct our
consciousness of total vivid presence.

Certain sects believe that the world (or "a" world) has
_already_come_to_an_end_. For Jehovah's Witnesses it
happened in 1914 (yes folks, we are living in the Book of
Revelations _now_). For certain oriental occultists, it
occurred during the Major Conjunction of the Planets in
1962. Joachim of Fiore proclaimed the Third Age, that of the
Holy Spirit, which replaced those of Father & Son. Hassan II
of Alamut proclaimed the Great Resurrection, the
immanentization of the eschaton, paradise on earth. Profane
time came to an end somewhere in the late Middle Ages. Since
then we've been living angelic time--only most of us don't
know it.

Or to take an even more Radical Monist stance: Time never
started at all. Chaos never died. The Empire was never
founded. We are not now & never have been slaves to the past
or hostages to the future.

We suggest that the End of the World be declared a
_fait_accompli_; the exact date is unimportant. The ranters
in 1650 knew that the Millenium comes _now_ into each soul
that wakes to itself, to its own centrality & divinity.
"Rejoice, fellow creature," was their greeting. "All is
ours!"

I want no part of any other End of the World. A boy smiles
at me in the street. A black crow sits in a pink magnolia
tree, cawing as orgone accumulates & discharges in a split
second over the city...summer begins. I may be your
lover...but I spit on your Millenium.

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #5

"Intellectual S/M Is the Fascism of the Eighties--The Avant-
Garde Eats Shit and Likes It"

COMRADES!

Recently some confusion about "Chaos" has plagued the A.O.A.
from certain revanchist quarters, forcing us (who despise
polemics) at last to indulge in a Plenary Session devoted to
denunciations _ex_cathedra_, portentous as hell; our faces
burn red with rhetoric, spit flies from our lips, neck veins
bulge with pulpit fervor. We must at last descend to flying
banners with angry slogans (in 1930's type faces) declaring
what Ontological Anarchy _is_not_.

Remember, only in Classical Physics does Chaos have anything
to do with entropy, heat-death, or decay. In our physics
(Chaos Theory), Chaos identifies with tao, beyond both yin-
as-entropy & yang-as-energy, more a principle of continual
creation than of any _nihil_, void in the sense of
_potentia_, not exhaustion. (Chaos as the "sum of all
orders.")

From this alchemy we quintessentialize an aesthetic theory.
Chaote art may act terrifying, it may even act
_grand_guignol_, but it can never allow itself to be
drenched in putrid negativity, thanatosis, _schadenfreude_
(delight in the misery of others), crooning over Nazi
memorabilia & serial murders. Ontological Anarchy collects
no snuff films & is bored to tears with dominatrices who
spout french philosophy. ("Everything is hopeless & I knew
it before you did, asshole. Nyahh!")

Wilhelm Reich was driven half mad & killed by agents of the
Emotional Plague; maybe half his work derived from sheer
paranoia (UFO conspiracies, homophobia, even his orgasm
theory), BUT on one point we agree wholeheartedly--_sexpol_:
sexual repression breeds death obsession, which leads to
_bad_politics_. A great deal of avant-garde Art is saturated
with Deadly Orgone Rays (DOR). Ontological Anarchy aims to
build aesthetic cloud-busters (OR-guns) to disperse the
miasma of cerebral sado-masochism which now passes for
slick, hip, new, fashionable. Self-mutilating "performance"
artists strike us as banal & stupid--their art makes
everyone _more_unhappy_. What kind of two-bit conniving
horseshit...what kind of cockroach-brained Art creeps cooked
up this apocalypse stew?

Of course the avant-garde seems "smart"--so did Marinetti &
the Futurists, so did Pound & Celine. Compared to that kind
of intelligence we'd choose real stupidity, bucolic New Age
blissed-out inanity--we'd rather be pinheads than
_queer_for_death_. But luckily we don't have to scoop out
our brains to attain our own queer brand of satori. All the
faculties, all the senses belong to us as our property--both
heart & head, intellect & spirit, body & soul. Ours is no
art of mutilation but of excess, superabundance, amazement.

The purveyors of pointless gloom are the Death Squads of
contemporary aesthetics--& we are the "disappeared ones."
Their make-believe ballroom of occult 3rd-Reich bric-a-brac
& child murder attracts the manipulators of the Spectacle--
death looks better on TV than life--& we Chaotes, who preach
an insurrectionary joy, are edged out towards silence.

Needless to say we reject all censorship by Church & State--
but "after the revolution" we would be willing to take
individual & personal responsibility for burning all the
Death Squad snuff-art crap & running them out of town on a
rail. (Criticism becomes _direct_action_ in an anarchist
context.) _My_ space has room neither for Jesus & his lords
of the flies nor for Chas. Manson & his literary admirers. I
want no mundane police--I want no cosmic axe-murderers
either; no TV chainsaw massacres, no sensitive
poststructuralist novels about necrophilia.

As it happens, the A.O.A. can scarcely hope to sabotage the
suffocating mechanisms of the State & its ghostly circuitry-
-but we just _might_ happen to find ourselves in a position
to do something about lesser manifestations of the DOR
plague such as the Corpse-Eaters of the Lower East Side &
other Art scum. We support artists who use _terrifying_
material in some "higher cause"--who use loving/sexual
material of any kind, however shocking or illegal--who _use_
their anger & disgust & their true desires to lurch toward
self-realization & beauty & adventure. "Social Nihilism,"
yes--but not the dead nihilism of gnostic self-disgust. Even
if it's violent & abrasive, anyone with a vestigial 3rd eye
can _see_ the differences between revolutionary pro-life art
& reactionary pro-death art. DOR stinks, & the chaote nose
can sniff it out--just as it knows the perfume of
spiritual/sexual joy, however buried or masked by other
darker scents. Even the Radical Right, for all its horror of
flesh & the senses, occasionally comes up with a moment of
perception & consciousness-enhancement--but the Death
Squads, for all their tired lip service to fashionable
revolutionary abstractions, offer us about as much true
libertarian energy as the FBI, FDA, or the double-dip
Baptists.

We live in a society which advertises its costliest
commodities with images of death & mutilation, beaming them
direct to the reptilian back-brain of the millions thru
alpha-wave-generating carcinogenic reality-warping devices--
while certain images of life (such as our favorite, a child
masturbating) are banned & punished with incredible
ferocity. It takes no guts at all to be an Art Sadist, for
salacious death lies at the aesthetic center of our
Consensus Paradigm. "Leftists" who like to dress up & play
Police-&-Victim, people who jerk off to atrocity photos,
people who like to _think_ & intellectualize about splatter
art & highfalutin hopelessness & groovy ghoulishness &
_other_people's_misery_--such "artists" are nothing but
police-without-power (a perfect definition for many
"revolutionaries" too). We have a black bomb for these
aesthetic fascists--it explodes with sperm & firecrackers,
raucous weeds & piracy, weird Shiite heresies & bubbling
paradise-fountains, complex rhythms, pulsations of life, all
shapeless & exquisite.

Wake up! Breathe! Feel the world's breath against your skin!
Seize the day! Breathe! Breathe!
(Thanx to J. Mander's
_Four_Arguments_for_the_Abolition_of_Television_; Adam Exit;
& the Moorish Cosmopolitan of Williamsburg)

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #6

I. Salon Apocalypse: "Secret Theater"

AS LONG AS NO Stalin breathes down our necks, why not make
_some_ art in the service of...an insurrection?

Never mind if it's "impossible." What else can we hope to
attain but the "impossible"? Should we wait for
_someone_else_ to reveal our true desires?

If art has died, or the audience has withered away, then we
find ourselves free of two dead weights. Potentially,
everyone is now some kind of artist--& potentially every
audience has regained its innocence, its ability to _become_
the art that it experiences.

Provided we can escape from the museums we carry around
inside us, provided we can stop selling ourselves tickets to
the galleries in our own skulls, we can begin to contemplate
an art which re-creates the goal of the sorcerer: changing
the structure of reality by the manipulation of living
symbols (in this case, the images we've been "given" by the
organizers of this salon--murder, war, famine, & greed).

We might now contemplate aesthetic actions which possess
some of the resonance of terrorism (or "cruelty," as Artaud
put it) aimed at the destruction of abstractions rather than
people, at liberation rather than power, pleasure rather
than profit, joy rather than fear. "Poetic Terrorism."
Our chosen images have the potency of darkness--but all
images are masks, & behind these masks lie energies we can
turn toward light & pleasure.

For example, the man who invented _aikido_ was a samurai who
became a pacifist & refused to fight for Japanese
imperialism. He became a hermit, lived on a mountain sitting
under a tree..
One day a former fellow-officer came to visit him & accused
him of betrayal, cowardice, etc. The hermit said nothing,
but kept on sitting--& the officer fell into a rage, drew
his sword, & struck. Spontaneously the unarmed master
disarmed the officer & returned his sword. Again & again the
officer tried to kill, using every subtle _kata_ in his
repertoire--but out of his empty mind the hermit each time
invented a new way to disarm him.

The officer of course became his first disciple. Later, they
learned how to _dodge_bullets_.
We might contemplate some form of metadrama meant to capture
a taste of this performance, which gave rise to a wholly new
art, a totally non-violent way of fighting--war without
murder, "the sword of life" rather than death.

A conspiracy of artists, anonymous as any mad bombers, but
aimed toward an act of gratuitous generosity rather than
violence--at the millennium rather than the apocalypse--or
rather, aimed at a _present_moment_ of aesthetic shock in
the service of realization & liberation.

Art tells gorgeous lies that come true.

Is it possible to create a SECRET THEATER in which both
artist & audience have completely disappeared--only to re-
appear on another plane, where life & art have become the
same thing, the pure giving of gifts?

(Note: The "Salon Apocalypse" was organized by Sharon Gannon
in July, 1986.)

II. Murder--War--Famine--Greed

THE MANICHEES & CATHARS believed that the body can be
spiritualized--or rather, that the body merely contaminates
pure spirit & must be utterly rejected. The Gnostic
_perfecti_ (radical dualists) starved themselves to death to
escape the body & return to the pleroma of pure light.
So: to evade the evils of the flesh--murder, war, famine,
greed--paradoxically only one path remains: murder of one's
own body, war on the flesh, famine unto death, greed for
salvation.
The radical monists however (Ismailis, Ranters, Antinomians)
consider that body & spirit are one, that the same spirit
which pervades a black stone also infuses the flesh with its
light; that all lives & all is life. "Things are what they
are spontaneously...everything is natural...all in motion as
if there were a True Lord to move them--but if we seek for
evidence of this lord we fail to find any." (Kuo Hsiang)

Paradoxically, the monist path also cannot be followed
without some sort of "murder, war, famine, greed": the
transformation of death into life (food, negentropy)--war
against the Empire of Lies--"fasting of the soul," or
renunciation of the Lie, of all that is not life--& greed
for life itself, the absolute power of desire.

Even more: without knowledge of the darkness ("carnal
knowledge") there can exist no knowledge of the light
("gnosis"). The two knowledges are not merely complementary:
say rather _identical_, like the same note played in
different octaves. Heraclitus claims that reality persists
in a state of "war." Only clashing notes can make harmony.
("Chaos is the sum of all orders.")
Give each of these four terms a different mask of language
(to call the Furies "The Kindly Ones" is not mere euphemism
but a way of uncovering _yet_more_meaning_). Masked,
ritualized, realized as art, the terms take on their dark
beauty, their "Black Light."

Instead of murder say _the_hunt_, the pure paleolithic
economy of all archaic and non-authoritarian tribal society-
-"venery," both the killing & eating of flesh & the way of
Venus, of desire. Instead of war say _insurrection_, not the
revolution of classes & powers but of the eternal rebel, the
dark one who uncovers light. Instead of greed say
_yearning_, unconquerable desire, mad love. And then instead
of famine, which is a kind of mutilation, speak of
wholeness, plenty, superabundance, generosity of the self
which spirals outward toward the Other.

Without this dance of masks, nothing will be created. The
oldest mythology makes Eros the firstborn of Chaos. Eros,
the wild one who tames, is the door through which the artist
returns to Chaos, the One, and then re-returns, comes back
again, bearing one of the patterns of beauty. The artist,
the hunter, the warrior: one who is both passionate and
balanced, both greedy & altruistic to the utmost extreme. We
must be saved from all salvations which save us from
ourselves, from our _animal_ which is also our _anima_, our
very lifeforce, as well as our _animus_, our animating self-
empowerment, which may even manifest as anger & greed.
BABYLON has told us that our flesh is filth--with this
device & the promise of salvation it enslaved us. But--if
the flesh is already "saved," already _light_--if even
consciousness itself is a kind of flesh, a palpable &
simultaneous living aether--then we need no power to
intercede for us. The wilderness, as Omar says, is paradise
_even_now_.

The true proprietorship of _murder_ lies with the Empire,
for only freedom is complete life. _War_ is Babylonian as
well--no free person will die for another's aggrandizement.
_Famine_ comes into existence _only_ with the civilization
of the saviors, the priest-kings--wasn't it Joseph who
taught Pharaoh to speculate in grain futures? _Greed_--for
land, for symbolic wealth, for power to deform others' souls
& bodies for their own _salvation_--greed too arises not
from "Nature nature-ing," but from the damming up &
canalization of all energies for the Empire's Glory.
Against all this, the artist possesses the dance of masks,
the total radicalization of language, the invention of a
"Poetic Terrorism" which will strike not at living beings
but at malign _ideas_, dead-weights on the coffin-lid of our
desires. The architecture of suffocation and paralysis will
be _blown_up_ only by our total celebration of everything--
even darkness.

--Summer Solstice, 1986

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #7

Psychic Paleolithism & High Technology: A Position Paper

JUST BECAUSE THE A.O.A. talks about "Paleolithism" all the
time, don't get the idea we intend to bomb ourselves back to
the Stone Age.

We have no interest in going "back to the land" if the deal
includes the boring life of a shit-kicking peasant--nor do
we want "tribalism" if it comes with taboos, fetishes &
malnutrition. We have no quarrel with the concept of
_culture_--including _technology_; for us the problem begins
with _civilization_.

What we like about Paleolithic life has been summed up by
the Peoples-Without-Authority School of anthropology: the
elegant laziness of hunter/gatherer society, the 2-hour
workday, the obsession with art, dance, poetry &
amorousness, the "democratization of shamanism," the
cultivation of perception--in short, culture.

What we dislike about civilization can be deduced from the
following progression: the "Agricultural Revolution"; the
emergence of caste; the City & its cult of hieratic control
("Babylon"); slavery; dogma; imperialism ("Rome"). The
suppression of sexuality in "work" under the aegis of
"authority." "The Empire never ended."

A _psychic_paleolithism_ based on High-Tech--post-
agricultural, post-industrial, "Zerowork," nomadic (or
"Rootless Cosmopolitan")--a Quantum Paradigm Society--this
constitutes the ideal vision of the future according to
Chaos Theory as well as "Futurology" (in the Robert Anton
Wilson-T. Leary sense of the term).

As for the present: we reject all collaboration with the
Civilization of Anorexia & Bulimia, with people so ashamed
of never suffering that they invent hair shirts for
themselves & others--or those who gorge without compassion &
then spew the vomit of their suppressed guilt in great
masochistic bouts of jogging & dieting. All _our_ pleasures
& self-disciplines belong to us by Nature--we never deny
ourselves, we never give up anything; but some things have
given up on us & left us, because we are too large for them.
I am both caveman & starfaring mutant, con-man & free
prince. Once an Indian Chief was invited to the White House
for a banquet. As the food passed round, the Chief heaped
his plate to the max, not once but three times. At last the
honky sitting next to him says, "Chief, heh-heh, don't you
think that's a little too much?" "Ugh," the Chief replies,
"little too much _just_right_ for Chief!"

Nevertheless, certain doctrines of "Futurology" remain
problematic. For example, even if we accept the liberatory
potential of such new technologies as TV, computers,
robotics, Space exploration, etc., we still see a gap
between potentiality & actualization. The banalization of
TV, the yuppification of computers & the militarization of
Space suggest that these technologies in themselves provide
no "determined" guarantee of their liberatory use.

Even if we reject the Nuclear Holocaust as just another
Spectacular Diversion orchestrated to distract our attention
from _real_ problems, we must still admit that "Mutual
Assured Destruction" & "Pure War" tend to dampen our
enthusiasm for certain aspects of the High-Tech Adventure.
Ontological Anarchy retains its affection for Luddism as a
tactic: if a given technology, no matter how admirable
_in_potentia_ (in the future), is used to oppress me here &
now, then I must either wield the weapon of sabotage or else
seize the means of production (or perhaps more importantly
the means of _communication_). There is no humanity without
_techne_--but there is no _techne_ worth more than my
humanity.

We spurn knee-jerk anti-Tech anarchism--for ourselves, at
least (there exist some who enjoy farming, or so one hears)-
-and we reject the concept of the Technological Fix as well.
For us all forms of determinism appear equally vapid--we're
slaves of neither our genes nor our machines. What is
"natural" is what we _imagine_&_create_. "Nature has no Laws-
-only habits."

Life for us belongs neither to the Past--that land of famous
ghosts hoarding their tarnished grave-
goods--nor to the Future, whose bulbbrained mutant citizens
guard so jealously the secrets of immortality, faster-than-
light flight, designer genes & the withering of the State.
_Aut_nunc_aut_nihil_. Each moment contains an eternity to be
penetrated--yet we lose ourselves in visions seen through
corpses' eyes, or in nostalgia for unborn perfections.

The attainments of my ancestors & descendants are nothing
more to me than an instructive or amusing tale--I will never
call them my betters, even to excuse my own smallness. I
print for myself a license to steal from them whatever I
need--psychic paleolithism or high-tech--or for that matter
the gorgeous detritus of civilization itself, secrets of the
Hidden Masters, pleasures of frivolous nobility &
_la_vie_boheme_.

_La_decadence_, Nietzsche to the contrary notwithstanding,
plays as deep a role in Ontological Anarchy as health--we
take what we want of each. Decadent aesthetes do not wage
stupid wars nor submerge their consciousness in
microcephalic greed & resentment. They seek adventure in
artistic innovation & non-ordinary sexuality rather than in
the misery of others. The A.O.A. admires & emulates their
sloth, their disdain for the stupidity of normalcy, their
expropriation of aristocratic sensibilities. For us these
qualities harmonize paradoxically with those of the Old
Stone Age & its overflowing health, ignorance of hierarchy,
cultivation of _virtu_ rather than _Law_. We demand
decadence without sickness, & health without boredom!

Thus the A.O.A. gives unqualified support to all indigenous
& tribal peoples in their struggle for complete autonomy--&
at the same time, to the wildest, most Spaced-out
speculations & demands of the Futurologists. The
paleolithism of the future (which for us, as mutants,
already exists) will be achieved on a grand scale only
through a massive technology of the Imagination, and a
scientific paradigm which reaches beyond Quantum Mechanics
into the realm of Chaos Theory & the hallucinations of
Speculative Fiction.

As Rootless Cosmopolitans we lay claim to all the beauties
of the past, of the orient, of tribal societies--all this
must & can be ours, even the treasuries of the Empire: ours
to share. And at the same time we demand a technology which
transcends agriculture, industry, even the simultaneity of
electricity, a hardware that intersects with the wetware of
consciousness, that embraces the power of quarks, of
particles travelling backward in time, of quasars & parallel
universes.

The squabbling ideologues of anarchism & libertarianism each
prescribe some utopia congenial to their various brands of
tunnel-vision, ranging from the peasant commune to the L-5
Space City. We say, let a thousand flowers bloom--with no
gardener to lop off weeds & sports according to some
moralizing or eugenical scheme. The only true conflict is
that between the authority of the tyrant & the authority of
the realized self--all else is illusion, psychological
projection, wasted verbiage.

In one sense the sons & daughters of Gaia have never left
the paleolithic; in another sense, all the perfections of
the future are already ours. Only insurrection will "solve"
this paradox--only the uprising against false consciousness
in both ourselves & others will sweep away the technology of
oppression & the poverty of the Spectacle. In this battle a
painted mask or shaman's rattle may prove as vital as the
seizing of a communications satellite or secret computer
network.

Our sole criterion for judging a weapon or a tool is its
beauty. The means already _are_ the end, in a certain sense;
the insurrection already _is_ our adventure; Becoming IS
Being. Past & future exist within us & for us, alpha &
omega. There are no other gods before or after us. We are
free in TIME--and will be free in SPACE as well.

(Thanx to Hagbard Celine the Sage of Howth & Environs)

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #8

Chaos Theory & the Nuclear Family

SUNDAY IN RIVERSIDE PARK the Fathers fix their sons in
place, nailing them magically to the grass with baleful
ensorcelling stares of milky camaraderie, & force them to
throw baseballs back & forth for hours. The boys almost
appear to be small St Sebastians pierced by arrows of
boredom.

The smug rituals of family fun turn each humid Summer meadow
into a Theme Park, each son an unwitting allegory of
Father's wealth, a pale representation 2 or 3 times removed
from reality: the Child as metaphor of Something-or-other.

And here I come as dusk gathers, stoned on mushroom dust,
half convinced that these hundreds of fireflies arise from
my own consciousness--Where have they been all these years?
why so many so suddenly?--each rising in the moment of its
incandescence, describing quick arcs like abstract graphs of
the energy in sperm.

"Families! misers of love! How I hate them!" Baseballs fly
aimlessly in vesper light, catches are missed, voices rise
in peevish exhaustion. The children feel sunset encrusting
the last few hours of doled-out freedom, but still the
Fathers insist on stretching the tepid postlude of their
patriarchal sacrifice till dinnertime, till shadows eat the
grass.

Among these sons of the gentry one locks gazes with me for a
moment--I transmit telepathically the image of sweet
license, the smell of TIME unlocked from all grids of
school, music lessons, summer camps, family evenings round
the tube, Sundays in the Park with Dad--authentic time,
chaotic time.

Now the family is leaving the Park, a little platoon of
dissatisfaction. But _that_one_ turns & smiles back at me in
complicity--"Message Received"--& dances away after a
firefly, buoyed up by my desire. The Father barks a mantra
which dissipates my power.

The moment passes. The boy is swallowed up in the pattern of
the week--vanishes like a bare-legged pirate or Indian taken
prisoner by missionaries. The Park knows who I am, it stirs
under me like a giant jaguar about to wake for nocturnal
meditation. Sadness still holds it back, but it remains
untamed in its deepest essence: an exquisite disorder at the
heart of the city's night.

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #9

Double-Dip Denunciations

I. Xtianity

AGAIN & AGAIN WE hope that attitudinizing corpse has finally
breathed its last rancorous sigh & floated off to its final
pumpkinification. Again & again we imagine the defeat of
that obscene flayed death-trip bogey nailed to the walls of
all our waiting rooms, never again to whine at us for our
sins...

but again & again it resurrects itself & comes creeping back
to haunt us like the villain of some _n_th rate snuff-porn
splatter film--the thousandth re-make of
_Night_of_the_Living_Dead_--trailing its snail-track of
whimpering humiliation...just when you thought it was safe
in the unconscious...it's JAWS for JESUS. Look out! Hardcore
Chainsaw Baptists!

and the Leftists, nostalgic for the Omega Point of their
dialectical paradise, welcome each galvanized revival of the
putrescent creed with coos of delight: Let's dance the tango
with all those marxist bishops from Latin America--croon a
ballad for the pious Polish dockworkers--hum spirituals for
the latest afro-Methodist presidential hopeful from the
Bible Belt...

The A.O.A. denounces Liberation Theology as a conspiracy of
stalinist nuns--the Whore of Babylon's secret scarlet deal
with red fascism in the tropics. _Solidarnosc?_ The Pope's
Own Labor Union--backed by the AFL/CIO, the Vatican Bank,
the Freemason Lodge Propaganda Due, and the Mafia. And if we
ever voted we'd never waste that empty gesture on some Xtian
dog, no matter what its breed or color.

As for the _real_ Xtians, those bored-again self-lobotomized
bigots, those Mormon babykillers, those Star Warriors of the
Slave Morality, televangelist blackshirts, zombie squads of
the Blessed Virgin Mary (who hovers in a pink cloud over the
Bronx spewing hatred, anathema, roses of vomit on the
sexuality of children, pregnant teenagers & queers)...

As for the genuine death-cultists, ritual cannibals,
Armageddon-freaks--the Xtian Right--we can only pray that
the RAPTURE WILL COME & snatch them all up from behind the
steering wheels of their cars, from their lukewarm game
shows & chaste beds, take them all up into heaven & let _us_
get on with _human_life_.

II. Abortionists & Anti-abortionists

REDNECKS WHO BOMB ABORTION clinics belong in the same
grotesque category of vicious stupidity as bishops who
prattle Peace & yet condemn all human sexuality. Nature has
no laws ("only habits"), & all law is unnatural.
_Everything_ belongs to the sphere of personal/imaginal
morality--even murder.

However, according to Chaos Theory, it does not follow that
we are obliged to like & approve of murder--or abortion.
Chaos would enjoy seeing every bastard love-child carried to
term & birthed; sperm & egg alone are mere lovely
secretions, but combined as DNA they become potential
consciousness, negentropy, joy.

If "meat is murder!" as the Vegans like to claim, what pray
tell is abortion? Those totemists who danced to the animals
they hunted, who meditated to become one with their living
food & share its tragedy, demonstrated values far more
humane than the average claque of "pro-Choice" feminoid
liberals.

In every single "issue" cooked up for "debate" in the
patternbook of the Spectacle, _both_sides_ are invariably
full of shit. The "abortion issue" is no exception..

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #10

Plenary Session Issues New Denunciations--Purges Expected

TO OFFSET ANY STICKY karma we might have acquired thru our
pulpit-thumping sermonette against Xtians & other end-of-the-
world creeps (see last ish) & just to set the record
straight: the A.O.A. also denounces all born-again knee-jerk
_atheists_ & their frowsy late-Victorian luggage of
scientistic vulgar materialism. ///// We applaud all anti-
Xtian sentiment, of course--& all attacks on _all_ organized
religions. But...to hear some anarchists talk you'd think
the sixties never happened and no one ever dropped LSD.
///// As for the scientists themselves, the Alice-like
madnesses of Quantum & Chaos Theory have driven the best of
them towards taoism & vedanta (not to mention dada)--& yet
if you read _The_Match_ or _Freedom_ you might imagine
science was embalmed with Prince Kropotkin--& "religion"
with Bishop Ussher. ///// Of course one despises the
Aquarian brownshirts, the kind of gurus lauded recently in
the _New_York_Times_ for their contributions to Big
Business, the franchise-granting yuppie zombie cults, the
anorexic metaphysics of New Age banality...but OUR
esotericism remains undefiled by these mediocre money-
changers & their braindead minions. ///// The heretics &
antinomian mystics of Orient & Occident have developed
systems based on _inner_liberation_. Some of these systems
are tainted with religious mysticism & even social reaction-
-others seem more purely radical or "psychological"--& some
even crystallize into revolutionary movements (millenarian
Levellers, Assassins, Yellow Turban Taoists, etc.) Whatever
their flaws they possess certain magical weapons which
anarchism sorely lacks: (1) A sense of the _meta-rational_
("metanoia"), ways to go beyond laminated thinking into
smooth (or nomadic or "chaotic") thinking & perception; (2)
an actual definition of self-realized or liberated
consciousness, a positive description of its structure, &
techniques for approaching it; (3) a coherent archetypal
view of epistemology--that is, a way of knowing (about
history, for example) that utilizes hermeneutic
phenomenology to uncover patterns of _meaning_ (something
like the Surrealists' "Paranoia Criticism"); (4) a teaching
on sexuality (in the "tantrik" aspects of various Paths)
that assigns value to pleasure rather than self-denial, not
only for its own sake but as a vehicle of enhanced awareness
or "liberation"; (5) an attitude of celebration, what might
be called a "Jubilee concept," a cancelling of psychic debt
thru some inherent generosity in reality itself; (6) a
_language_ (including gesture, ritual, intentionality) with
which to animate & communicate these five aspects of
cognition; and (7) a silence. ///// It's no surprise to
discover how many anarchists are ex-Catholics, defrocked
priests or nuns, former altar boys, lapsed born-again
baptists or even ex-Shiite fanatics. Anarchism offers up a
black (& red) Mass to de-ritualize all spook-haunted brains-
-a secular exorcism--but then betrays itself by cobbling
together a High Church of its own, all cobwebby with Ethical
Humanism, Free Thought, Muscular Atheism, & crude
Fundamentalist Cartesian Logic. ///// Two decades ago we
began the project of becoming Rootless Cosmopolitans,
determined to sift the detritus of all tribes, cultures &
civilizations (including our own) for viable fragments--& to
synthesize from this mess of potsherds a living system of
our own--lest (as Blake warned) we become slaves to someone
else's. ///// If some Javanese sorcerer or Native American
shaman possesses some precious fragment I need for my own
"medicine pouch," should I sneer & quote Bakunin's line
about stringing up priests with bankers' guts? or should I
remember that anarchy knows no dogma, that Chaos cannot be
mapped--& help myself to anything not nailed down? ///// The
earliest definitions of anarchy are found in the
_Chuang_Tzu_ & other taoist texts; "mystical anarchism"
boasts a hoarier pedigree than the Greco-Rationalist
variety. When Nietzsche spoke of the "Hyperboreans" I think
he foretold _us_, who have gone beyond the death of God--&
the rebirth of the Goddess--to a realm where spirit & matter
are one. Every manifestation of that hierogamy, every
material thing & every life, becomes not only "sacred" in
itself but also symbolic of its own "divine essence." /////
Atheism is nothing but the opiate of The Masses (or rather,
their self-chosen champions)--& not a very colorful or sexy
drug. If we are to follow Baudelaire's advice & "be always
intoxicated," the A.O.A. would prefer something more like
mushrooms, thank you. Chaos is the oldest of the gods--&
Chaos never died.

*  *  *  *  *

COMMUNIQUE #11

Special Holiday Season Food Issue Rant: Turn Off the Lite!

THE ASSOCIATION FOR ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHY calls for a boycott
of all products marketed under the Shibboleth of LITE--beer,
meat, lo-cal candy, cosmetics, music, pre-packaged
"lifestyles," whatever.

The concept of LITE (in Situ-jargon) unfolds a complex of
symbolism by which the Spectacle hopes to recuperate all
revulsion against its commodification of desire. "Natural,"
"organic," "healthy" produce is designed for a market sector
of mildly dissatisfied consumers with mild cases of future-
shock & mild yearnings for a tepid authenticity. A niche has
been prepared for _you_, softly illumined with the illusions
of simplicity, cleanliness, thinness, a dash of asceticism &
self-denial. Of course, it costs a little more...after all,
LITEness was not designed for poor hungry primitivos who
still think of food as nourishment rather than decor. It
_has_ to cost more--otherwise _you_ wouldn't buy it.

The American Middle Class (don't quibble; you know what I
mean) falls naturally into opposite but complementary
factions: the Armies of Anorexia & Bulimia. Clinical cases
of these diseases represent only the psychosomatic froth on
a wave of cultural pathology, deep, diffused & largely
unconscious. The Bulimics are those yupped-out gentry who
gorge on margharitas & VCRs, then purge on LITE food,
jogging, or (an)aerobic jiggling. The Anorexics are the
"lifestyle" rebels, ultra-food-faddists, eaters of algae,
joyless, dispirited & wan--but smug in their puritanical
zeal & their designer hair-shirts. Grotesque junk food
simply represents the flip-side of ghoulish "health food":--
nothing tastes like anything but woodchips or additives--
it's all either boring or carcinogenic--or both--& it's all
incredibly _stupid_.

Food, cooked or raw, cannot escape from symbolism. It _is_,
& also simultaneously _represents_ that which it is. All
food is soul food; to treat it otherwise is to court
indigestion, both chronic & metaphysical.

But in the airless vault of our civilization, where nearly
every experience is mediated, where reality is strained
through the deadening mesh of consensus-perception, we lose
touch with food as _nourishment_; we begin to construct for
ourselves personae based on what we consume, treating
_products_ as projections of our yearning for the authentic.

The A.O.A. sometimes envisions CHAOS as a cornucopia of
continual creation, as a sort of geyser of cosmic
generosity; therefore we refrain from advocating any
specific diet, lest we offend against the Sacred
Multiplicity & the Divine Subjectivity. We're not about to
hawk you yet another New Age prescription for perfect health
(only the dead are perfectly healthy); we interest ourselves
in _life_, not "lifestyles."

True lightness we adore, & rich heaviness delights us in its
season. Excess suits us to perfection, moderation pleases
us, & we have learned that hunger can be the finest of all
spices. Everything _is_ light, & the lushest flowers grow
round the privy. We dream of phalanstery tables & bolo'bolo
cafes where every festive collective of diners will share
the individual genius of a Brillat-Savarin (that saint of
taste).

Shaykh Abu Sa'id never saved money or even kept it overnight-
-therefore, whenever some patron donated a heavy purse to
his hospice, the dervishes celebrated with a gourmet feast;
& on other days, all went hungry. The point was to enjoy
both states, full & empty...

LITE parodies spiritual emptiness & illumination, just as
McDonald's travesties the imagery of fullness & celebration.
The human spirit (not to mention _hunger_) can overcome &
transcend all this fetishism--joy can erupt even at Burger
King, & even LITE beer may hide a dose of Dionysus. But why
should we have to struggle against this garbagy tide of
cheap rip-off ticky-tack, when we could be drinking the wine
of paradise even now under our own vine & fig tree?

Food belongs to the realm of everyday life, the primary
arena for all insurrectionary self-empowerment, all
spiritual self-enhancement, all seizing-back of pleasure,
all revolt against the Planetary Work Machine & its
imitation desires. Far be it from us to dogmatize; the
Native American hunter might fuel his happiness with fried
squirrel, the anarcho-taoist with a handful of dried
apricots. Milarepa the Tibetan, after ten years of nettle-
soup, ate a butter cake & achieved enlightenment. The
dullard sees no _eros_ in fine champagne; the sorcerer can
fall intoxicated on a glass of water.

Our culture, choking on its own pollutants, cries out (like
the dying Goethe) for "More LITE!"--as if these
polyunsaturated effluents could somehow assuage our misery,
as if their bland weightless tasteless characterlessness
could protect us from the gathering dark.

No! This last illusion finally strikes us as too cruel. We
are forced against our own slothful inclinations to take a
stand & protest. Boycott! Boycott! TURN OFF THE LITE!

Appendix: Menu For An Anarchist Black Banquet (veg & non-
veg)

Caviar & blinis; Hundred year old eggs; Squid & rice cooked
in ink; Eggplants cooked in their skins with black pickled
garlic; Wild rice with black walnuts & black mushrooms;
Truffles in black butter; Venison marinated in port,
charcoal grilled, served on pumpernickel slices & garnished
with roast chestnuts. Black Russians; Guiness-&-champagne;
Chinese black tea. Dark chocolate mousse, Turkish coffee,
black grapes, plums, cherries, etc.

*  *  *  *  *

SPECIAL HALLOWEEN COMMUNIQUE

Black Magic as Revolutionary Action

PREPARE AN INK OF pure & genuine saffron mixed with rose-
water, adding if possible some blood from a black rooster.
In a quiet room furnish an altar with a bowl of the ink, a
pen with an iron nib, 7 black candles, an incense burner, &
some benzoin. The charm may be written on virgin paper or
parchment. Draw the diagram at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday, facing
North. Copy the 7-headed diagram (see illustration) without
lifting the pen from the paper, in one smooth operation,
holding your breath & pressing your tongue to the roof of
your mouth. This is the _Barisan_Laksamana_, or King of the
Djinn. Then draw the Solomon's Seal (a star representing a 5-
headed djinn) & other parts of the diagram. Above Solomon's
Seal write the name of the individual or institution to be
cursed. Now hold the paper in the benzoin fumes, & invoke
the white & black djinn _within_yourself_:

Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Rahim
as-salaam alikum
O White Djinn, Radiance of Mohammad
king of all spirits within me
O Black Djinn, shadow of myself
AWAY, destroy my enemy
--and if you do not
then be considered a traitor to Allah
--by virtue of the charm
La illaha ill'Allah

Mohammad ar-Rasul Allah

If the curse is to be aimed at an individual oppressor, a
wax doll may be prepared & the charm inserted (see
illustration).

Seven needles are then driven downward into the top of the
head, thru the left & right armpits, left & right hips, &
thru the lips or nostrils. Wrap the doll in a white shroud &
bury it in the ground where the enemy is sure to walk over
it, meanwhile enlisting the aid of local earth spirits:

Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Rahim
O Earth Djinn, Dirt-spirit
O Black Djinn living underground
listen, vampire of the soil
I order you to mark & destroy
the body & soul of _____________
Heed my orders
for I am the true & original sorcerer
by virtue of the charm
la illaha ill'Allah

Mohammad ar-Rasul Allah

If however the curse is intended for an institution or
company, assemble the following items: a hard-boiled egg, an
iron nail, & 3 iron pins (stick nail & needles into egg);
dried scorpion, lizard &/or beetles; a small chamois bag
containing graveyard dirt, magnetized iron fillings,
asafoetida & sulphur, & tied with a red ribbon. Sew the
charm into yellow silk & seal it with red wax. Place all
these things in a wide-necked bottle, cork it, & seal it
with wax.

The bottle may now be carefully packaged & sent by mail to
the target institution--for example a Xtian televangelist
show, the _New_York_Post_, the MUZAK company, a school or
college--along with a copy of the following statement (extra
copies may be mailed to individual employees, &/or posted
surreptitiously around the premises):

Malay Black Djinn Curse

_These_premises_have_been_cursed_by_black_sorcery._The_curse
_has_been_activated_according_to_correct_rituals._This_insti
tution_is_cursed_because_it_has_oppressed_the_Imagination_&_
defiled_the_Intellect,_degraded_the_arts_toward_stupefaction
,_spiritual_slavery,_propaganda_for_State_&_Capital,_puritan
ical_reaction,_unjust_profits,_lies_&_aesthetic_blight_.
_The_employees_of_this_institution_are_now_in_danger._No_ind
ividual_has_been_cursed,_but_the_place_itself_has_been_infec
ted_with_ill_fortune_&_malignancy._Those_who_do_not_wake_up_
&_quit,_or_begin_sabotaging_the_workplace,_will_gradually_fa
ll_under_the_effect_of_this_sorcery._Removing_or_destroying_
the_implement_of_sorcery_will_do_no_good._It_has_been_seen_i
n_this_place,_&_this_place_is_cursed._Reclaim_your_humanity_
&_revolt_in_the_name_of_the_Imagination--
_or_else_be_judged_(in_the_mirror_of_this_charm)_an_enemy_of
_the_human_race_.

We suggest "taking credit" for this action in the name of
some other offensive cultural institution, such as the
American Poetry Society or the Women's Anti-Porn Crusade
(give full address).
We also suggest, in order to counter-balance the effect on
yourself of calling up the personal black djinn, that you
send a _magical_blessing_ to someone or some group you love
&/or admire. Do this anonymously, & make the gift beautiful.
No precise ritual need be followed, but the imagery should
be allowed to spring from the well of consciousness in an
intuitive/spontaneous meditational state. Use sweet incense,
red & white candles, hard candy, wine, flowers, etc. If
possible include real silver, gold, or jewels in the gift.

This how-to-do-it manual on the Malay Black Djinn Curse has
been prepared according to authentic & complete ritual by
the Cultural Terrorism Committee of the inner Adept Chamber
of the HMOCA ("Third Paradise"). We are Nizari-Ismaili
Esotericists; that is, Shiite heretics & fanatics who trace
our spiritual line to Hassan-i Sabbah through Aladdin
Mohammad III "the Madman," seventh & last Pir of Alamut (&
not through the line of the Aga Khans). We espouse radical
monism & pure antinomianism, & oppose _all_ forms of law &
authority, in the name of Chaos.

At present, for tactical reasons, we do not advocate
violence or sorcery against individuals. We call for actions
against _institutions_ & _ideas_--art-sabotage & clandestine
propaganda (including ceremonial magic & "tantrik
pornography")--and especially against the poisonous media of
the Empire of Lies. The Black Djinn Curse represents only a
first step in the campaign of Poetic Terrorism which--we
trust--will lead to other less subtle forms of insurrection.

*  *  *  *  *

SPECIAL COMMUNIQUE

A.O.A. Announces Purges in Chaos Movement

CHAOS THEORY MUST OF course flow _impurely_. "Lazy yokel
plows a crooked furrow." Any attempt to precipitate a
crystal of ideology would result in flawed rigidities,
fossilizations, armorings & drynesses which we would like to
renounce, along with all "purity." Yes, Chaos revels in a
certain abandoned formlessness not unlike the erotic
messiness of those we love for their shattering of habit &
their unveiling of mutability. Nevertheless this looseness
does not imply that Chaos Theory must accept every leech
that attempts to attach itself to our sacred membranes.
Certain definitions or deformations of Chaos deserve
denunciation, & our dedication to divine disorder need not
deter us from trashing the traitors & rip-off artists &
psychic vampires now buzzing around Chaos under the
impression that it's trendy. We propose not an Inquisition
in the name of _our_ definitions, but rather a duel, a
brawl, an act of violence or emotional repugnance, an
exorcism. First we'd like to define & even name our enemies.
(1) All those death-heads & mutilation artists who associate
Chaos exclusively with misery, negativity & a joyless pseudo-
libertinism--those who think "beyond good & evil" means
doing evil--the S/M intellectuals, crooners of the
apocalypse--the new Gnostic Dualists, world-haters & ugly
nihilists. (2) All those scientists selling Chaos either as
a force for destruction (e.g. particle-beam weapons) or as a
mechanism for enforcing order, as in the use of Chaos math
in statistical sociology and mob control. An attempt will be
made to discover names and addresses in this category. (3)
All those who appropriate Chaos in the cause of some New Age
scam. Of course _we_ have no objection to your giving us all
your money, but we'll tell you up front: we'll use it to buy
dope or fly to Morocco. You can't sell water by the river;
Chaos is that _materia_ of which the alchemists spoke, which
fools value more highly than gold even tho it may be found
on any dungheap. The chief enemy in this category is Werner
Erhardt, founder of _est_, who is now bottling "Chaos" &
trying to franchise it to the Yuppoids. Second, we will list
some of our friends, in order to give an idea of the
disparate trends in Chaos Theory we enjoy: Chaotica, the
imaginal autonomous zone discovered by Feral Faun (a.k.a.
Feral Ranter); the Academy of Chaotic Arts of Tundra Wind;
Joel Birnoco's magazine _KAOS_; _Chaos_Inc._, a newsletter
connected to the work of Ralph Abraham, a leading Chaos
scientist; the Church of Eris; Discordian Zen; the Moorish
Orthodox Church; certain clenches of the Church of the
SubGenius; the Sacred Jihad of Our Lady of Perpetual Chaos;
the writers associated with "type-3 anarchism" & journals
like _Popular_Reality_; etc. The battle lines are drawn.
Chaos is not entropy, Chaos is not death, Chaos is not a
commodity. Chaos is continual creation. Chaos never died.

*  *  *  *  *

POST-ANARCHISM ANARCHY

THE ASSOCIATION FOR ONTOLOGICAL ANARCHY gathers in conclave,
black turbans & shimmering robes, sprawled on shirazi
carpets sipping bitter coffee, smoking long chibouk & sibsi.
QUESTION: What's our position on all these recent defections
& desertions from anarchism (esp. in California-Land):
condemn or condone? Purge them or hail them as advance-
guard? Gnostic elite...or traitors?

Actually, we have a lot of sympathy for the deserters &
their various critiques of anarchISM. Like Sinbad & the
Horrible Old Man, anarchism staggers around with the corpse
of a Martyr magically stuck to its shoulders--haunted by the
legacy of failure & revolutionary masochism--stagnant
backwater of lost history.

Between tragic Past & impossible Future, anarchism seems to
lack a Present--as if afraid to ask itself, here & now, WHAT
ARE MY TRUE DESIRES?--& what can I DO before it's
_too_late_?...Yes, imagine yourself confronted by a sorcerer
who stares you down balefully & demands, "What is your True
Desire?" Do you hem & haw, stammer, take refuge in
ideological platitudes? Do you possess both Imagination &
Will, can you both dream & dare--or are you the dupe of an
impotent fantasy?

Look in the mirror & try it...(for one of your masks is the
face of a sorcerer)...

The anarchist "movement" today contains virtually no Blacks,
Hispanics, Native Americans or children...even tho
_in_theory_ such genuinely oppressed groups stand to gain
the most from any anti-authoritarian revolt. Might it be
that anarchISM offers no concrete program whereby the truly
deprived might fulfill (or at least struggle realistically
to fulfill) real needs & desires?

If so, then this failure would explain not only anarchism's
lack of appeal to the poor & marginal, but also the
disaffection & desertions from within its own ranks. Demos,
picket-lines & reprints of 19th century classics don't add
up to a vital, daring conspiracy of self-liberation. If the
movement is to grow rather than shrink, a lot of deadwood
will have to be jettisoned & some risky ideas embraced.

The potential exists. Any day now, vast numbers of americans
are going to realize they're being force-fed a load of
reactionary boring hysterical artificially-flavored _crap_.
Vast chorus of groans, puking & retching...angry mobs roam
the malls, smashing & looting...etc., etc. The Black Banner
could provide a focus for the outrage & channel it into an
insurrection of the Imagination. We could pick up the
struggle where it was dropped by Situationism in '68 &
Autonomia in the seventies, & carry it to the next stage. We
could have revolt in our times--& in the process, we could
realize many of our True Desires, even if only for a season,
a brief Pirate Utopia, a warped free-zone in the old
Space/Time continuum.

If the A.O.A. retains its affiliation with the "movement,"
we do so not merely out of a romantic predilection for lost
causes--or not entirely. Of all "political systems,"
anarchism (despite its flaws, & precisely because it is
neither political nor a system) comes closest to our
understanding of reality, ontology, the nature of being. As
for the deserters...we agree with their critiques, but note
that they seem to offer no new powerful alternatives. So for
the time being we prefer to concentrate on changing
anarchism from within. Here's our program, comrades:

1. Work on the realization that _psychic_racism_ has
replaced overt discrimination as one of the most disgusting
aspects of our society. Imaginative participation in other
cultures, esp. those we live with.

2. Abandon all ideological purity. Embrace "Type-3"
anarchism (to use Bob Black's pro-tem slogan): neither
collectivist nor individualist. Cleanse the temple of vain
idols, get rid of the Horrible Old Men, the relics &
martyrologies.

3. Anti-work or "Zerowork" movement extremely important,
including a radical & perhaps violent attack on Education &
the serfdom of children.

4. Develop american samizdat network, replace outdated
publishing/propaganda tactics.
Pornography & popular entertainment as vehicles for radical
re-education.

5. In music the hegemony of the 2/4 & 4/4 beat must be
overthrown. We need a new music, totally insane but life-
affirming, rhythmically subtle yet powerful, & we need it
NOW.

6. Anarchism must wean itself away from evangelical
materialism & banal 2-dimensional 19th century scientism.
"Higher states of consciousness" are not mere SPOOKS
invented by evil priests. The orient, the occult, the tribal
cultures possess _techniques_ which can be "appropriated" in
true anarchist fashion. Without "higher states of
consciousness," anarchism ends & dries itself up into a form
of misery, a whining complaint. We need a practical kind of
"mystical anarchism," devoid of all New Age shit-&-shinola,
& inexorably heretical & anti-clerical; avid for all new
technologies of consciousness & metanoia--a democratization
of shamanism, intoxicated & serene.

7. Sexuality is under assault, obviously from the Right,
more subtly from the avant-pseud "post-sexuality" movement,
& even more subtly by Spectacular Recuperation in media &
advertising. Time for a major step forward in SexPol
awareness, an explosive reaffirmation of the polymorphic
eros--(even & especially in the face of plague & gloom)--a
literal glorification of the senses, a doctrine of delight.
Abandon all world-hatred & shame.

8. Experiment with new tactics to replace the outdated
baggage of Leftism. Emphasize practical, material & personal
benefits of radical networking. The times do not appear
propitious for violence or militancy, but surely a bit of
sabotage & imaginative disruption is never out of place.
Plot & conspire, don't bitch & moan. The Art World in
particular deserves a dose of "Poetic Terrorism."

9. The despatialization of post-Industrial society provides
some benefits (e.g. computer networking) but can also
manifest as a form of oppression (homelessness,
gentrification, architectural depersonalization, the erasure
of Nature, etc.) The communes of the sixties tried to
circumvent these forces but failed. The question of _land_
refuses to go away. How can we separate the concept of
_space_ from the mechanisms of _control_? The territorial
gangsters, the Nation/States, have hogged the entire map.
Who can invent for us a cartography of autonomy, who can
draw a map that includes our desires?

AnarchISM ultimately implies anarchy--& anarchy is chaos.
Chaos is the principle of continual creation...&
_Chaos_never_died_.

--A.O.A. Plenary Session

March '87, NYC

*  *  *  *  *

BLACK CROWN & BLACK ROSE

Anarcho-Monarchism & Anarcho-Mysticism

IN SLEEP WE DREAM of only two forms of government--anarchy &
monarchy. Primordial root consciousness understands no
politics & never plays fair. A democratic dream? a socialist
dream? Impossible.

Whether my REMs bring verdical near-prophetic visions or
mere Viennese wish-fulfillment, only kings & wild people
populate my night. Monads & nomads.

Pallid day (when nothing shines by its own light) slinks &
insinuates & suggests that we compromise with a sad &
lackluster reality. But in dream we are never ruled except
by love or sorcery, which are the skills of chaotes &
sultans.

Among a people who cannot create or play, but can only
_work_, artists also know no choice but
anarchy & monarchy. Like the dreamer, they must possess &
_do_ possess their own perceptions, & for this they must
sacrifice the merely social to a "tyrannical Muse."
Art dies when treated "fairly." It must enjoy a caveman's
wildness or else have its mouth filled with gold by some
prince. Bureaucrats & sales personnel poison it, professors
chew it up, & philosophers spit it out. Art is a kind of
byzantine barbarity fit only for nobles & heathens.
If you had known the sweetness of life as a poet in the
reign of some venal, corrupt, decadent, ineffective &
ridiculous Pasha or Emir, some Qajar shah, some King Farouk,
some Queen of Persia, you would know that this is what every
anarchist must want. How they loved poems & paintings, those
dead luxurious fools, how they absorbed all roses & cool
breezes, tulips & lutes!
Hate their cruelty & caprice, yes--but at least they were
human. The bureaucrats, however, who smear the walls of the
mind with odorless filth--so kind, so _gemutlich_--who
pollute the inner air with numbness--they're not even worthy
of hate. They scarcely exist outside the bloodless Ideas
they serve.

And besides: the dreamer, the artist, the anarchist--do they
not share some tinge of cruel caprice with the most
outrageous of moghuls? Can genuine life occur without some
folly, some excess, some bouts of Heraclitan "strife"? We do
not rule--but we cannot & will not _be_ruled_.

In Russia the Narodnik-Anarchists would sometimes forge a
_ukase_ or manifesto in the name of the Czar; in it the
Autocrat would complain that greedy lords & unfeeling
officials had sealed him in his palace & cut him off from
his beloved people. He would proclaim the end of serfdom &
call on peasants & workers to rise in His Name against the
government.

Several times this ploy actually succeeded in sparking
revolts. Why? Because the single absolute ruler acts
metaphorically as a mirror for the unique and utter
absoluteness of the self. Each peasant looked into this
glassy legend & beheld his or her own freedom--an illusion,
but one that borrowed its magic from the logic of the dream.

A similar myth must have inspired the 17th century Ranters &
Antinomians & Fifth Monarchy Men who flocked to the Jacobite
standard with its erudite cabals & bloodproud conspiracies.
The radical mystics were betrayed first by Cromwell & then
by the Restoration--why not, finally, join with flippant
cavaliers & foppish counts, with Rosicrucians & Scottish
Rite Masons, to place an occult messiah on Albion's throne?

Among a people who cannot conceive human society without a
monarch, the desires of radicals may be expressed in
monarchical terms. Among a people who cannot conceive human
existence without a religion, radical desires may speak the
language of heresy.

Taoism rejected the whole of Confucian bureaucracy but
retained the image of the Emperor-Sage, who would sit silent
on his throne facing a propitious direction, doing
absolutely nothing.
In Islam the Ismailis took the idea of the Imam of the
Prophet's Household & metamorphosed it into the Imam-of-
one's-own-being, the perfected self who is beyond all Law &
rule, who is atoned with the One. And this doctrine led them
into revolt against Islam, to terror & assassination in the
name of pure esoteric self-liberation & total realization.

Classical 19th century anarchism defined itself in the
struggle against crown & church, & therefore on the waking
level it considered itself egalitarian & atheist. This
rhetoric however obscures what really happens: the "king"
becomes the "anarchist," the "priest" a "heretic." In this
strange duet of mutability the politician, the democrat, the
socialist, the rational ideologue can find no place; they
are deaf to the music & lack all sense of rhythm. Terrorist
& monarch are _archetypes_; these others are mere
functionaries.

Once anarch & king clutched each other's throats & waltzed a
totentanz--a splendid battle. Now, however, both are
relegated to history's trashbin--has-beens, curiosities of a
leisurely & more cultivated past. They whirl around so fast
that they seem to meld together...can they somehow have
become one thing, a Siamese twin, a Janus, a freakish unity?
"The sleep of Reason..." ah! most desirable & desirous
monsters!

Ontological Anarchy proclaims flatly, bluntly, & almost
brainlessly: yes, the two are now one. As a single entity
the anarch/king now is reborn; each of us the ruler of our
own flesh, our own creations--and as much of everything else
as we can grab & hold.

Our actions are justified by fiat & our relations are shaped
by treaties with other autarchs. We make the law for our own
domains--& the chains of the law have been broken. At
present perhaps we survive as mere Pretenders--but even so
we may seize a few instants, a few square feet of reality
over which to impose our absolute will, our _royaume_.
_L'etat_,_c'est_moi_.

If we are bound by any ethic or morality it must be one
which we ourselves have imagined, fabulously more exalted &
more liberating than the "moralic acid" of puritans &
humanists. "Ye are as gods"--"Thou art That."

The words _monarchism_ & _mysticism_ are used here in part
simply _pour_epater_ those egalito-atheist anarchists who
react with pious horror to any mention of pomp or
superstition-mongering. No champagne revolutions for _them_!

Our brand of anti-authoritarianism, however, thrives on
baroque paradox; it favors states of consciousness, emotion
& aesthetics over all petrified ideologies & dogma; it
embraces multitudes & relishes contradictions. Ontological
Anarchy is a hobgoblin for BIG minds.
The translation of the title (& key term) of Max Stirner's
magnum opus as _The_Ego_&_Its_Own_ has led to a subtle
misinterpretation of "individualism." The English-Latin word
_ego_ comes freighted & weighed with freudian & protestant
baggage. A careful reading of Stirner suggests that
_The_Unique_&_His_Own-ness_ would better reflect his
intentions, given that he never defines the ego
_in_opposition_to_ libido or id, or in opposition to "soul"
or "spirit." The Unique (_der_Einzige_) might best be
construed simply as the individual self.

Stirner commits no metaphysics, yet bestows on the Unique a
certain absoluteness. In what way then does this _Einzige_
differ from the Self of Advaita Vedanta? _Tat_tvam_asi_:
Thou (individual Self) art That (absolute Self).

Many believe that mysticism "dissolves the ego." Rubbish.
Only death does that (or such at least is our Sadducean
assumption). Nor does mysticism destroy the "carnal" or
"animal" self--which would also amount to suicide. What
mysticism really tries to surmount is false consciousness,
illusion, Consensus Reality, & all the failures of self that
accompany these ills. True mysticism creates a "self at
peace," a self with power. The highest task of metaphysics
(accomplished for example by Ibn Arabi, Boehme, Ramana
Maharshi) is in a sense to self-destruct, to identify
metaphysical & physical, transcendent & immanent, as ONE.
Certain _radical_monists_ have pushed this doctrine far
beyond mere pantheism or religious mysticism. An
apprehension of the immanent oneness of being inspires
certain antinomian heresies (the Ranters, the Assassins)
whom we consider our ancestors.

Stirner himself seems deaf to the possible spiritual
resonances of Individualism--& in this he belongs to the
19th century: born long after the deliquescence of
Christendom, but long before the discovery of the Orient &
of the hidden illuminist tradition in Western alchemy,
revolutionary heresy & occult activism. Stirner quite
correctly despised what he knew as "mysticism," a mere
pietistic sentimentality based on self-abnegation & world
hatred. Nietzsche nailed down the lid on "God" a few years
later. Since then, who has dared to suggest that
Individualism & mysticism might be reconciled & synthesized?

The missing ingredient in Stirner (Nietzsche comes closer)
is a working concept of _nonordinary_consciousness_. The
realization of the unique self (or _ubermensch_) must
reverberate & expand like waves or spirals or music to
embrace direct experience or intuitive perception of the
uniqueness of reality itself. This realization engulfs &
erases all duality, dichotomy, & dialectic. It carries with
itself, like an electric charge, an intense & wordless sense
of _value_: it "divinizes" the self.

Being/consciousness/bliss (_satchitananda_) cannot be
dismissed as merely another Stirnerian "spook" or "wheel in
the head." It invokes no exclusively transcendent principle
for which the _Einzige_ must sacrifice his/her own-ness. It
simply states that intense awareness of existence itself
results in "bliss"--or in less loaded language, "valuative
consciousness." The goal of the Unique after all is to
_possess_everything_; the radical monist attains this by
identifying self with perception, like the Chinese inkbrush
painter who "becomes the bamboo," so that "it paints
itself."
Despite mysterious hints Stirner drops about a "union of
Unique-ones" & despite Nietzsche's eternal "Yea" &
exaltation of life, their Individualism seems somehow shaped
by a certain _coldness_toward_the_other_. In part they
cultivated a bracing, cleansing chilliness against the warm
suffocation of 19th century sentimentality & altruism; in
part they simply despised what someone (Mencken?) called
"Homo Boobensis."

And yet, reading behind & beneath the layer of ice, we
uncover traces of a fiery doctrine--what Gaston Bachelard
might have called "a Poetics of the Other." The _Einzige's_
relation with the Other cannot be defined or limited by any
institution or idea. And yet clearly, however paradoxically,
the Unique depends for completeness on the Other, & cannot &
will not be realized in any bitter isolation.

The examples of "wolf children" or _enfants_sauvages_
suggest that a human infant deprived of human company for
too long will never attain conscious humanity--will never
acquire language. The Wild Child perhaps provides a poetic
metaphor for the Unique-one--and yet simultaneously marks
the precise point where Unique & Other must meet, coalesce,
unify--or else fail to attain & possess all of which they
are capable.

The Other mirrors the Self--the Other is our _witness_. The
Other completes the Self--the Other gives us the key to the
perception of oneness-of-being. When we speak of being &
consciousness, we point to the Self; when we speak of bliss
we implicate the Other.

The acquisition of language falls under the sign of Eros--
all communication is essentially erotic, all relations are
erotic. Avicenna & Dante claimed that love moves the very
stars & planets in their courses--the _Rg_Veda_ & Hesiod's
_Theogony_ both proclaim Love the first god born after
Chaos. Affections, affinities, aesthetic perceptions,
beautiful creations, conviviality--all the most precious
possessions of the Unique-one arise from the conjunction of
Self & Other in the constellation of Desire.

Here again the project begun by Individualism can be evolved
& revivified by a graft with mysticism--specifically with
tantra. As an esoteric _technique_ divorced from orthodox
Hinduism, tantra provides a symbolic framework ("Net of
Jewels") for the identification of sexual pleasure & non-
ordinary consciousness. All antinomian sects have contained
some "tantrik" aspect, from the families of Love & Free
Brethren & Adamites of Europe to the pederast sufis of
Persia to the Taoist alchemists of China. Even classical
anarchism has enjoyed its tantrik moments: Fourier's
Phalansteries; the "Mystical Anarchism" of G. Ivanov & other
fin-de-si.cle Russian symbolists; the incestuous erotism of
Arzibashaev's _Sanine_; the weird combination of Nihilism &
Kali-worship which inspired the Bengali Terrorist Party (to
which my tantrik guru Sri Kamanaransan Biswas had the honor
of belonging)...

We, however, propose a much deeper syncretism of anarchy &
tantra than any of these. In fact, we simply suggest that
Individual Anarchism & Radical Monism are to be considered
henceforth one and the same movement.

This hybrid has been called "spiritual materialism," a term
which burns up all metaphysics in the fire of oneness of
spirit & matter. We also like "Ontological Anarchy" because
it suggests that being itself remains in a state of "divine
Chaos," of all-potentiality, of continual creation.

In this flux only the _jiva_mukti_, or "liberated
individual," is self-realized, and thus monarch or owner of
his perceptions and relations. In this ceaseless flow only
desire offers any principle of order, and thus the only
possible society (as Fourier understood) is that of lovers.

Anarchism is dead, long live anarchy! We no longer need the
baggage of revolutionary masochism or idealist self-
sacrifice--or the frigidity of Individualism with its
disdain for conviviality, of _living_together_--or the
vulgar superstitions of 19th century atheism, scientism, and
progressism. All that dead weight! Frowsy proletarian
suitcases, heavy bourgeois steamer-trunks, boring
philosophical portmanteaux--over the side with them!

We want from these systems only their vitality, their life-
forces, daring, intransigence, anger, heedlessness--their
power, their _shakti_. Before we jettison the rubbish and
the carpetbags, we'll rifle the luggage for billfolds,
revolvers, jewels, drugs and other useful items--keep what
we like and trash the rest. Why not? Are we priests of a
cult, to croon over relics and mumble our martyrologies?

Monarchism too has something we want--a grace, an ease, a
pride, a superabundance. We'll take these, and dump the woes
of authority & torture in history's garbage bin. Mysticism
has something we need--"self-overcoming," exalted awareness,
reservoirs of psychic potency. These we will expropriate in
the name of our insurrection--and leave the woes of morality
& religion to rot & decompose.

As the Ranters used to say when greeting any "fellow
creature"--from king to cut-purse--"Rejoice! All is ours!"

*  *  *  *  *

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE KALI YUGA

THE KALI YUGA STILL has 200,000 or so years to play--good
news for advocates & avatars of CHAOS, bad news for
Brahmins, Yahwists, bureaucrat-gods & their runningdogs.

I knew Darjeeling hid something for me soon as I heard the
name--_dorje_ling_--Thunderbolt City. In 1969 I arrived just
before the monsoons. Old British hill station, summer hdqrs
for Govt. of Bengal--streets in the form of winding wood
staircases, the Mall with a View of Sikkim & Mt Katchenhunga-
-Tibetan temples & refugees--beautiful yellow-porcelain
people called Lepchas (the real abo's)--Hindus, Moslems,
Nepalese & Bhutanese Buddhists, & decaying Brits who lost
their way home in '47, still running musty banks & tea-
shoppes.

Met Ganesh Baba, fat white-bearded saddhu with overly-
impeccable Oxford accent--never saw anyone smoke so much
ganja, chillam after chillam full, then we'd wander the
streets while he played ball with shrieking kids or picked
fights in the bazaar, chasing after terrified clerks with
his umbrella, then roaring with laughter.

He introduced me to Sri Kamanaransan Biswas, a tiny wispy
middleage Bengali government clerk in a shabby suit, who
offered to teach me Tantra. Mr Biswas lived in a tiny
bungalow perched on a steep pine-tree misty hillside, where
I visited him daily with pints of cheap brandy for puja &
tippling--he encouraged me to smoke while we talked, since
ganja too is sacred to Kali.
Mr Biswas in his wild youth was a member of the Bengali
Terrorist Party, which included both Kali worshippers &
heretic Moslem mystics as well as anarchists & extreme
leftists. Ganesh Baba seemed to approve of this secret past,
as if it were a sign of Mr Biswas's hidden tantrika
strength, despite his outward seedy mild appearance.

We discussed my readings in Sir John Woodruffe ("Arthur
Avalon") each afternoon, I walked there thru cold summer
fogs, Tibetan spirit-traps flapping in the soaked breeze
loomed out of the mist & cedars. We practiced the Tara-
mantra and Tara-mudra (or Yoni-mudra), and studied the Tara-
yantra diagram for magical purposes. Once we visited a
temple to the Hindu Mars (like ours, both planet & war-god)
where he bought a finger-ring made from an iron horseshoe
nail & gave it to me. More brandy & ganja.

Tara: one of the forms of Kali, very similar in attributes:
dwarfish, naked, four-armed with weapons, dancing on dead
Shiva, necklace of skulls or severed heads, tongue dripping
blood, skin a deep blue-grey the precise color of monsoon
clouds. Every day more rain--mud-slides blocking roads. My
Border Area Permit expires. Mr Biswas & I descend the slick
wet Himalayas by jeep & train down to his ancestral city,
Siliguri in the flat Bengali plains where the Ganges fingers
into a sodden viridescent delta.

We visit his wife in the hospital. Last year a flood drowned
Siliguri killing tens of thousands. Cholera broke out, the
city's a wreck, algae-stained & ruined, the hospital's halls
still caked with slime, blood, vomit, the liquids of death.
She sits silent on her bed glaring unblinking at hideous
fates. Dark side of the goddess. He gives me a colored
lithograph of Tara which miraculously floated above the
water & was saved.

That night we attend some ceremony at the local Kali-temple,
a modest half-ruined little roadside shrine--torchlight the
only illumination--chanting & drums with strange, almost
African syncopation, totally unclassical, primordial & yet
insanely complex. We drink, we smoke.
Alone in the cemetery, next to a half-burnt corpse, I'm
initiated into Tara Tantra. Next day, feverish & spaced-out,
I say farewell & set out for Assam, to the great temple of
Shakti's _yoni_ in Gauhati, just in time for the annual
festival. Assam is forbidden territory & I have no permit.
Midnight in Gauhati I sneak off the train, back down the
tracks thru rain & mud up to my knees & total darkness,
blunder at last into the city & find a bug-ridden hotel.
Sick as a dog by this time. No sleep.

In the morning, bus up to the temple on a nearby mountain.
Huge towers, pullulating deities, courtyards, outbuildings--
hundreds of thousands of pilgrims--weird saddhus down from
their ice-caves squatting on tiger skins & chanting. Sheep &
doves are being slaughtered by the thousands, a real
hecatomb--(not another white sahib in sight)--gutters
running inch-deep in blood--curve-bladed Kali-swords chop
chop chop, dead heads plocking onto the slippery
cobblestones.

When Shiva chopped Shakti into 53 pieces & scattered them
over the whole Ganges basin, her cunt fell here. Some
friendly priests speak English & help me find the cave where
Yoni's on display. By this time I know I'm seriously sick,
but determined to finish the ritual. A herd of pilgrims (all
at least one head shorter than me) literally engulfs me like
an undertow-wave at the beach, & hurls me suspended down
suffocating winding troglodyte stairs into claustrophobic
womb-cave where I swirl nauseated & hallucinating toward a
shapeless cone meteorite smeared in centuries of ghee &
ochre. The herd parts for me, allows me to throw a garland
of jasmine over the yoni.

A week later in Kathmandu I enter the German Missionary
Hospital (for a month) with hepatitis. A small price to pay
for all that knowledge--the liver of some retired colonel
from a Kipling story!--but I know _her_, I know Kali. Yes
absolutely the archetype of all that horror, yet for those
who know, she becomes the generous mother. Later in a cave
in the jungle above Rishikish I meditated on Tara for
several days (with mantra, yantra, mudra, incense, &
flowers) & returned to the serenity of Darjeeling, its
beneficent visions.

Her age must contain horrors, for most of us cannot
understand her or reach beyond the necklace of skulls to the
garland of jasmine, knowing in what sense they are
_the_same_. To go thru CHAOS, to ride it like a tiger, to
embrace it (even sexually) & absorb some of its shakti, its
life-juice--this is the Path of Kali Yuga. Creative
nihilism. For those who follow it she promises enlightenment
& even wealth, a share of her temporal _power_.

The sexuality & violence serve as metaphors in a poem which
acts directly on consciousness through the Image-ination--or
else in the correct circumstances they can be openly
deployed & enjoyed, embued with a sense of the holiness of
_every_thing_ from ecstasy & wine to garbage & corpses.

Those who ignore her or see her outside themselves risk
destruction. Those who worship her as _ishta-devata_, or
divine self, taste her Age of Iron as if it were gold,
knowing the alchemy of her presence.

*  *  *  *  *

AGAINST THE REPRODUCTION OF DEATH

ONE OF THE SIGNS of that End Time so many seem to anticipate
would consist of a fascination with all the most negative &
hateful detritus of that Time, a fascination felt by the
very class of thinkers who consider themselves most
perspicacious about the so-called apocalypse they warn us to
beware. I'm speaking of people I know very well--those of
the "spiritual right" (such as the neo-Guenonians with their
obsession for signs of decadence)--& those of the post-
philosophical left, the detached essayists of death,
connoisseurs of the arts of mutilation.

For both these sets, all possible action in the world is
smeared out onto one level plain--all become equally
meaningless. For the Traditionalist, nothing matters but to
prepare the soul for death (not only its own but the whole
world's as well). For the "cultural critic" nothing matters
but the game of identifying yet one more reason for despair,
analyzing it, adding it to the catalogue.
Now the End of the World is an abstraction because it has
never happened. It has no existence in the real world. It
will cease to be an abstraction only when it happens--if it
happens. (I do not claim to know "God's mind" on the subject-
-nor to possess any scientific knowledge about a still non-
existent future). I see only a mental image & its emotional
ramifications; as such I identify it as a kind of ghostly
virus, a spook-sickness in myself which ought to be expunged
rather than hypochondriacally coddled & indulged. I have
come to despise the "End of the World" as an ideological
icon held over my head by religion, state, & cultural milieu
alike, as a reason for _doing_nothing_.

I understand why the religious & political "powers" would
want to keep me quaking in my shoes. Since only _they_ offer
even a _chance_ of evading ragnarok (thru prayer, thru
democracy, thru communism, etc.), I will sheepishly follow
their dictates & dare nothing on my own. The case of the
enlightened intellectuals, however, seems more puzzling at
first. What power do _they_ derive from this telling-the-
beads of fear & gloom, sadism & hatred?

Essentially they gain _smartness_. Any attack on them must
appear stupid, since they alone are clear-eyed enough to
recognize the truth, they alone daring enough to
_show_it_forth_ in defiance of rude shit-kicking censors &
liberal wimps. If I attack them as part of the very problem
they claim to be discussing objectively, I will be seen as a
bumpkin, a prude, a pollyanna. If I admit my hatred for the
_artifacts_ of their perception (books, artworks,
performances) then I may be dismissed as merely squeamish (&
so of course psychologically repressed), or else at the very
least lacking in seriousness.

Many people assume that because I sometimes express myself
as an anarchist boy-lover, I must also be "interested" in
other ultra-postmodern ideas like serial child-murder,
fascist ideology, or the photographs of Joel P. Witkin. They
assume only two sides to any issue--the hip side & the unhip
side. A marxist who objected to all this death-cultishness
as anti-progressive would be thought as foolish as a Xtian
fundamentalist who believed it immoral.

I maintain that (as usual) many sides exist to this issue
rather than only two. Two-sided issues (creationism vs
darwinism, "choice" vs "pro-life," etc.) are all without
exception _delusions_, spectacular lies.

My position is this: I am all too well aware of the
"intelligence" which prevents action. I myself possess it in
abundance. Every once in a while however I have managed to
behave as if I were stupid enough to try to change my life.
Sometimes I've used dangerous stupifiants like religion,
marijuana, chaos, the love of boys. On a few occasions I
have attained some degree of success--& I say this not to
boast but rather to bear witness. By overthrowing the inner
icons of the End of the World & the Futility of all mundane
endeavor, I have (rarely) broken through into a state which
(by comparison with all I'd known) appeared to be one of
_health_. The images of death & mutilation which fascinate
our artists & intellectuals appear to me--in the remembered
light of these experiences--tragically inappropriate to the
real potential of existence & of _discourse_ about
existence.

Existence itself may be considered an abyss possessed of no
meaning. I do not read this as a _pessimistic_ statement. If
it be true, then I can see in it nothing else but a
declaration of autonomy for my imagination & will--& for the
most beautiful act they can conceive with which to _bestow_
meaning upon existence.

Why should I emblemize this freedom with an act such as
murder (as did the existentialists) or with any of the
ghoulish tastes of the eighties? Death can only kill me once-
-till then I am free to express & experience (as much as I
_can_) a life & an art of life based on self-valuating "peak
experiences," as well as "conviviality" (which also
possesses its own reward).

The obsessive replication of Death-imagery (& its
reproduction or even commodification) _gets_in_the_way_ of
this project just as obstructively as censorship or media-
brainwashing. It sets up negative feedback loops--it is bad
juju. It helps no one conquer fear of death, but merely
inculcates a _morbid_ fear in place of the healthy fear all
sentient creatures feel at the smell of their own mortality.

This is not to absolve the world of its ugliness, or to deny
that truly fearful things exist in it. But some of these
things can be overcome--on the condition that we build an
_aesthetic_ on the overcoming rather than the fear.

I recently attended a gay dance/poetry performance of
uncompromising hipness: the one black dancer in the troupe
had to pretend to fuck a dead sheep.

Part of my self-induced stupidity, I confess, is to believe
(& even feel) that art can change me, & change others.
That's why I write pornography & propaganda--to cause
_change_. Art can never mean as much as a love affair,
perhaps, or an insurrection. But...to a certain extent...it
works.
Even if I'd given up all hope in art, however, all
expectation of exaltation, I would still refuse to put up
with art that merely exacerbates my misery, or indulges in
_schadenfreude_, "delight in the misery of others." I turn
away from certain art as a dog would turn away howling from
the corpse of its companion. I'd like to renounce the
sophistication which would permit me to sniff it with
detached curiosity as yet another example of post-industrial
decomposition.

Only the dead are truly smart, truly cool. Nothing touches
them. While I live, however, I side with bumbling suffering
crooked life, with anger rather than boredom, with sweet
lust, hunger & carelessness...against the icy avant-guard &
its fashionable premonitions of the sepulcher.

*  *  *  *  *

RINGING DENUNCIATION OF SURREALISM

(For Harry Smith)

AT THE SURREALIST FILM show, someone asked Stan Brakhage
about the media's use of surrealism (MTV, etc.); he answered
that it was a "damn shame." Well, maybe it is & maybe it
isn't (does popular kultur _ipso_facto_ lack all
inspiration?)--but granting that on some level the media's
appropriation of surrealism is a damn shame, are we to
believe that there was nothing in surrealism that allowed
this theft to occur?

The return of the repressed means the return of the
paleolithic--not a return _to_ the Old Stone Age, but a
spiralling around on a new level of the gyre. (After all,
99.9999% of human experience is of hunting/gathering, with
agriculture & industry a mere oil slick on the deep well of
non-history.) Paleolithic equals pre-Work ("original leisure
society"). Post-Work (Zerowork) equals "Psychic
Paleolithism."

All projects for the "liberation of desire" (Surrealism)
which remain enmeshed in the matrix of Work can only lead to
the commodification of desire. The Neolithic begins with
desire for commodities (agricultural surplus), moves on to
the production of desire (industry), & ends with the
implosion of desire (advertising). The Surrealist liberation
of desire, for all its aesthetic accomplishments, remains no
more than a subset of production--hence the wholesaling of
Surrealism to the Communist Party & its Work-ist ideology
(not to mention attendant misogyny & homophobia). Modern
leisure, in turn, is simply a subset of Work (hence its
commodification)--so it is no accident that when Surrealism
closed up shop, the only customers at the garage sale were
ad execs.

Advertising, using Surrealism's colonization of the
unconscious to _create_ desire, leads to the final implosion
of Surrealism. It's not just a "damn shame & a disgrace,"
not a simple appropriation. Surrealism was _made_ for
advertising, for commodification. Surrealism is in fact a
betrayal of desire.

And yet, out of this abyss of meaning, desire still rises,
innocent as a new-hatched phoenix. Early Berlin dada (which
rejected the return of the art-object) for all its faults
provides a better model for dealing with the implosion of
the social than Surrealism could ever do--an anarchist
model, or perhaps (in anthro-jargon) a non-authoritarian
model, a destruction of all ideology, of all chains of law.
As the structure of Work/Leisure crumbles into emptiness, as
all forms of control vanish in the dissolution of meaning,
the Neolithic seems bound to vanish as well, with all its
temples & granaries & police, to be replaced by some return
of hunting/gathering on the psychic level--a re-
nomadization. Everything's imploding & disappearing--the
oedipal family, education, even the unconscious itself (as
Andr. Codrescu says). Let's not mistake this for Armageddon
(let's resist the seduction of apocalypse, the
eschatological con)--it's not _the_world_ coming to an end--
only the empty husks of the social, catching fire &
disappearing.

Surrealism must be junked along with all the other beautiful
bric-a-brac of agricultural priestcraft & vapid control-
systems. No one knows what's coming, what misery, what
spirit of wildness, what joy--but the last thing we need on
our voyage is another set of commissars--popes of our dreams-
-daddies. Down with Surrealism...

--Naropa, July 9, 1988

*  *  *  *  *

FOR A CONGRESS OF WEIRD RELIGIONS

WE'VE LEARNED TO DISTRUST the verb _to_be_, the word _is_--
let's say rather: note the striking resemblance between the
concept SATORI & the concept REVOLUTION OF EVERYDAY LIFE--in
both cases: a perception of the "ordinary" with
extraordinary consequences for consciousness & action. We
can't use the phrase "is like" because both concepts (like
all concepts, all words for that matter) come crusted with
accretions--each burdened with all its psycho-cultural
baggage, like guests who arrive suspiciously overly well-
supplied for the weekend.

So allow me the old-fashioned Beat-Zennish use of _satori_,
while simultaneously emphasizing--in the case of the
Situationist slogan--that one of the roots of its dialectic
can be traced to dada & Surrealism's notion of the
"marvelous" erupting from (or into) a life which only
_seems_ suffocated by the banal, by the miseries of
abstraction & alienation. I define my terms by making them
more vague, precisely in order to avoid the orthodoxies of
both Buddhism & Situationism, to evade their ideologico-
semantic traps--those broken-down language machines! Rather,
I propose we ravage them for parts, an act of cultural
bricolage. "Revolution" means just another turn of the crank-
-while religious orthodoxy of any sort leads logically to a
veritable government of cranks. Let's not idolize satori by
imagining it the monopoly of mystic monks, or as contingent
on any moral code; & rather than fetishize the Leftism of
'68 we prefer Stirner's term "insurrection" or "uprising,"
which escapes the built-in implications of a mere change of
authority.

This constellation of concepts involves "breaking rules" of
ordered perception to arrive at direct experiencing,
somewhat analogous to the process whereby chaos
spontaneously resolves into fractal nonlinear orders, or the
way in which "wild" creative energy resolves as play &
_poesis_. "Spontaneous order" out of "chaos" in turn evokes
the anarchist Taoism of the _Chuang_Tzu_. Zen may be accused
of lacking awareness of the "revolutionary" implications of
satori, while the Situationists can be criticized for
ignoring a certain "spirituality" inherent in the self-
realization & conviviality their cause demands. By
identifying satori with the r. of e.d.l. we're performing a
bit of a shotgun marriage fully as remarkable as the
Surrealists' famous mating of an umbrella & sewing machine
or whatever it was. Miscegenation. The race-mixing advocated
by Nietzsche, who was attracted, no doubt, by the sexiness
of the half-caste.

I'm tempted to try to describe the way satori "is" like the
r. of e.d.l.--but I can't. Or to put it another way: nearly
all I write revolves around this theme; I would have to
repeat nearly everything in order to elucidate this single
point. Instead, as an appendix, I offer one more curious
coincidence or interpenetration of 2 terms, one from
Situationism again & the other this time from sufism.
The _d.rive_ or "drift" was conceived as an exercise in
deliberate revolutionizing of everyday life--a sort of
aimless wandering thru city streets, a visionary urban
nomadism involving an openness to "culture as nature" (if I
grasp the idea correctly)--which by its sheer duration would
inculcate in the drifters a propensity to experience the
marvelous; not always in its beneficent form perhaps, but
hopefully always productive of insight--whether thru
architecture, the erotic, adventure, drink & drugs, danger,
inspiration, whatever--into the intensity of unmediated
perception & experience.
The parallel term in sufism would be "journeying to the far
horizons" or simply "journeying," a spiritual exercise which
combines the urban & nomadic energies of Islam into a single
trajectory, sometimes called "the Caravan of Summer." The
dervish vows to travel at a certain velocity, perhaps
spending no more than 7 nights or 40 nights in one city,
accepting whatever comes, moving wherever signs &
coincidences or simply whims may lead, heading from power-
spot to power-spot, conscious of "sacred geography," of
itinerary as meaning, of topology as symbology.
Here's another constellation: Ibn Khaldun, _On_the_Road_
(both Jack Kerouac's & Jack London's), the form of the
picaresque novel in general, Baron Munchausen, _wanderjahr_,
Marco Polo, boys in a suburban summer forest, Arthurian
knights out questing for trouble, queers out cruising for
boys, pub-crawling with Melville, Poe, Baudelaire--or
canoeing with Thoreau in Maine...travel as the antithesis of
tourism, space _rather_than_ time. Art project: the
construction of a "map" bearing a 1:1 ratio to the
"territory" explored. Political project: the construction of
shifting "autonomous zones" within an invisible nomadic
network (like the Rainbow Gatherings). Spiritual project:
the creation or discovery of pilgrimages in which the
concept "shrine" has been replaced (or esotericized) by the
concept "peak experience."

What I'm trying to do here (as usual) is to provide a sound
irrational basis, a strange philosophy if you like, for what
I call the Free Religions, including the Psychedelic &
Discordian currents, non-hierarchical neo-paganism,
antinomian heresies, chaos & Kaos Magik, revolutionary
HooDoo, "unchurched" & anarchist Christians, Magical
Judaism, the Moorish Orthodox Church, Church of the
SubGenius, the Faeries, radical Taoists, beer mystics,
people of the Herb, etc., etc.

Contrary to the expectations of 19th century radicals,
religion has not gone away--perhaps we'd be better off if it
had--but has instead increased in power, seemingly in
proportion to the global increase in the realm of technology
& rational control. Both fundamentalism & the New Age derive
some force from deep & widespread dissatisfaction with the
System that works against all perception of the
marvelousness of everyday life--call it Babylon or the
Spectacle, Capital or Empire, Society of Simulation or of
soulless mechanism--what you wish. But these two religious
forces divert the very desire for the authentic toward
overpowering & oppressive new abstractions (morality in the
case of fundamentalism, commodification in the case of the
New Age), & for this reason can quite properly be called
"reactionary."

Just as cultural radicals will seek to infiltrate & subvert
the popular media, & just as political radicals will perform
similar functions in the spheres of Work, Family, & other
social organizations, so there exists a need for radicals to
penetrate the institution of religion itself rather than
merely continue to mouth 19th century platitudes about
atheistic materialism. It's going to happen anyway--better
to approach it with consciousness, with grace & style.

Having once lived near the Hdqrs of the World Council of
Churches, I like the possibility of a Free Churches parody
version--parody being one of our chief strategies (or call
it _d.tournement_ or deconstruction or creative destruction)-
-a sort of loose network (I dislike that word; let's call it
a "webwork" instead) of weird cults & individuals providing
conversation & services for each other, out of which might
begin to emerge a trend or tendency or "current" (in magical
terms) strong enough to wreak some psychic havoc on the
Fundies & New Agers, even the ayatollahs & the Papacy,
convivial enough for us to disagree with each other & yet
still give great parties--or conclaves, or ecumenical
councils, or World Congresses--which we anticipate with
glee.
The Free Religions may offer some of the only possible
spiritual alternatives to televangelist stormtroopers &
pinhead crystal-channelers (not to mention the established
religions), & will thus become more & more important, more &
more vital in a future where the demand for the eruption of
the marvelous into the ordinary will become the most
ringing, poignant & tumultuous of all political demands--a
future which will begin (wait a minute, lemme check my
clock)...7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...NOW.

*  *  *  *  *

HOLLOW EARTH

SUBTERRANEAN REGIONS OF THE continent excavated in
cyclopaean caverns, cathedralspace fractal networks,
labyrinthine gargantuan tunnels, slow black underground
rivers, unmoving stygian lakes, pure & slightly
luminiferous, slim waterfalls plunging down watersmooth
rock, cataracting round petrified forests of stalactites &
stalagmites in spelunker-bewildering blind-fish complexity &
unfathomable vastness...Who dug this hollow earth beneath
the ice foreseen by Poe, by certain paranoid German
occultists, Shaverian UFO freaks? Was Earth once colonized
in the time of Gondwana or MU by some Elder Race? their
reptilian skeletons still mouldering in the farthest secret
mazes of the cavern system? Sluggish backwaters, dead-end
canals, stagnant pools far from the centers of civilization
like Little America, Transport City, or Nan Chi Han, down in
the dark recesses and boondocks of the Antarctic caves,
fungus & albino fern. We suspect them of mutations,
amphibian webbed fingers and toes, degenerate habits--
Kallikaks of the Hollow Earth, Lovecraftian renegades,
hermits, skulking incestuous smugglers, runaway criminals,
anarchists forced into hiding after the Entropy Wars,
fugitives from Genetic Puritanism, dissident Chinese Tongs &
Yellow Turban fanatics, lascar cave-pirates, pale shiftless
whitetrash from the prolewarrens of the industrial domes
along Thwait's Tongue & the Walgreen Coast & Edsel-Ford-Land-
-the Trogs have kept alive for over 200 years the folk-
memory of the Autonomous Zone, the myth that someday it will
appear again...Taoism, libertine philosophy, Indonesian
sorcery, cult of the Cave Mother (or Mothers), identified by
some scholars with the Javanese sea/moon goddess Loro Kidul,
by others with a minor deity of the South Pole Star Sect,
the "Jade Goddess"...manuscripts (written in Bahasa Ingliss
the pidgin dialect of the deep caves) contain mangled
quotations from Nietzsche & Chuang Tzu...Trade consists of
occasional precious gems and cultivation of white poppy,
fungus, over a dozen different species of "magic"
mushrooms...Shallow Lake Erebus, 5 miles across, dotted with
stalagmitic islets choked with fern & kudzu & black dwarf
pine, held in a cave so vast it sometimes creates its own
weather...The town belongs officially to Little America but
most of the inhabitants are Trogs living off the Shiftless
Dole--& the deep-cave tribal country lies just across the
Lake. Riffraff, artists, drug addicts, sorcerers, smugglers,
remittance-men & perverts live in crumbling basalt-&-
synthplast hotels half-encrusted with pale green vines,
along the lakefront, an avenue of squalid cafes, gem emporia
guarded by armed ninjas, chinese krill-noodle shops, the
crystal-tinselled hall for slow fusion-gamelan dancers, boys
practicing their mudras on sleepy electronic dark blue
afternoons to the rippling of synthgongs and
metallophones...& below the pier perhaps a few desultory
bathers along the black beach, genuine low-budget tourists
gawking at the shrine behind the bazaar where pallid old
Trog pamongs tranced out on fungus drool & roll up their
eyes, breathe in the fumes of heavy incense, everything
seems suddenly menacingly bright, flickering with
significance...a few cases of webbed fingers but the rumors
of ritual promiscuity are true enough. I was living in a
Trog fishing village across the lake from Erebus in a rented
room above the baitshop...rural sloth & degenerate
superstitious rites of sensual abandon, the larval &
unhealthy mysteries of the chthonic mutant downtrodden
Trogs, lazy shiftless no-count hicks...Little America, so
christian & free of mutation, eugenic & orderly, where ev-
eryone lives jacked into the fleshless realm of ancient
software & holography, so euclidean, newtonian, clean &
patriotic--L.A. will never understand this innocent filth-
sorcery, this "spiritual materialism," this slavery to the
volcanic desires of secret cave-boy gangs like laughing
flowers jetting with dynamo erections pulsing up pure life
curved taut as bows, & the smell of water, pond-scum,
nightblooming white flowers, jasmine & datura, urine,
children's wet hair, sperm & mud...possessed by cave-
spirits, perhaps ghosts of ancient aliens now wandering as
demons seeking to renew long-lost pleasures of flesh &
substance. Or else the Zone has already been reborn, already
a nexus of autonomy, a spreading virus of chaos in its most
exuberant clandestine form, white toadstools springing up on
the spots where Trog boys have masturbated alone in the
dark...

*  *  *  *  *

NIETZSCHE & THE DERVISHES

_RENDAN_, "THE CLEVER ONES." The sufis use a technical term
_rend_ (adj. _rendi_, pl. _rendan_) to designate one "clever
enough to drink wine in secret without getting caught": the
dervish version of "Permissible Dissimulation" (_taqiyya_,
whereby Shiites are permitted to lie about their true
affiliation to avoid persecution as well as advance the
purpose of their propaganda).

On the plane of the "Path," the _rend_ conceals his
spiritual state (_hal_) in order to contain it, work on it
alchemically, enhance it. This "cleverness" explains much of
the secrecy of the Orders, altho it remains true that many
dervishes do literally break the rules of Islam (_shariah_),
offend tradition (_sunnah_), and flout the customs of their
society--all of which gives them reason for _real_ secrecy.

Ignoring the case of the "criminal" who uses sufism as a
mask--or rather not sufism per se but _dervish_-ism, almost
a synonym in Persia for laid-back manners & by extension a
social laxness, a style of genial and poor but elegant
amorality--the above definition can still be considered in a
literal as well as metaphorical sense. That is: some sufis
do break the Law while still allowing that the Law exists &
will continue to exist; & they do so from spiritual motives,
as an exercise of will (_himmah_).

Nietzsche says somewhere that the free spirit will not
agitate for the rules to be dropped or even reformed, since
it is only by breaking the rules that he realizes his will
to power. One must prove (to oneself if no one else) an
ability to overcome the rules of the herd, to make one's own
law & yet not fall prey to the rancor & resentment of
inferior souls which define law & custom in ANY society. One
needs, in effect, an individual equivalent of war in order
to achieve the becoming of the free spirit--one needs an
inert stupidity against which to measure one's own movement
& intelligence.

Anarchists sometimes posit an ideal society without law. The
few anarchist experiments which succeeded briefly (the
Makhnovists, Catalan) failed to survive the conditions of
war which permitted their existence in the first place--so
we have no way of knowing empirically if such an experiment
could outlive the onset of peace.

Some anarchists, however, like our late friend the Italian
Stirnerite "Brand," took part in all sorts of uprisings and
revolutions, even communist and socialist ones, because they
found in the moment of insurrection itself the kind of
freedom they sought. Thus while utopianism has so far always
failed, the individualist or existentialist anarchists have
succeeded inasmuch as they have attained (however briefly)
the realization of their will to power in war.

Nietzsche's animadversions against "anarchists" are always
aimed at the egalitarian-communist narodnik martyr types,
whose idealism he saw as yet one more survival of post-Xtian
moralism--altho he sometimes praises them for at least
having the courage to revolt against majoritarian authority.
He never mentions Stirner, but I believe he would have
classified the Individualist rebel with the higher types of
"criminals," who represented for him (as for Dostoyevsky)
humans far superior to the herd, even if tragically flawed
by their obsessiveness and perhaps hidden motivations of
revenge.

The Nietzschean overman, if he existed, would have to share
to some degree in this "criminality" even if he had overcome
all obsessions and compulsions, if only because his law
could never agree with the law of the masses, of state &
society. His need for "war" (whether literal or
metaphorical) might even persuade him to take part in
revolt, whether it assumed the form of insurrection or only
of a proud bohemianism.

For him a "society without law" might have value only so
long as it could measure its own freedom against the
subjection of others, against their jealousy & hatred. The
lawless & short-lived "pirate utopias" of Madagascar & the
Caribbean, D'Annunzio's Republic of Fiume, the Ukraine or
Barcelona--these would attract him because they promised the
turmoil of becoming & even "failure" rather than the bucolic
somnolence of a "perfected" (& hence dead) anarchist
society.

In the absence of such opportunities, this free spirit would
disdain wasting time on agitation for reform, on protest, on
visionary dreaming, on all kinds of "revolutionary
martyrdom"--in short, on most contemporary anarchist
activity. To be _rendi_, to drink wine in secret & not get
caught, to accept the rules in order to break them & thus
attain the spiritual lift or energy-rush of danger &
adventure, the private epiphany of overcoming all interior
police while tricking all outward authority--this might be a
goal worthy of such a spirit, & this might be his definition
of crime.
(Incidentally, I think this reading helps explain N's
insistence on the MASK, on the secretive nature of the proto-
overman, which disturbs even intelligent but somewhat
liberal commentators like Kaufman. Artists, for all that N
loves them, are criticized for _telling_secrets_. Perhaps he
failed to consider that--paraphrasing A. Ginsberg--this is
_our_ way of becoming "great"; and also that--paraphrasing
Yeats--even the truest secret becomes yet another mask.)

As for the anarchist movement today: would we like just once
to stand on ground where laws are abolished & the last
priest is strung up with the guts of the last bureaucrat?
Yeah sure. But we're not holding our breath. There are
certain causes (to quote the Neech again) that one fails to
quite abandon, if only because of the sheer insipidity of
all their enemies. Oscar Wilde might have said that one
cannot be a gentleman without being something of an
anarchist--a necessary paradox, like N's "radical
aristocratism."

This is not just a matter of spiritual dandyism, but also of
existential commitment to an underlying spontaneity, to a
philosophical "tao." For all its waste of energy, in its
very formlessness, anarchism alone of all the ISMs
approaches that one _type_ of form which alone can interest
us today, that strange attractor, the shape of _chaos_--
which (one last quote) one must have within oneself, if one
is to give birth to a dancing star.

--Spring Equinox, 1989

*  *  *  *  *

RESOLUTION FOR THE 1990's: BOYCOTT COP CULTURE!!!

IF ONE FICTIONAL FIGURE can be said to have dominated the
popcult of the eighties, it was the Cop. Fuckin' police ev-
erywhere you turned, worse than real life. What an
incredible bore.
Powerful Cops--protecting the meek and humble--at the
expense of a half-dozen or so articles of the Bill of Rights-
-"Dirty Harry." Nice human cops, coping with human
perversity, coming out sweet 'n' sour, you know, gruff &
knowing but still soft inside--_Hill_Street_Blues_--most
evil TV show ever. Wiseass black cops scoring witty racist
remarks against hick white cops, who nevertheless come to
love each other--Eddie Murphy, Class Traitor. For that
masochist thrill we got wicked bent cops who threaten to
topple our Kozy Konsensus Reality from within like Giger-
designed tapeworms, but naturally get blown away just in the
nick of time by the Last Honest Cop, Robocop, ideal amalgam
of prosthesis and sentimentality.

We've been obsessed with cops since the beginning--but the
rozzers of yore played bumbling fools, Keystone Kops,
_Car_54_Where_Are_You_, booby-bobbies set up for Fatty
Arbuckle or Buster Keaton to squash & deflate. But in the
ideal drama of the eighties, the "little man" who once
scattered bluebottles by the hundred with that anarchist's
bomb, innocently used to light a cigarette--the Tramp, the
victim with the sudden power of the pure heart--no longer
has a place at the center of narrative. Once "we" were that
hobo, that quasi-surrealist chaote hero who wins thru _wu-
wei_ over the ludicrous minions of a despised & irrelevant
Order. But now "we" are reduced to the status of victims
_without_ power, or else criminals. "We" no longer occupy
that central role; no longer the heros of our own stories,
we've been marginalized & replaced by the Other, the Cop.

Thus the Cop Show has only three characters--victim,
criminal, and policeperson--but the first two fail to be
fully human--only the pig is _real_. Oddly enough, human
society in the eighties (as seen in the other media)
sometimes appeared to consist of the same three
cliche/archetypes. First the victims, the whining minorities
bitching about "rights"--and who pray tell did _not_ belong
to a "minority" in the eighties? Shit, even cops complained
about their "rights" being abused. Then the criminals:
largely non-white (despite the obligatory & hallucinatory
"integration" of the media), largely poor (or else obscenely
rich, hence even more alien), largely perverse (i.e. the
forbidden mirrors of "our" desires). I've heard that one out
of four households in America is robbed every year, & that
every year nearly half a million of us are arrested just for
smoking pot. In the face of such statistics (even assuming
they're "damned lies") one wonders who is NOT either victim
or criminal in our police-state-of-consciousness. The fuzz
must mediate for _all_of_us_, however fuzzy the interface--
they're only warrior-priests, however profane.
_America's_Most_Wanted_--the most successful TV game show of
the eighties--opened up for all of us the role of Amateur
Cop, hitherto merely a media fantasy of middleclass
resentment & revenge. Naturally the truelife Cop hates no
one so much as the vigilante--look what happens to poor &/or
non-white neighborhood self-protection groups like the
Muslims who tried to eliminate crack dealing in Brooklyn:
the cops busted the Muslims, the pushers went free. Real
vigilantes threaten the monopoly of enforcement,
_l.se_majest._, more abominable than incest or murder. But
media(ted) vigilantes function perfectly within the
CopState; in fact, it would be more accurate to think of
them as _unpaid_ (not even a set of matched luggage!)
_informers_: telemetric snitches, electro-stoolies, ratfinks-
for-a-day.

What is it that "America most wants"? Does this phrase refer
to criminals--or to crimes, to objects of desire in their
real presence, unrepresented, unmediated, literally stolen &
appropriated? America most wants...to fuck off work, ditch
the spouse, do drugs (because only drugs make you feel as
good as the people in TV ads appear to be), have sex with
nubile jailbait, sodomy, burglary, hell yes. What unmediated
pleasures are NOT illegal? Even outdoor barbecues violate
smoke ordinances nowadays. The simplest enjoyments turn us
against some law; finally pleasure becomes too stress-
inducing, and only TV remains--and the pleasure of revenge,
vicarious betrayal, the sick thrill of the tattletale.
America can't have what it most wants, so it has
_America's_Most_Wanted_ instead. A nation of schoolyard
toadies sucking up to an elite of schoolyard bullies.

Of course the program still suffers from a few strange
reality-glitches: for example, the dramatized segments are
enacted cinema verit. style by _actors_; some viewers are so
stupid they believe they're seeing actual footage of real
crimes. Hence the actors are being continually harassed &
even arrested, along with (or instead of) the real criminals
whose mugshots are flashed after each little documentoid.
How quaint, eh? No one really experiences anything--everyone
reduced to the status of ghosts--media-images break off &
float away from any contact with actual everyday life--
PhoneSex--CyberSex. Final transcendence of the body:
cybergnosis.
The media cops, like televangelical forerunners, prepare us
for the advent, final coming or Rapture of the police state:
the "Wars" on sex and drugs: total control totally leached
of all content; a map with no coordinates in any known
space; far beyond mere Spectacle; sheer ecstasy ("standing-
outside-the-body"); obscene simulacrum; meaningless violent
spasms elevated to the last principle of governance. Image
of a country consumed by images of self-hatred, war between
the schizoid halves of a split personality, Super-Ego vs the
Id Kid, for the heavyweight championship of an abandoned
landscape, burnt, polluted, empty, desolate, unreal.
Just as the murder-mystery is always an exercise in sadism,
so the cop-fiction always involves the contemplation of
_control_. The image of the inspector or detective measures
the image of "our" lack of autonomous substance, our
transparency before the gaze of authority. Our perversity,
our helplessness. Whether we imagine them as "good" or
"evil," our obsessive invocation of the eidolons of the Cops
reveals the extent to which we have accepted the manichaean
worldview they symbolize. Millions of tiny cops swarm
everywhere, like the qlippoth, larval hungry ghosts--they
fill the screen, as in Keaton's famous two-reeler,
overwhelming the foreground, an Antarctic where nothing
moves but hordes of sinister blue penguins.

We propose an esoteric hermeneutical exegesis of the
Surrealist slogan "_Mort_aux_vaches_!" We take it to refer
not to the deaths of individual cops ("cows" in the argot of
the period)--mere leftist revenge fantasy--petty reverse
sadism--but rather to the death of the _image_ of the
_flic_, the inner Control & its myriad reflections in the
NoPlace Place of the media--the "gray room" as Burroughs
calls it. Self-censorship, fear of one's own desires,
"conscience" as the interiorized voice of consensus-
authority. To assassinate these "security forces" would
indeed release floods of libidinal energy, but not the
violent running-amok predicted by the theory of Law 'n'
Order.

Nietzschean "self-overcoming" provides the principle of
organization for the free spirit (as also for anarchist
society, at least in theory). In the police-state
personality, libidinal energy is dammed & diverted toward
self-repression; any threat to Control results in spasms of
violence. In the free-spirit personality, energy flows
unimpeded & therefore turbulently but gently--its chaos
finds its strange attractor, allowing new spontaneous orders
to emerge.

In this sense, then, we call for a boycott of the image of
the Cop, & a moratorium on its production in art. In this
sense...

MORT AUX VACHES!

THE TEMPORARY AUTONOMOUS ZONE

"...this time however I come as the victorious Dionysus, who
will turn the world into a holiday...Not that I have much
time..."

--Nietzsche (from his last "insane" letter to Cosima Wagner)

Pirate Utopias

THE SEA-ROVERS AND CORSAIRS of the 18th century created an
"information network" that spanned the globe: primitive and
devoted primarily to grim business, the net nevertheless
functioned admirably. Scattered throughout the net were
islands, remote hideouts where ships could be watered and
provisioned, booty traded for luxuries and necessities. Some
of these islands supported "intentional communities," whole
mini-societies living consciously outside the law and
determined to keep it up, even if only for a short but merry
life.

Some years ago I looked through a lot of secondary material
on piracy hoping to find a study of these enclaves--but it
appeared as if no historian has yet found them worthy of
analysis. (William Burroughs has mentioned the subject, as
did the late British anarchist Larry Law--but no systematic
research has been carried out.) I retreated to primary
sources and constructed my own theory, some aspects of which
will be discussed in this essay. I called the settlements
"Pirate Utopias."

Recently Bruce Sterling, one of the leading exponents of
Cyberpunk science fiction, published a near-future romance
based on the assumption that the decay of political systems
will lead to a decentralized proliferation of experiments in
living: giant worker-owned corporations, independent
enclaves devoted to "data piracy," Green-Social-Democrat
enclaves, Zerowork enclaves, anarchist liberated zones, etc.
The information economy which supports this diversity is
called the Net; the enclaves (and the book's title) are
_Islands in the Net_.

The medieval Assassins founded a "State" which consisted of
a network of remote mountain valleys and castles, separated
by thousands of miles, strategically invulnerable to
invasion, connected by the information flow of secret
agents, at war with all governments, and devoted only to
knowledge. Modern technology, culminating in the spy
satellite, makes this kind of _autonomy_ a romantic dream.
No more pirate islands! In the future the same technology--
freed from all political control--could make possible an
entire world of _autonomous zones_. But for now the concept
remains precisely science fiction--pure speculation.

Are we who live in the present doomed never to experience
autonomy, never to stand for one moment on a bit of land
ruled only by freedom? Are we reduced either to nostalgia
for the past or nostalgia for the future? Must we wait until
the entire world is freed of political control before even
one of us can claim to know freedom? Logic and emotion unite
to condemn such a supposition. Reason demands that one
cannot struggle for what one does not know; and the heart
revolts at a universe so cruel as to visit such injustices
on _our_ generation alone of humankind.

To say that "I will not be free till all humans (or all
sentient creatures) are free" is simply to cave in to a kind
of nirvana-stupor, to abdicate our humanity, to define
ourselves as losers.

I believe that by extrapolating from past and future stories
about "islands in the net" we may collect evidence to
suggest that a certain kind of "free enclave" is not only
possible in our time but also existent. All my research and
speculation has crystallized around the concept of the
TEMPORARY AUTONOMOUS ZONE (hereafter abbreviated TAZ).
Despite its synthesizing force for my own thinking, however,
I don't intend the TAZ to be taken as more than an _essay_
("attempt"), a suggestion, almost a poetic fancy. Despite
the occasional Ranterish enthusiasm of my language I am not
trying to construct political dogma. In fact I have
deliberately refrained from defining the TAZ--I circle
around the subject, firing off exploratory beams. In the end
the TAZ is almost self-explanatory. If the phrase became
current it would be understood without
difficulty...understood in action.

Waiting for the Revolution

HOW IS IT THAT "the world turned upside-down" always manages
to _Right_ itself? Why does reaction always follow
revolution, like seasons in Hell?

_Uprising_, or the Latin form _insurrection_, are words used
by historians to label _failed_ revolutions--movements which
do not match the expected curve, the consensus-approved
trajectory: revolution, reaction, betrayal, the founding of
a stronger and even more oppressive State--the turning of
the wheel, the return of history again and again to its
highest form: jackboot on the face of humanity forever.

By failing to follow this curve, the _up-rising_ suggests
the possibility of a movement outside and beyond the
Hegelian spiral of that "progress" which is secretly nothing
more than a vicious circle. _Surgo_--rise up, surge.
_Insurgo_--rise up, raise oneself up. A bootstrap operation.
A goodbye to that wretched parody of the karmic round,
historical revolutionary futility. The slogan "Revolution!"
has mutated from tocsin to toxin, a malign pseudo-Gnostic
fate-trap, a nightmare where no matter how we struggle we
never escape that evil Aeon, that incubus the State, one
State after another, every "heaven" ruled by yet one more
evil angel.

If History IS "Time," as it claims to be, then the uprising
is a moment that springs up and out of Time, violates the
"law" of History. If the State IS History, as it claims to
be, then the insurrection is the forbidden moment, an
unforgivable denial of the dialectic--shimmying up the pole
and out of the smokehole, a shaman's maneuver carried out at
an "impossible angle" to the universe.
History says the Revolution attains "permanence," or at
least duration, while the uprising is "temporary." In this
sense an uprising is like a "peak experience" as opposed to
the standard of "ordinary" consciousness and experience.
Like festivals, uprisings cannot happen every day--otherwise
they would not be "nonordinary." But such moments of
intensity give shape and meaning to the entirety of a life.
The shaman returns--you can't stay up on the roof forever--
but things have changed, shifts and integrations have
occurred--a _difference_ is made.

You will argue that this is a counsel of despair. What of
the anarchist dream, the Stateless state, the Commune, the
autonomous zone with _duration_, a free society, a free
_culture_? Are we to abandon that hope in return for some
existentialist _acte_gratuit_? The point is not to change
consciousness but to change the world.

I accept this as a fair criticism. I'd make two rejoinders
nevertheless; first, _revolution_ has never yet resulted in
achieving this dream. The vision comes to life in the moment
of uprising--but as soon as "the Revolution" triumphs and
the State returns, the dream and the ideal are _already_
betrayed. I have not given up hope or even expectation of
change--but I distrust the word _Revolution_. Second, even
if we replace the revolutionary approach with a concept of
_insurrection_blossoming_spontaneously_into_anarchist_
culture_, our own particular historical situation is not
propitious for such a vast undertaking. Absolutely nothing
but a futile martyrdom could possibly result now from a head-
on collision with the terminal State, the megacorporate
information State, the empire of Spectacle and Simulation.
Its guns are all pointed at us, while our meager weaponry
finds nothing to aim at but a hysteresis, a rigid vacuity, a
Spook capable of smothering every spark in an ectoplasm of
information, a society of capitulation ruled by the image of
the Cop and the absorbant eye of the TV screen.

In short, we're not touting the TAZ as an exclusive end in
itself, replacing all other forms of organization, tactics,
and goals. We recommend it because it can provide the
quality of enhancement associated with the uprising without
necessarily leading to violence and martyrdom. The TAZ is
like an uprising which does not engage directly with the
State, a guerilla operation which liberates an area (of
land, of time, of imagination) and then dissolves itself to
re-form elsewhere/elsewhen, _before_ the State can crush it.
Because the State is concerned primarily with Simulation
rather than substance, the TAZ can "occupy" these areas
clandestinely and carry on its festal purposes for quite a
while in relative peace. Perhaps certain small TAZs have
lasted whole lifetimes because they went unnoticed, like
hillbilly enclaves--because they never intersected with the
Spectacle, never appeared outside that real life which is
invisible to the agents of Simulation.

Babylon takes its abstractions for realities; precisely
_within_ this margin of error the TAZ can come into
existence. Getting the TAZ started may involve tactics of
violence and defense, but its greatest strength lies in its
invisibility--the State cannot recognize it because History
has no definition of it. As soon as the TAZ is named
(represented, mediated), it must vanish, it _will_ vanish,
leaving behind it an empty husk, only to spring up again
somewhere else, once again invisible because undefinable in
terms of the Spectacle. The TAZ is thus a perfect tactic for
an era in which the State is omnipresent and all-powerful
and yet simultaneously riddled with cracks and vacancies.
And because the TAZ is a microcosm of that "anarchist dream"
of a free culture, I can think of no better tactic by which
to work toward that goal while at the same time experiencing
some of its benefits here and now.

In sum, realism demands not only that we give up _waiting_
for "the Revolution" but also that we give up _wanting_ it.
"Uprising," yes--as often as possible and even at the risk
of violence. The _spasming_ of the Simulated State will be
"spectacular," but in most cases the best and most radical
tactic will be to refuse to engage in spectacular violence,
to _withdraw_ from the area of simulation, to disappear.

The TAZ is an encampment of guerilla ontologists: strike and
run away. Keep moving the entire tribe, even if it's only
data in the Web. The TAZ must be capable of defense; but
both the "strike" and the "defense" should, if possible,
evade the violence of the State, which is no longer a
_meaningful_ violence. The strike is made at structures of
control, essentially at ideas; the defense is
"invisibility," a _martial_art_, and "invulnerability"--an
"occult" art within the martial arts. The "nomadic war
machine" conquers without being noticed and moves on before
the map can be adjusted. As to the future--Only the
autonomous can _plan_ autonomy, organize for it, create it.
It's a bootstrap operation. The first step is somewhat akin
to _satori_--the realization that the TAZ begins with a
simple act of realization.

(Note: See Appendix C, quote by Renzo Novatore)

The Psychotopology of Everyday Life

THE CONCEPT OF THE TAZ arises first out of a critique of
Revolution, and an appreciation of the Insurrection. The
former labels the latter a failure; but for us _uprising_
represents a far more interesting possibility, from the
standard of a psychology of liberation, than all the
"successful" revolutions of bourgeoisie, communists,
fascists, etc.

The second generating force behind the TAZ springs from the
historical development I call "the closure of the map." The
last bit of Earth unclaimed by any nation-state was eaten up
in 1899. Ours is the first century without
_terra_incognita_, without a frontier. Nationality is the
highest principle of world governance--not one speck of rock
in the South Seas can be left _open_, not one remote valley,
not even the Moon and planets. This is the apotheosis of
"territorial gangsterism." Not one square inch of Earth goes
unpoliced or untaxed...in theory.

The "map" is a political abstract grid, a gigantic _con_
enforced by the carrot/stick conditioning of the "Expert"
State, until for most of us the map _becomes_ the territory-
-no longer "Turtle Island," but "the USA." And yet because
the map is an abstraction it cannot cover Earth with 1:1
accuracy. Within the fractal complexities of actual
geography the map can see only dimensional grids. Hidden
enfolded immensities escape the measuring rod. The map is
not accurate; the map _cannot_ be accurate.

So--Revolution is closed, but insurgency is open. For the
time being we concentrate our force on temporary "power
surges," avoiding all entanglements with "permanent
solutions."

And--the map is closed, but the autonomous zone is open.
Metaphorically it unfolds within the fractal dimensions
invisible to the cartography of Control. And here we should
introduce the concept of psychotopology (and -topography) as
an alternative "science" to that of the State's surveying
and mapmaking and "psychic imperialism." Only
psychotopography can draw 1:1 maps of reality because only
the human mind provides sufficient complexity to model the
real. But a 1:1 map cannot "control" its territory because
it is virtually identical with its territory. It can only be
used to _suggest_, in a sense _gesture_towards_, certain
features. We are looking for "spaces" (geographic, social,
cultural, imaginal) with potential to flower as autonomous
zones--and we are looking for times in which these spaces
are relatively open, either through neglect on the part of
the State or because they have somehow escaped notice by the
mapmakers, or for whatever reason. Psychotopology is the art
of _dowsing_ for potential TAZs.

The closures of Revolution and of the map, however, are only
the negative sources of the TAZ; much remains to be said of
its positive inspirations. Reaction alone cannot provide the
energy needed to "manifest" a TAZ. An uprising must be _for_
something as well.

1. First, we can speak of a natural anthropology of the TAZ.
The nuclear family is the base unit of consensus society,
but not of the TAZ. ("Families!--how I hate them! the misers
of love!"--Gide) The nuclear family, with its attendant
"oedipal miseries," appears to have been a Neolithic
invention, a response to the "agricultural revolution" with
its imposed scarcity and its imposed hierarchy. The
Paleolithic model is at once more primal and more radical:
the _band_. The typical hunter/gatherer nomadic or semi-
nomadic band consists of about 50 people. Within larger
tribal societies the band-structure is fulfilled by clans
within the tribe, or by sodalities such as initiatic or
secret societies, hunt or war societies, gender societies,
"children's republics," and so on. If the nuclear family is
produced by scarcity (and results in miserliness), the band
is produced by abundance--and results in prodigality. The
family is _closed_, by genetics, by the male's _possession_
of women and children, by the hierarchic totality of
agricultural/industrial society. The band is _open_--not to
everyone, of course, but to the affinity group, the
initiates sworn to a bond of love. The band is not part of a
larger hierarchy, but rather part of a horizontal pattern of
custom, extended kinship, contract and alliance, spiritual
affinities, etc. (American Indian society preserves certain
aspects of this structure even now.)

In our own post-Spectacular Society of Simulation many
forces are working--largely invisibly--to phase out the
nuclear family and bring back the band. Breakdowns in the
structure of Work resonate in the shattered "stability" of
the unit-home and unit-family. One's "band" nowadays
includes friends, ex-spouses and lovers, people met at
different jobs and pow-wows, affinity groups, special
interest networks, mail networks, etc. The nuclear family
becomes more and more obviously a _trap_, a cultural
sinkhole, a neurotic secret implosion of split atoms--and
the obvious counter-strategy emerges spontaneously in the
almost unconscious rediscovery of the more archaic and yet
more post-industrial possibility of the band.

2. The TAZ as _festival_. Stephen Pearl Andrews once
offered, as an image of anarchist society, the
_dinner_party_, in which all structure of authority
dissolves in conviviality and celebration (see Appendix C).
Here we might also invoke Fourier and his concept of the
senses as the basis of social becoming--"touch-rut" and
"gastrosophy," and his paean to the neglected implications
of smell and taste. The ancient concepts of jubilee and
saturnalia originate in an intuition that certain events lie
outside the scope of "profane time," the measuring-rod of
the State and of History. These holidays literally occupied
gaps in the calendar--_intercalary_intervals_. By the Middle
Ages, nearly a third of the year was given over to holidays.
Perhaps the riots against calendar reform had less to do
with the "eleven lost days" than with a sense that imperial
science was conspiring to close up these gaps in the
calendar where the people's freedoms had accumulated--a coup
d'etat, a mapping of the year, a seizure of time itself,
turning the organic cosmos into a clockwork universe. The
death of the festival.

Participants in insurrection invariably note its festive
aspects, even in the midst of armed struggle, danger, and
risk. The uprising is like a saturnalia which has slipped
loose (or been forced to vanish) from its intercalary
interval and is now at liberty to pop up anywhere or when.
Freed of time and place, it nevertheless possesses a nose
for the ripeness of events, and an affinity for the
_genius_loci_; the science of psychotopology indicates
"flows of forces" and "spots of power" (to borrow occultist
metaphors) which localize the TAZ spatio-temporally, or at
least help to define its relation to moment and locale.

The media invite us to "come celebrate the moments of your
life" with the spurious unification of commodity and
spectacle, the famous _non-event_ of pure representation. In
response to this obscenity we have, on the one hand, the
spectrum of _refusal_ (chronicled by the Situationists, John
Zerzan, Bob Black _et_al_.)--and on the other hand, the
emergence of a _festal_culture_ removed and even hidden from
the would-be managers of our leisure. "Fight for the right
to party" is in fact not a parody of the radical struggle
but a new manifestation of it, appropriate to an age which
offers TVs and telephones as ways to "reach out and touch"
other human beings, ways to "Be There!"

Pearl Andrews was right: the dinner party is already "the
seed of the new society taking shape within the shell of the
old" (IWW Preamble). The sixties-style "tribal gathering,"
the forest conclave of eco-saboteurs, the idyllic Beltane of
the neo-pagans, anarchist conferences, gay faery
circles...Harlem rent parties of the twenties, nightclubs,
banquets, old-time libertarian picnics--we should realize
that all these are already "liberated zones" of a sort, or
at least potential TAZs. Whether open only to a few friends,
like a dinner party, or to thousands of celebrants, like a
Be-In, the party is always "open" because it is not
"ordered"; it may be planned, but unless it "_happens_" it's
a failure. The element of spontaneity is crucial.

The essence of the party: face-to-face, a group of humans
synergize their efforts to realize mutual desires, whether
for good food and cheer, dance, conversation, the arts of
life; perhaps even for erotic pleasure, or to create a
communal artwork, or to attain the very transport of bliss--
in short, a "union of egoists" (as Stirner put it) in its
simplest form--or else, in Kropotkin's terms, a basic
biological drive to "mutual aid." (Here we should also
mention Bataille's "economy of excess" and his theory of
potlatch culture.)

3. Vital in shaping TAZ reality is the concept of
_psychic_nomadism_ (or as we jokingly call it, "rootless
cosmopolitanism"). Aspects of this phenomenon have been
discussed by Deleuze and Guattari in
_Nomadology_and_the_War_Machine_, by Lyotard in _Driftworks_
and by various authors in the "Oasis" issue of
_Semiotext(e)_. We use the term "psychic nomadism" here
rather than "urban nomadism," "nomadology," "driftwork,"
etc., simply in order to garner all these concepts into a
single loose complex, to be studied in light of the coming-
into-being of the TAZ.
"The death of God," in some ways a de-centering of the
entire "European" project, opened a multi-perspectived post-
ideological worldview able to move "rootlessly" from
philosophy to tribal myth, from natural science to Taoism--
able to see for the first time through eyes like some golden
insect's, each facet giving a view of an entirely other
world.

But this vision was attained at the expense of inhabiting an
epoch where speed and "commodity fetishism" have created a
tyrannical false unity which tends to blur all cultural
diversity and individuality, so that "one place is as good
as another." This paradox creates "gypsies," psychic
travellers driven by desire or curiosity, wanderers with
shallow loyalties (in fact disloyal to the "European
Project" which has lost all its charm and vitality), not
tied down to any particular time and place, in search of
diversity and adventure...This description covers not only
the X-class artists and intellectuals but also migrant
laborers, refugees, the "homeless," tourists, the RV and
mobile-home culture--also people who "travel" via the Net,
but may never leave their own rooms (or those like Thoreau
who "have travelled much--in Concord"); and finally it
includes
"everybody," all of us, living through our automobiles, our
vacations, our TVs, books, movies, telephones, changing
jobs, changing "lifestyles," religions, diets, etc., etc.

Psychic nomadism as a _tactic_, what Deleuze & Guattari
metaphorically call "the war machine," shifts the paradox
from a passive to an active and perhaps even "violent" mode.
"God"'s last throes and deathbed rattles have been going on
for such a long time--in the form of Capitalism, Fascism,
and Communism, for example--that there's still a lot of
"creative destruction" to be carried out by post-Bakuninist
post-Nietzschean commandos or _apaches_ (literally
"enemies") of the old Consensus. These nomads practice the
_razzia_, they are corsairs, they are viruses; they have
both need and desire for TAZs, camps of black tents under
the desert stars,
interzones, hidden fortified oases along secret caravan
routes, "liberated" bits of jungle and bad-land, no-go
areas, black markets, and underground bazaars.

These nomads chart their courses by strange stars, which
might be luminous clusters of data in cyberspace, or perhaps
hallucinations. Lay down a map of the land; over that, set a
map of political change; over that, a map of the Net,
especially the counter-Net with its emphasis on clandestine
information-flow and logistics--and finally, over all, the
1:1 map of the creative imagination, aesthetics, values. The
resultant grid comes to life, animated by unexpected eddies
and surges of energy, coagulations of light, secret tunnels,
surprises.

The Net and the Web

THE NEXT FACTOR CONTRIBUTING to the TAZ is so vast and
ambiguous that it needs a section unto itself.

We've spoken of the _Net_, which can be defined as the
totality of all information and communication transfer. Some
of these transfers are privileged and limited to various
elites, which gives the Net a hierarchic aspect. Other
transactions are open to all--so the Net has a horizontal or
non-hierarchic aspect as well. Military and Intelligence
data are restricted, as are banking and currency information
and the like. But for the most part the telephone, the
postal system, public data banks, etc. are accessible to
everyone and anyone. Thus _within_the_Net_ there has begun
to emerge a shadowy sort of _counter-Net_, which we will
call the _Web_ (as if the Net were a fishing-net and the Web
were spider-webs woven through the interstices and broken
sections of the Net). Generally we'll use the term _Web_ to
refer to the alternate horizontal open structure of info-
exchange, the non-hierarchic network, and reserve the term
_counter-Net_ to indicate clandestine illegal and rebellious
use of the Web, including actual data-piracy and other forms
of leeching off the Net itself. Net, Web, and counter-Net
are all parts of the same whole pattern-complex--they blur
into each other at innumerable points. The terms are not
meant to define areas but to suggest tendencies.

(Digression: Before you condemn the Web or counter-Net for
its "parasitism," which can never be a truly revolutionary
force, ask yourself what "production" consists of in the Age
of Simulation. What is the "productive class"? Perhaps
you'll be forced to admit that these terms seem to have lost
their meaning. In any case the answers to such questions are
so complex that the TAZ tends to ignore them altogether and
simply picks up what it can _use_. "Culture is our Nature"--
and we are the thieving magpies, or the hunter/gatherers of
the world of CommTech.)

The present forms of the unofficial Web are, one must
suppose, still rather primitive: the marginal zine network,
the BBS networks, pirated software, hacking, phone-
phreaking, some influence in print and radio, almost none in
the other big media--no TV stations, no satellites, no fiber-
optics, no cable, etc., etc. However the Net itself presents
a pattern of changing/evolving relations between subjects
("users") and objects ("data"). The nature of these
relations has been exhaustively explored, from McLuhan to
Virilio. It would take pages and pages to "prove" what by
now "everyone knows." Rather than rehash it all, I am
interested in asking how these evolving relations suggest
modes of implementation for the TAZ.

The TAZ has a temporary but actual location in time and a
temporary but actual location in space. But clearly it must
also have "location" _in_the_Web_, and this location is of a
different sort, not actual but virtual, not immediate but
instantaneous. The Web not only provides logistical support
for the TAZ, it also helps to bring it into being; crudely
speaking one might say that the TAZ "exists" in information-
space as well as in the "real world." The Web can compact a
great deal of time, as data, into an infinitesimal "space."
We have noted that the TAZ, because it is temporary, must
necessarily lack some of the advantages of a freedom which
experiences _duration_ and a more-or-less fixed _locale_.
But the Web can provide a kind of substitute for some of
this duration and locale--it can _inform_ the TAZ, from its
inception, with vast amounts of compacted time and space
which have been "subtilized" as data.

At this moment in the evolution of the Web, and considering
our demands for the "face-to-face" and the sensual, we must
consider the Web primarily as a support system, capable of
carrying information from one TAZ to another, of defending
the TAZ, rendering it "invisible" or giving it teeth, as the
situation might demand. But more than that: If the TAZ is a
nomad camp, then the Web helps provide the epics, songs,
genealogies and legends of the tribe; it provides the secret
caravan routes and raiding trails which make up the
flowlines of tribal economy; it even _contains_ some of the
very roads they will follow, some of the very dreams they
will experience as signs and portents.

The Web does not depend for its existence on any computer
technology. Word-of-mouth, mail, the marginal zine network,
"phone trees," and the like already suffice to construct an
information webwork. The key is not the brand or level of
tech involved, but the openness and horizontality of the
structure. Nevertheless, the whole concept of the Net
_implies_ the use of computers. In the SciFi imagination the
Net is headed for the condition of Cyberspace (as in _Tron_
or _Neuromancer_) and the pseudo-telepathy of "virtual
reality." As a Cyberpunk fan I can't help but envision
"reality hacking" playing a major role in the creation of
TAZs. Like Gibson and Sterling I am assuming that the
official Net will never succeed in shutting down the Web or
the counter-Net--that data-piracy, unauthorized
transmissions and the free flow of information can never be
frozen. (In fact, as I understand it, chaos theory
_predicts_ that any universal Control-system is impossible.)

However, leaving aside all mere speculation about the
future, we must face a very serious question about the Web
and the tech it involves. The TAZ desires above all to avoid
_mediation_, to experience its existence as _immediate_. The
very essence of the affair is "breast-to-breast" as the
sufis say, or face-to-face. But, BUT: the very essence of
the Web is mediation. Machines here are our ambassadors--the
flesh is irrelevant except as a _terminal_, with all the
sinister connotations of the term.

The TAZ may perhaps best find its own space by wrapping its
head around two seemingly contradictory attitudes toward Hi-
Tech and its apotheosis the Net: (1) what we might call the
_Fifth Estate_/Neo-Paleolithic Post-Situ Ultra-Green
position, which construes itself as a luddite argument
against mediation and against the Net; and (2) the Cyberpunk
utopianists, futuro-libertarians, Reality Hackers and their
allies who see the Net as a step forward in evolution, and
who assume that any possible ill effects of mediation can be
overcome--at least, once we've liberated the means of
production.

The TAZ agrees with the hackers because it wants to come
into being--in part--through the Net, even through the
mediation of the Net. But it also agrees with the greens
because it retains intense awareness of itself as _body_ and
feels only revulsion for _CyberGnosis_, the attempt to
transcend the body through instantaneity and simulation. The
TAZ tends to view the Tech/anti-Tech dichotomy as
misleading, like most dichotomies, in which apparent
opposites turn out to be falsifications or even
hallucinations caused by semantics. This is a way of saying
that the TAZ wants to live in _this_ world, not in the idea
of another world, some visionary world born of false
unification (_all_ green OR _all_ metal) which can only be
more pie in the sky by-&-by (or as _Alice_ put it, "Jam
yesterday or jam tomorrow, but never jam today").

The TAZ is "utopian" in the sense that it envisions an
_intensification_ of everyday life, or as the Surrealists
might have said, life's penetration by the Marvelous. But it
cannot be utopian in the actual meaning of the word,
_nowhere_, or NoPlace Place. _The_TAZ_is_somewhere_. It lies
at the intersection of many forces, like some pagan power-
spot at the junction of mysterious ley-lines, visible to the
adept in seemingly unrelated bits of terrain, landscape,
flows of air, water, animals. But now the lines are not all
etched in time and space. Some of them exist only "within"
the Web, even though they also intersect with real times and
places. Perhaps some of the lines are "non-ordinary" in the
sense that no convention for quantifying them exists. These
lines might better be studied in the light of chaos science
than of sociology, statistics, economics, etc. The patterns
of force which bring the TAZ into being have something in
common with those chaotic "Strange Attractors" which exist,
so to speak, _between_ the dimensions.

The TAZ by its very nature seizes every available means to
realize itself--it will come to life whether in a cave or an
L-5 Space City--but above all it will live, now, or as soon
as possible, in however suspect or ramshackle a form,
spontaneously, without regard for ideology or even anti-
ideology. It will use the computer because the computer
exists, but it will also use powers which are so completely
unrelated to alienation or simulation that they guarantee a
certain
_psychic_paleolithism_ to the TAZ, a primordial-shamanic
spirit which will "infect" even the Net itself (the true
meaning of Cyberpunk as I read it). Because the TAZ is an
intensification, a surplus, an excess, a potlatch, life
spending itself in living rather than merely _surviving_
(that snivelling shibboleth of the eighties), it cannot be
defined either by Tech or anti-Tech. It contradicts itself
like a true despiser of hobgoblins, because it wills itself
to be, at any cost in damage to "perfection," to the
immobility of the final.

In the Mandelbrot Set and its computer-graphic realization
we watch--in a fractal universe--maps which are embedded and
in fact hidden within maps within maps etc. to the limits of
computational power. What is it _for_, this map which in a
sense bears a 1:1 relation with a fractal dimension? What
can one do with it, other than admire its psychedelic
elegance?
If we were to imagine an _information_map_--a cartographic
projection of the Net in its entirety--we would have to
include in it the features of chaos, which have already
begun to appear, for example, in the operations of complex
parallel processing, telecommunications, transfers of
electronic "money," viruses, guerilla hacking and so on.

Each of these "areas" of chaos could be represented by
topographs similar to the Mandelbrot Set, such that the
"peninsulas" are embedded or hidden within the map--such
that they seem to "disappear." This "writing"--parts of
which vanish, parts of which efface themselves--represents
the very process by which the Net is already compromised,
incomplete to its own view, ultimately un-Controllable. In
other words, the M Set, or something like it, might prove to
be useful in "plotting" (in all senses of the word) the
emergence of the counterNet as a chaotic process, a
"creative evolution" in Prigogine's term. If nothing else
the M Set serves as a _metaphor_ for a "mapping" of the
TAZ's interface with the Net as a
_disappearance_of_information_. Every "catastrophe" in the
Net is a node of power for the Web, the counter-Net. The Net
will be damaged by chaos, while the Web may thrive on it.

Whether through simple data-piracy, or else by a more
complex development of actual rapport with chaos, the Web-
hacker, the cybernetician of the TAZ, will find ways to take
advantage of perturbations, crashes, and breakdowns in the
Net (ways to make information out of "entropy"). As a
bricoleur, a scavenger of information shards, smuggler,
blackmailer, perhaps even cyberterrorist, the TAZ-hacker
will work for the evolution of clandestine fractal
connections. These connections, and the _different_
information that flows among and between them, will form
"power outlets" for the coming-into-being of the TAZ itself-
-as if one were to steal electricity from the energy-
monopoly to light an abandoned house for squatters.

Thus the Web, in order to produce situations conducive to
the TAZ, will parasitize the Net--but we can also conceive
of this strategy as an attempt to build toward the
construction of an alternative and autonomous Net, "free"
and no longer parasitic, which will serve as the basis for a
"new society emerging from the shell of the old." The
counter-Net and the TAZ can be considered, practically
speaking, as ends in themselves--but theoretically they can
also be viewed as forms of struggle toward a different
reality.

Having said this we must still admit to some qualms about
computers, some still unanswered questions, especially about
the Personal Computer.

The story of computer networks, BBSs and various other
experiments in electro-democracy has so far been one of
_hobbyism_ for the most part. Many anarchists and
libertarians have deep faith in the PC as a weapon of
liberation and self-liberation--but no real gains to show,
no palpable liberty.

I have little interest in some hypothetical emergent
entrepreneurial class of self-employed data/word processors
who will soon be able to carry on a vast cottage industry or
piecemeal shitwork for various corporations and
bureaucracies. Moreover it takes no ESP to foresee that this
"class" will develop its _under_class--a sort of lumpen
yuppetariat: housewives, for example, who will provide their
families with "second incomes" by turning their own homes
into electro-sweatshops, little Work-tyrannies where the
"boss" is a computer network.

Also I am not impressed by the sort of information and
services proffered by contemporary "radical" networks.
Somewhere--one is told--there exists an "information
economy." Maybe so; but the info being traded over the
"alternative" BBSs seems to consist entirely of chitchat and
techie-talk. Is this an economy? or merely a pastime for
enthusiasts? OK, PCs have created yet another "print
revolution"--OK, marginal webworks are evolving--OK, I can
now carry on six phone conversations at once. But what
difference has this made in my ordinary life?

Frankly, I already had plenty of data to enrich my
perceptions, what with books, movies, TV, theater,
telephones, the U.S. Postal Service, altered states of
consciousness, and so on. Do I really need a PC in order to
obtain yet more such data? You offer me _secret_
information? Well...perhaps I'm tempted--but still I demand
_marvelous_ secrets, not just unlisted telephone numbers or
the trivia of cops and politicians. Most of all I want
computers to provide me with information linked to
_real_goods_--"the good things in life," as the IWW Preamble
puts it. And here, since I'm accusing the hackers and BBSers
of irritating intellectual vagueness, I must myself descend
from the baroque clouds of Theory & Critique and explain
what I mean by "real goods."

Let's say that for both political and personal reasons I
desire good food, better than I can obtain from Capitalism--
unpolluted food still blessed with strong and natural
flavors. To complicate the game imagine that the food I
crave is illegal--raw milk perhaps, or the exquisite Cuban
fruit _mamey_, which cannot be imported fresh into the U.S.
because its seed is hallucinogenic (or so I'm told). I am
not a farmer. Let's pretend I'm an importer of rare perfumes
and aphrodisiacs, and sharpen the play by assuming most of
my stock is also illegal. Or maybe I only want to trade word
processing services for organic turnips, but refuse to
report the transaction to the IRS (as required by law,
believe it or not). Or maybe I want to meet other humans for
consensual but illegal acts of mutual pleasure (this has
actually been tried, but all the hard-sex BBSs have been
busted--and what use is an underground with
_lousy_security_?). In short, assume that I'm fed up with
mere information, the ghost in the machine. According to
you, computers should already be quite capable of
facilitating my desires for food, drugs, sex, tax evasion.
So what's the matter? Why isn't it happening?

The TAZ has occurred, is occurring, and will occur with or
without the computer. But for the TAZ to reach its full
potential it must become less a matter of spontaneous
combustion and more a matter of "islands in the Net." The
Net, or rather the counter-Net, assumes the promise of an
integral aspect of the TAZ, an addition that will multiply
its potential, a "quantum jump" (odd how this expression has
come to mean a _big_ leap) in complexity and significance.
The TAZ must now exist within a world of pure space, the
world of the senses. Liminal, even evanescent, the TAZ must
combine information and desire in order to fulfill its
adventure (its "happening"), in order to fill itself to the
borders of its destiny, to saturate itself with its own
becoming.

Perhaps the Neo-Paleolithic School are correct when they
assert that all forms of alienation and mediation must be
destroyed or abandoned before our goals can be realized--or
perhaps true anarchy will be realized only in Outer Space,
as some futuro-libertarians assert. But the TAZ does not
concern itself very much with "was" or "will be." The TAZ is
interested in results, successful raids on consensus
reality, breakthroughs into more intense and more abundant
life. If the computer cannot be used in this project, then
the computer will have to be overcome. My intuition however
suggests that the counter-Net is already coming into being,
perhaps already exists--but I cannot prove it. I've based
the theory of the TAZ in large part on this intuition. Of
course the Web also involves non-computerized networks of
exchange such as samizdat, the black market, etc.--but the
full potential of non-hierarchic information networking
logically leads to the computer as the tool par excellence.
Now I'm waiting for the hackers to prove I'm right, that my
intuition is valid. Where are my turnips?

"Gone to Croatan"

WE HAVE NO DESIRE to define the TAZ or to elaborate dogmas
about how it _must_ be created. Our contention is rather
that it has been created, will be created, and is being
created. Therefore it would prove more valuable and
interesting to look at some TAZs past and present, and to
speculate about future manifestations; by evoking a few
prototypes we may be able to gauge the potential scope of
the complex, and perhaps even get a glimpse of an
"archetype." Rather than attempt any sort of encyclopaedism
we'll adopt a scatter-shot technique, a mosaic of glimpses,
beginning quite arbitrarily with the 16th-17th centuries and
the settlement of the New World.

The opening of the "new" world was conceived from the start
as an _occultist_operation_. The magus John Dee, spiritual
advisor to Elizabeth I, seems to have invented the concept
of "magical imperialism" and infected an entire generation
with it. Halkyut and Raleigh fell under his spell, and
Raleigh used his connections with the "School of Night"--a
cabal of advanced thinkers, aristocrats, and adepts--to
further the causes of exploration, colonization and
mapmaking. _The_Tempest_ was a propaganda-piece for the new
ideology, and the Roanoke Colony was its first showcase
experiment.

The alchemical view of the New World associated it with
_materia_prima_ or _hyle_, the "state of Nature," innocence
and all-possibility ("Virgin-ia"), a chaos or inchoateness
which the adept would transmute into "gold," that is, into
spiritual perfection _as_well_as_ material abundance.
But this alchemical vision is also informed in part by an
actual fascination with the inchoate, a sneaking sympathy
for it, a feeling of yearning for its formless form which
took the symbol of the "Indian" for its focus: "Man" _in_
the state of nature, uncorrupted by "government." Caliban,
the Wild Man, is lodged like a virus in the very machine of
Occult Imperialism; the forest/animal/humans are invested
from the very start with the magic power of the marginal,
despised and outcaste. On the one hand Caliban is ugly, and
Nature a "howling wilderness"--on the other, Caliban is
noble and unchained, and Nature an Eden. This split in
European consciousness predates the Romantic/Classical
dichotomy; it's rooted in Renaissance High Magic. The
discovery of America (Eldorado, the Fountain of Youth)
crystallized it; and it precipitated in actual schemes for
colonization.

We were taught in elementary school that the first
settlements in Roanoke failed; the colonists disappeared,
leaving behind them only the cryptic message "Gone To
Croatan." Later reports of "grey-eyed Indians" were
dismissed as legend. What really happened, the textbook
implied, was that the Indians massacred the defenseless
settlers. However, "Croatan" was not some Eldorado; it was
the name of a neighboring tribe of friendly Indians.
Apparently the settlement was simply moved back from the
coast into the Great Dismal Swamp and absorbed into the
tribe. And the grey-eyed Indians were real--they're
_still_there_, and they still call themselves Croatans.

So--the very first colony in the New World chose to renounce
its contract with Prospero (Dee/Raleigh/Empire) and go over
to the Wild Men with Caliban. They dropped out. They became
"Indians," "went native," opted for chaos over the appalling
miseries of serfing for the plutocrats and intellectuals of
London.

As America came into being where once there had been "Turtle
Island," Croatan remained embedded in its collective psyche.
Out beyond the frontier, the state of Nature (i.e. no State)
still prevailed--and within the consciousness of the
settlers the option of wildness always lurked, the
temptation to give up on Church, farmwork, literacy, taxes--
all the burdens of civilization--and "go to Croatan" in some
way or another. Moreover, as the Revolution in England was
betrayed, first by Cromwell and then by Restoration, waves
of Protestant radicals fled or were transported to the New
World (which had now become a _prison_, a place of _exile_).
Antinomians, Familists, rogue Quakers, Levellers, Diggers,
and Ranters were now introduced to the occult shadow of
wildness, and rushed to embrace it.

Anne Hutchinson and her friends were only the best known
(i.e. the most upper-class) of the Antinomians--having had
the bad luck to be caught up in Bay Colony politics--but a
much more radical wing of the movement clearly existed. The
incidents Hawthorne relates in "The Maypole of Merry Mount"
are thoroughly historical; apparently the extremists had
decided to renounce Christianity altogether and revert to
paganism. If they had succeeded in uniting with their Indian
allies the result might have been an
Antinomian/Celtic/Algonquin syncretic religion, a sort of
17th century North American _Santeria_.

Sectarians were able to thrive better under the looser and
more corrupt administrations in the Caribbean, where rival
European interests had left many islands deserted or even
unclaimed. Barbados and Jamaica in particular must have been
settled by many extremists, and I believe that Levellerish
and Ranterish influences contributed to the Buccaneer
"utopia" on Tortuga. Here for the first time, thanks to
Esquemelin, we can study a successful New World proto-TAZ in
some depth. Fleeing from hideous "benefits" of Imperialism
such as slavery, serfdom, racism and intolerance, from the
tortures of impressment and the living death of the
plantations, the Buccaneers adopted Indian ways,
intermarried with Caribs, accepted blacks and Spaniards as
equals, rejected all nationality, elected their captains
democratically, and reverted to the "state of Nature."
Having declared themselves "at war with all the world," they
sailed forth to plunder under mutual contracts called
"Articles" which were so egalitarian that every member
received a full share and the Captain usually only 1 1/4 or
1 1/2 shares. Flogging and punishments were forbidden--
quarrels were settled by vote or by the code duello.

It is simply wrong to brand the pirates as mere sea-going
highwaymen or even proto-capitalists, as some historians
have done. In a sense they were "social bandits," although
their base communities were not traditional peasant
societies but "utopias" created almost ex nihilo in terra
incognita, enclaves of total liberty occupying empty spaces
on the map. After the fall of Tortuga, the Buccaneer ideal
remained alive all through the "Golden Age" of Piracy (ca.
1660-1720), and resulted in land-settlements in Belize, for
example, which was founded by Buccaneers. Then, as the scene
shifted to Madagascar--an island still unclaimed by any
imperial power and ruled only by a patchwork of native kings
(chiefs) eager for pirate allies--the Pirate Utopia reached
its highest form.

Defoe's account of Captain Mission and the founding of
Libertatia may be, as some historians claim, a literary hoax
meant to propagandize for radical Whig theory--but it was
embedded in _The_General_History_of_the_Pyrates_ (1724-28),
most of which is still accepted as true and accurate.
Moreover the story of Capt. Mission was not criticized when
the book appeared and many old Madagascar hands still
survived. _They_ seem to have believed it, no doubt because
they had experienced pirate enclaves very much like
Libertatia. Once again, rescued slaves, natives, and even
traditional enemies such as the Portuguese were all invited
to join as equals. (Liberating slave ships was a major
preoccupation.) Land was held in common, representatives
elected for short terms, booty shared; doctrines of liberty
were preached far more radical than even those of
_Common_Sense_.

Libertatia hoped to endure, and Mission died in its defense.
But most of the pirate utopias were meant to be temporary;
in fact the corsairs' true "republics" were their ships,
which sailed under Articles. The shore enclaves usually had
no law at all. The last classic example, Nassau in the
Bahamas, a beachfront resort of shacks and tents devoted to
wine, women (and probably boys too, to judge by Birge's
_Sodomy_and_Piracy_), song (the pirates were inordinately
fond of music and used to hire on bands for entire cruises),
and wretched excess, vanished overnight when the British
fleet appeared in the Bay. Blackbeard and "Calico Jack"
Rackham and his crew of pirate women moved on to wilder
shores and nastier fates, while others meekly accepted the
Pardon and reformed. But the Buccaneer tradition lasted,
both in Madagascar where the mixed-blood children of the
pirates began to carve out kingdoms of their own, and in the
Caribbean, where escaped slaves as well as mixed
black/white/red groups were able to thrive in the mountains
and backlands as "Maroons." The Maroon community in Jamaica
still retained a degree of autonomy and many of the old
folkways when Zora Neale Hurston visited there in the 1920's
(see _Tell_My_Horse_). The Maroons of Suriname still
practice African "paganism."

Throughout the 18th century, North America also produced a
number of drop-out "tri-racial isolate communities." (This
clinical-sounding term was invented by the Eugenics
Movement, which produced the first scientific studies of
these communities. Unfortunately the "science" merely served
as an excuse for hatred of racial "mongrels" and the poor,
and the "solution to the problem" was usually forced
sterilization.) The nuclei invariably consisted of runaway
slaves and serfs, "criminals" (i.e. the very poor),
"prostitutes" (i.e. white women who married non-whites), and
members of various native tribes. In some cases, such as the
Seminole and Cherokee, the traditional tribal structure
absorbed the newcomers; in other cases, new tribes were
formed. Thus we have the Maroons of the Great Dismal Swamp,
who persisted through the 18th and 19th centuries, adopting
runaway slaves, functioning as a way station on the
Underground Railway, and serving as a religious and
ideological center for slave rebellions. The religion was
HooDoo, a mixture of African, native, and Christian
elements, and according to the historian H. Leaming-Bey the
elders of the faith and the leaders of the Great Dismal
Maroons were known as "the Seven Finger High Glister."

The Ramapaughs of northern New Jersey (incorrectly known as
the "Jackson Whites") present another romantic and
archetypal genealogy: freed slaves of the Dutch poltroons,
various Delaware and Algonquin clans, the usual
"prostitutes," the "Hessians" (a catch-phrase for lost
British mercenaries, drop-out Loyalists, etc.), and local
bands of social bandits such as Claudius Smith's.

An African-Islamic origin is claimed by some of the groups,
such as the Moors of Delaware and the Ben Ishmaels, who
migrated from Kentucky to Ohio in the mid-18th century. The
Ishmaels practiced polygamy, never drank alcohol, made their
living as minstrels, intermarried with Indians and adopted
their customs, and were so devoted to nomadism that they
built their houses on wheels. Their annual migration
triangulated on frontier towns with names like Mecca and
Medina. In the 19th century some of them espoused anarchist
ideals, and they were targeted by the Eugenicists for a
particularly vicious pogrom of salvation-by-extermination.
Some of the earliest Eugenics laws were passed in their
honor. As a tribe they "disappeared" in the 1920's, but
probably swelled the ranks of early "Black Islamic" sects
such as the Moorish Science Temple.
I myself grew up on legends of the "Kallikaks" of the nearby
New Jersey Pine Barrens (and of course on Lovecraft, a rabid
racist who was fascinated by the isolate communities). The
legends turned out to be folk-memories of the slanders of
the Eugenicists, whose U.S. headquarters were in Vineland,
NJ, and who undertook the usual "reforms" against
"miscegenation" and "feeblemindedness" in the Barrens
(including the publication of photographs of the Kallikaks,
crudely and obviously retouched to make them look like
monsters of misbreeding).

The "isolate communities"--at least, those which have
retained their identity into the 20th century--consistently
refuse to be absorbed into either mainstream culture or the
black "subculture" into which modern sociologists prefer to
categorize them. In the 1970's, inspired by the Native
American renaissance, a number of groups--including the
Moors and the Ramapaughs--applied to the B.I.A. for
recognition as _Indian_tribes_. They received support from
native activists but were refused official status. If they'd
won, after all, it might have set a dangerous precedent for
drop-outs of all sorts, from "white Peyotists" and hippies
to black nationalists, aryans, anarchists and libertarians--
a "reservation" for anyone and everyone! The "European
Project" cannot recognize the existence of the Wild Man--
green chaos is still too much of a threat to the imperial
dream of order.

Essentially the Moors and Ramapaughs rejected the
"diachronic" or historical explanation of their origins in
favor of a "synchronic" self-identity based on a "myth" of
Indian adoption. Or to put it another way,
_they_named_themselves_"Indians."_ If everyone who wished
"to be an Indian" could accomplish this by an act of self-
naming, imagine what a departure to Croatan would take
place. That old occult shadow still haunts the remnants of
our forests (which, by the way, have greatly increased in
the Northeast since the 18-19th century as vast tracts of
farmland return to scrub. Thoreau on his deathbed dreamed of
the return of "...Indians...forests...": the return of the
repressed).

The Moors and Ramapaughs of course have good materialist
reasons to think of themselves as Indians--after all, they
have Indian ancestors--but if we view their self-naming in
"mythic" as well as historical terms we'll learn more of
relevance to our quest for the TAZ. Within tribal societies
there exist what some anthropologists call _mannenbunden_:
totemic societies devoted to an identity with "Nature" in
the act of shapeshifting, of _becoming_ the totem-animal
(werewolves, jaguar shamans, leopard men, cat-witches,
etc.). In the context of an entire colonial society (as
Taussig points out in
_Shamanism,_Colonialism_and_the_Wild_Man_) the shapeshifting
power is seen as inhering in the native culture as a whole--
thus the most repressed sector of the society acquires a
paradoxical power through the myth of its occult knowledge,
which is feared and desired by the colonist. Of course the
natives really do have certain occult knowledge; but in
response to Imperial perception of native culture as a kind
of "spiritual wild(er)ness," the natives come to see
themselves more and more consciously in that role. Even as
they are marginalized, the _Margin_ takes on an aura of
magic. Before the whiteman, they were simply tribes of
people--now, they are "guardians of Nature," inhabitants of
the "state of Nature." Finally the colonist himself is
seduced by this "myth." Whenever an American wants to drop
out or back into Nature, invariably he "becomes an Indian."
The Massachusetts radical democrats (spiritual descendents
of the radical Protestants) who organized the Tea Party, and
who literally believed that governments could be abolished
(the whole Berkshire region declared itself in a "state of
Nature"!), disguised themselves as "Mohawks." Thus the
colonists, who suddenly saw themselves marginalized vis-.-
vis the motherland, adopted the role of the marginalized
natives, thereby (in a sense) seeking to participate in
their occult power, their mythic radiance. From the Mountain
Men to the Boy Scouts, the dream of "becoming an Indian"
flows beneath myriad strands of American history, culture
and consciousness.

The sexual imagery connected to "tri-racial" groups also
bears out this hypothesis. "Natives" of course are always
immoral, but racial renegades and drop-outs must be
downright polymorphous-perverse. The Buccaneers were
buggers, the Maroons and Mountain Men were miscegenists, the
"Jukes and Kallikaks" indulged in fornication and incest
(leading to mutations such as polydactyly), the children ran
around naked and masturbated openly, etc., etc. Reverting to
a "state of Nature" paradoxically seems to allow for the
practice of every "_un_natural" act; or so it would appear
if we believe the Puritans and Eugenicists. And since many
people in repressed moralistic racist societies secretly
desire exactly these licentious acts, they project them
outwards onto the marginalized, and thereby convince
themselves that they themselves remain civilized and pure.
And in fact some marginalized communities do really reject
consensus morality--the pirates certainly did!--and no doubt
actually act out some of civilization's repressed desires.
(_Wouldn't_you?_) Becoming "wild" is always an erotic act,
an act of nakedness.
Before leaving the subject of the "tri-racial isolates," I'd
like to recall Nietzsche's enthusiasm for "race mixing."
Impressed by the vigor and beauty of hybrid cultures, he
offered miscegenation not only as a solution to the problem
of race but also as the principle for a new humanity freed
of ethnic and national chauvinism--a precursor to the
"psychic nomad," perhaps. Nietzsche's dream still seems as
remote now as it did to him. Chauvinism still rules OK.
Mixed cultures remain submerged. But the autonomous zones of
the Buccaneers and Maroons, Ishmaels and Moors, Ramapaughs
and "Kallikaks" remain, or their stories remain, as
indications of what Nietzsche might have called "the Will to
Power as Disappearance." We must return to this theme.

Music as an Organizational Principle

MEANWHILE, HOWEVER, WE TURN to the history of classical
anarchism in the light of the TAZ concept.

Before the "closure of the map," a good deal of anti-
authoritarian energy went into "escapist" communes such as
Modern Times, the various Phalansteries, and so on.
Interestingly, some of them were not intended to last
"forever," but only as long as the project proved
fulfilling. By Socialist/Utopian standards these experiments
were "failures," and therefore we know little about them.

When escape beyond the frontier proved impossible, the era
of revolutionary urban Communes began in Europe. The
Communes of Paris, Lyons and Marseilles did not survive long
enough to take on any characteristics of permanence, and one
wonders if they were meant to. From our point of view the
chief matter of fascination is the _spirit_ of the Communes.
During and after these years anarchists took up the practice
of revolutionary nomadism, drifting from uprising to
uprising, looking to keep alive in themselves the intensity
of spirit they experienced in the moment of insurrection. In
fact, certain anarchists of the Stirnerite/Nietzschean
strain came to look on this activity as an end in itself, a
way of _always_occupying_an_autonomous_zone_, the interzone
which opens up in the midst or wake of war and revolution
(cf. Pynchon's "zone" in _Gravity's_Rainbow_). They declared
that if any socialist revolution _succeeded_, they'd be the
first to turn against it. Short of universal anarchy they
had no intention of ever stopping. In Russia in 1917 they
greeted the free Soviets with joy: _this_ was their goal.
But as soon as the Bolsheviks betrayed the Revolution, the
individualist anarchists were the first to go back on the
warpath. After Kronstadt, of course, _all_ anarchists
condemned the "Soviet Union" (a contradiction in terms) and
moved on in search of new insurrections.

Makhno's Ukraine and anarchist Spain were meant to have
_duration_, and despite the exigencies of continual war both
succeeded to a certain extent: not that they lasted a "long
time," but they were successfully organized and could have
persisted if not for outside aggression. Therefore, from
among the experiments of the inter-War period I'll
concentrate instead on the madcap Republic of Fiume, which
is much less well known, and was _not_ meant to endure.
Gabriele D'Annunzio, Decadent poet, artist, musician,
aesthete, womanizer, pioneer daredevil aeronautist, black
magician, genius and cad, emerged from World War I as a hero
with a small army at his beck and command: the "Arditi." At
a loss for adventure, he decided to capture the city of
Fiume from Yugoslavia and _give_ it to Italy. After a
necromantic ceremony with his mistress in a cemetery in
Venice he set out to conquer Fiume, and succeeded without
any trouble to speak of. But Italy turned down his generous
offer; the Prime Minister called him a fool.
In a huff, D'Annunzio decided to declare independence and
see how long he could get away with it. He and one of his
anarchist friends wrote the Constitution, which declared
_music_to_be_the_central_principle_of_the_State_. The Navy
(made up of deserters and Milanese anarchist maritime
unionists) named themselves the _Uscochi_, after the long-
vanished pirates who once lived on local offshore islands
and preyed on Venetian and Ottoman shipping. The modern
Uscochi succeeded in some wild coups: several rich Italian
merchant vessels suddenly gave the Republic a future: money
in the coffers! Artists, bohemians, adventurers, anarchists
(D'Annunzio corresponded with Malatesta), fugitives and
Stateless refugees, homosexuals, military dandies (the
uniform was black with pirate skull-&-crossbones--later
stolen by the SS), and crank reformers of every stripe
(including Buddhists, Theosophists and Vedantists) began to
show up at Fiume in droves. The party never stopped. Every
morning D'Annunzio read poetry and manifestos from his
balcony; every evening a concert, then fireworks. This made
up the entire activity of the government. Eighteen months
later, when the wine and money had run out and the Italian
fleet _finally_ showed up and lobbed a few shells at the
Municipal Palace, no one had the energy to resist.

D'Annunzio, like many Italian anarchists, later veered
toward fascism--in fact, Mussolini (the ex-Syndicalist)
himself seduced the poet along that route. By the time
D'Annunzio realized his error it was too late: he was too
old and sick. But Il Duce had him killed anyway--pushed off
a balcony--and turned him into a "martyr." As for Fiume,
though it lacked the _seriousness_ of the free Ukraine or
Barcelona, it can probably teach us more about certain
aspects of our quest. It was in some ways the last of the
pirate utopias (or the only modern example)--in other ways,
perhaps, it was very nearly the first modern TAZ.

I believe that if we compare Fiume with the Paris uprising
of 1968 (also the Italian urban insurrections of the early
seventies), as well as with the American countercultural
communes and their anarcho-New Left influences, we should
notice certain similarities, such as:--the importance of
aesthetic theory (cf. the Situationists)--also, what might
be called "pirate economics," living high off the surplus of
social overproduction--even the popularity of colorful
military uniforms--and the concept of _music_ as
revolutionary social change--and finally their shared air of
impermanence, of being ready to move on, shape-shift, re-
locate to other universities, mountaintops, ghettos,
factories, safe houses, abandoned farms--or even other
planes of reality. No one was trying to impose yet another
Revolutionary Dictatorship, either at Fiume, Paris, or
Millbrook. Either the world would change, or it wouldn't.
Meanwhile keep on the move and _live_intensely_.

The Munich Soviet (or "Council Republic") of 1919 exhibited
certain features of the TAZ, even though--like most
revolutions--its stated goals were not exactly "temporary."
Gustav Landauer's participation as Minister of Culture along
with Silvio Gesell as Minister of Economics and other anti-
authoritarian and extreme libertarian socialists such as the
poet/playwrights Erich M hsam and Ernst Toller, and Ret
Marut (the novelist B. Traven), gave the Soviet a distinct
anarchist flavor. Landauer, who had spent years of isolation
working on his grand synthesis of Nietzsche, Proudhon,
Kropotkin, Stirner, Meister Eckhardt, the radical mystics,
and the Romantic _volk_-philosophers, knew from the start
that the Soviet was doomed; he hoped only that it would last
long enough to be _understood_. Kurt Eisner, the martyred
founder of the Soviet, believed quite literally that poets
and poetry should form the basis of the revolution. Plans
were launched to devote a large piece of Bavaria to an
experiment in anarcho-socialist economy and community.
Landauer drew up proposals for a Free School system and a
People's Theater. Support for the Soviet was more or less
confined to the poorest working-class and bohemian
neighborhoods of Munich, and to groups like the Wandervogel
(the neo-Romantic youth movement), Jewish radicals (like
Buber), the Expressionists, and other marginals. Thus
historians dismiss it as the "Coffeehouse Republic" and
belittle its significance in comparison with Marxist and
Spartacist participation in Germany's post-War
revolution(s). Outmaneuvered by the Communists and
eventually murdered by soldiers under the influence of the
occult/fascist Thule Society, Landauer deserves to be
remembered as a saint. Yet even anarchists nowadays tend to
misunderstand and condemn him for "selling out" to a
"socialist government." If the Soviet had lasted even a
year, we would weep at the mention of its beauty--but before
even the first flowers of that Spring had wilted, the
_geist_ and the spirit of poetry were crushed, and we have
forgotten. Imagine what it must have been to breathe the air
of a city in which the Minister of Culture has just
predicted that schoolchildren will soon be memorizing the
works of Walt Whitman. Ah for a time machine...

The Will to Power as Disappearance

FOUCAULT, BAUDRILLARD, _ET_AL_. have discussed various modes
of "disappearance" at great length. Here I wish to suggest
that the TAZ is in some sense a _tactic_of_disappearance_.
When the Theorists speak of the disappearance of the Social
they mean in part the impossibility of the "Social
Revolution," and in part the impossibility of "the State"--
the abyss of power, the end of the discourse of power. The
anarchist question in this case should then be: Why _bother_
to confront a "power" which has lost all meaning and become
sheer Simulation? Such confrontations will only result in
dangerous and ugly spasms of violence by the emptyheaded
shit-for-brains who've inherited the keys to all the
armories and prisons. (Perhaps this is a crude american
misunderstanding of sublime and subtle Franco-Germanic
Theory. If so, fine; whoever said _understanding_ was needed
to make use of an idea?)

As I read it, disappearance seems to be a very logical
radical option for our time, not at all a disaster or death
for the radical project. Unlike the morbid deathfreak
nihilistic interpretation of Theory, mine intends to _mine_
it for useful strategies in the always-ongoing "revolution
of everyday life": the struggle that cannot cease even with
the last failure of political or social revolution because
nothing except the end of the world can bring an end to
everyday life, nor to our aspirations for the _good_things_,
for the Marvelous. And as Nietzsche said, if the world
_could_ come to an end, logically it would have done so; it
has not, so it _does_not_. And so, as one of the sufis said,
no matter how many draughts of forbidden wine we drink, we
will carry this raging thirst into eternity.

Zerzan and Black have independently noted certain "elements
of Refusal" (Zerzan's term) which perhaps can be seen as
somehow symptomatic of a radical culture of disappearance,
partly unconscious but partly conscious, which influences
far more people than any leftist or anarchist _idea_. These
gestures are made _against_ institutions, and in that sense
are "negative"--but each negative gesture also suggests a
"positive" tactic to replace rather than merely refuse the
despised institution.

For example, the negative gesture against _schooling_ is
"voluntary illiteracy." Since I do not share the liberal
worship of literacy for the sake of social ameliorization, I
cannot quite share the gasps of dismay heard everywhere at
this phenomenon: I sympathize with children who refuse books
along with the garbage in the books. There are however
positive alternatives which make use of the same energy of
disappearance. Home-schooling and craft-apprenticeship, like
truancy, result in an absence from the prison of school.
Hacking is another form of "education" with certain features
of "invisibility."

A mass-scale negative gesture against politics consists
simply of not voting. "Apathy" (i.e. a healthy boredom with
the weary Spectacle) keeps over half the nation from the
polls; anarchism never accomplished as much! (Nor did
anarchism have anything to do with the failure of the recent
Census.) Again, there are positive parallels: "networking"
as an alternative to politics is practiced at many levels of
society, and non-hierarchic organization has attained
popularity even outside the anarchist movement, simply
because it _works_. (ACT UP and Earth First! are two
examples. Alcoholics Anonymous, oddly enough, is another.)

Refusal of _Work_ can take the forms of absenteeism, on-job
drunkenness, sabotage, and sheer inattention--but it can
also give rise to new modes of rebellion: more self-
employment, participation in the "black" economy and
"_lavoro_nero_," welfare scams and other criminal options,
pot farming, etc.--all more or less "invisible" activities
compared to traditional leftist confrontational tactics such
as the general strike.

Refusal of the _Church_? Well, the "negative gesture" here
probably consists of...watching television. But the positive
alternatives include all sorts of non-authoritarian forms of
spirituality, from "unchurched" Christianity to neo-
paganism. The "Free Religions" as I like to call them--
small, self-created, half-serious/half-fun cults influenced
by such currents as Discordianism and anarcho-Taoism--are to
be found all over marginal America, and provide a growing
"fourth way" outside the mainstream churches, the
televangelical bigots, and New Age vapidity and consumerism.
It might also be said that the chief refusal of orthodoxy
consists of the construction of "private moralities" in the
Nietzschean sense: the spirituality of "free spirits."

The negative refusal of _Home_ is "homelessness," which most
consider a form of victimization, not wishing to be _forced_
into nomadology. But "homelessness" can in a sense be a
virtue, an adventure--so it appears, at least, to the huge
international movement of the squatters, our modern hobos.

The negative refusal of the _Family_ is clearly divorce, or
some other symptom of "breakdown." The positive alternative
springs from the realization that life can be happier
without the nuclear family, whereupon a hundred flowers
bloom--from single parentage to group marriage to erotic
affinity group. The "European Project" fights a major
rearguard action in defense of "Family"--oedipal misery lies
at the heart of Control. Alternatives exist--but they must
remain in hiding, especially since the War against Sex of
the 1980's and 1990's.

What is the refusal of _Art_? The "negative gesture" is not
to be found in the silly nihilism of an "Art Strike" or the
defacing of some famous painting--it is to be seen in the
almost universal glassy-eyed boredom that creeps over most
people at the very mention of the word. But what would the
"positive gesture" consist of? Is it possible to imagine an
aesthetics that does not _engage_, that removes itself from
History and even from the Market? or at least _tends_ to do
so? which wants to replace representation with _presence_?
How does presence make itself felt even in (or through)
representation?

"Chaos Linguistics" traces a presence which is continually
disappearing from all orderings of language and meaning-
systems; an elusive presence, evanescent, _latif_ ("subtle,"
a term in sufi alchemy)--the Strange Attractor around which
memes accrue, chaotically forming new and spontaneous
orders. Here we have an aesthetics of the borderland between
chaos and order, the margin, the area of "catastrophe" where
the breakdown of the system can equal enlightenment. (Note:
for an explanation of "Chaos Linguistics" see Appendix A,
then please read this paragraph again.)

The disappearance of the artist IS "the suppression and
realization of art," in Situationist terms. But from where
do we vanish? And are we ever seen or heard of again? We go
to Croatan--what's our fate? All our art consists of a
goodbye note to history--"Gone To Croatan"--but where is it,
and what will we _do_ there?

First: We're not talking here about literally vanishing from
the world and its future:--no escape backward in time to
paleolithic "original leisure society"--no forever utopia,
no backmountain hideaway, no island; also, no post-
Revolutionary utopia--most likely no Revolution at all!--
also, no VONU, no anarchist Space Stations--nor do we accept
a "Baudrillardian disappearance" into the silence of an
ironic hyperconformity. I have no quarrel with any Rimbauds
who escape Art for whatever Abyssinia they can find. But we
can't build an aesthetics, even an aesthetics of
disappearance, on the simple act of _never_coming_back_. By
saying we're not an avant-garde and that there is no avant-
garde, we've written our "Gone To Croatan"--the question
then becomes, how to envision "everyday life" in Croatan?
particularly if we cannot say that Croatan exists in Time
(Stone Age or Post-Revolution) or Space, either as utopia or
as some forgotten midwestern town or as Abyssinia? Where and
when is the world of unmediated creativity? If it _can_
exist, it _does_ exist--but perhaps only as a sort of
alternate reality which we so far have not learned to
perceive. Where would we look for the seeds--the weeds
cracking through our sidewalks--from this other world into
our world? the clues, the right directions for searching? a
finger pointing at the moon?

I believe, or would at least like to propose, that the only
solution to the "suppression and realization" of Art lies in
the emergence of the TAZ. I would strongly reject the
criticism that the TAZ itself is "nothing but" a work of
art, although it may have some of the trappings. I do
suggest that the TAZ is the only possible "time" and "place"
for art to happen for the sheer pleasure of creative play,
and as an actual contribution to the forces which allow the
TAZ to cohere and manifest.

Art in the World of Art has become a commodity; but deeper
than that lies the problem of _re-presentation_ itself, and
the refusal of all _mediation_. In the TAZ art as a
commodity will simply become impossible; it will instead be
a condition of life. Mediation is harder to overcome, but
the removal of all barriers between artists and "users" of
art will tend toward a condition in which (as A.K.
Coomaraswamy described it) "the artist is not a special sort
of person, but every person is a special sort of artist."

In sum: disappearance is not necessarily a "catastrophe"--
except in the mathematical sense of "a sudden topological
change." All the _positive_gestures_ sketched here seem to
involve various degrees of invisibility rather than
traditional revolutionary confrontation. The "New Left"
never really believed in its own existence till it saw
itself on the Evening News. The New Autonomy, by contrast,
will either infiltrate the media and subvert "it" from
within--or else never be "seen" at all. The TAZ exists not
only beyond Control but also beyond definition, beyond
gazing and naming as acts of enslaving, beyond the
understanding of the State, beyond the State's ability to
_see_.

Ratholes in the Babylon of Information

THE TAZ AS A CONSCIOUS radical tactic will emerge under
certain conditions:

1. Psychological liberation. That is, we must realize (make
real) the moments and spaces in which freedom is not only
possible but _actual_. We must know in what ways we are
genuinely oppressed, and also in what ways we are self-
repressed or ensnared in a fantasy in which _ideas_ oppress
us. WORK, for example, is a far more actual source of misery
for most of us than legislative politics. Alienation is far
more dangerous for us than toothless outdated dying
ideologies. Mental addiction to "ideals"--which in fact turn
out to be mere projections of our resentment and sensations
of victimization--will never further our project. The TAZ is
not a harbinger of some pie-in-the-sky Social Utopia to
which we must sacrifice our lives that our children's
children may breathe a bit of free air. The TAZ must be the
scene of our present autonomy, but it can only exist on the
condition that we already know ourselves as free beings.

2. The _counter-Net_ must expand. At present it reflects
more abstraction than actuality. Zines and BBSs exchange
information, which is part of the necessary groundwork of
the TAZ, but very little of this information relates to
concrete goods and services necessary for the autonomous
life. We do not live in CyberSpace; to dream that we do is
to fall into CyberGnosis, the false transcendence of the
body. The TAZ is a physical place and we are either in it or
not. All the senses must be involved. The Web is like a new
sense in some ways, but it must be _added_ to the others--
the others must not be subtracted from it, as in some
horrible parody of the mystic trance. Without the Web, the
full realization of the TAZ-complex would be impossible. But
the Web is not the end in itself. It's a weapon.

3. The apparatus of Control--the "State"--must (or so we
must assume) continue to deliquesce and petrify
simultaneously, must progress on its present course in which
hysterical rigidity comes more and more to mask a vacuity,
an abyss of power. As power "disappears," our will to power
must be disappearance.

We've already dealt with the question of whether the TAZ can
be viewed "merely" as a work of art. But you will also
demand to know whether it is more than a poor rat-hole in
the Babylon of Information, or rather a maze of tunnels,
more and more connected, but devoted only to the economic
dead-end of piratical parasitism? I'll answer that I'd
rather be a rat in the wall than a rat in the cage--but I'll
also insist that the TAZ transcends these categories.

A world in which the TAZ succeeded in _putting_down_roots_
might resemble the world envisioned by "P.M." in his fantasy
novel _bolo'bolo_. Perhaps the TAZ is a "proto-bolo." But
inasmuch as the TAZ exists _now_, it stands for much more
than the mundanity of negativity or countercultural drop-out-
ism. We've mentioned the _festal_ aspect of the moment which
is unControlled, and which adheres in spontaneous self-
ordering, however brief. It is "epiphanic"--a peak
experience on the social as well as individual scale.

Liberation is realized _in_ struggle--this is the essence of
Nietzsche's "self-overcoming." The present thesis might also
take for a sign Nietzsche's _wandering_. It is the precursor
of the _drift_, in the Situ sense of the _derive_ and
Lyotard's definition of _driftwork_. We can foresee a whole
new geography, a kind of pilgrimage-map in which holy sites
are replaced by peak experiences and TAZs: a _real_ science
of psychotopography, perhaps to be called "geo-autonomy" or
"anarchomancy."

The TAZ involves a kind of _ferality_, a growth from
tameness to wild(er)ness, a "return" which is also a step
forward. It also demands a "yoga" of chaos, a project of
"higher" orderings (of consciousness or simply of life)
which are approached by "surfing the wave-front of chaos,"
of complex dynamism. The TAZ is an art of life in continual
rising up, wild but gentle--a seducer not a rapist, a
smuggler rather than a bloody pirate, a dancer not an
eschatologist.

Let us admit that we have attended parties where for one
brief night a republic of gratified desires was attained.
Shall we not confess that the politics of that night have
more reality and force for us than those of, say, the entire
U.S. Government? Some of the "parties" we've mentioned
lasted for two or three _years_. Is this something worth
imagining, worth fighting for? Let us study invisibility,
webworking, psychic nomadism--and who knows what we might
attain?

--Spring Equinox, 1990

Appendix A. Chaos Linguistics

NOT YET A SCIENCE but a proposition: That certain problems
in linguistics might be solved by viewing language as a
complex dynamical system or "Chaos field."

Of all the responses to Saussure's linguistics, two have
special interest here: the first, "antilinguistics," can be
traced--in the modern period--from Rimbaud's departure for
Abyssinia; to Nietzsche's "I fear that while we still have
grammar we have not yet killed God"; to dada; to Korzybski's
"the Map is not the Territory"; to Burroughs' cut-ups and
"breakthrough in the Gray Room"; to Zerzan's attack on
language itself as representation and mediation.

The second, Chomskyan Linguistics, with its belief in
"universal grammar" and its tree diagrams, represents (I
believe) an attempt to "save" language by discovering
"hidden invariables," much in the same way certain
scientists are trying to "save" physics from the
"irrationality" of quantum mechanics. Although as an
anarchist Chomsky might have been expected to side with the
nihilists, in fact his beautiful theory has more in common
with platonism or sufism than with anarchism. Traditional
metaphysics describes language as pure light shining through
the colored glass of the archetypes; Chomsky speaks of
"innate" grammars. Words are leaves, branches are sentences,
mother tongues are limbs, language families are trunks, and
the roots are in "heaven"...or the DNA. I call this
"hermetalinguistics"--hermetic and metaphysical. Nihilism
(or "HeavyMetalinguistics" in honor of Burroughs) seems to
me to have brought language to a dead end and threatened to
render it "impossible" (a great feat, but a depressing one)-
-while Chomsky holds out the promise and hope of a last-
minute revelation, which I find equally difficult to accept.
I too would like to "save" language, but without recourse to
any "Spooks," or supposed rules about God, dice, and the
Universe.

Returning to Saussure, and his posthumously published notes
on anagrams in Latin poetry, we find certain hints of a
process which somehow escapes the sign/signifier dynamic.
Saussure was confronted with the suggestion of some sort of
"meta"-linguistics which happens _within_ language rather
than being imposed as a categorical imperative from
"outside." As soon as language begins to play, as in the
acrostic poems he examined, it seems to resonate with self-
amplifying complexity. Saussure tried to quantify the
anagrams but his figures kept running away from him (as if
perhaps nonlinear equations were involved). Also, he began
to find the anagrams _everywhere_, even in Latin prose. He
began to wonder if he were hallucinating--or if anagrams
were a natural unconscious process of _parole_. He abandoned
the project.

I wonder: if enough of this sort of data were crunched
through a computer, would we begin to be able to model
language in terms of complex dynamical systems? Grammars
then would not be "innate," but would emerge from chaos as
spontaneously evolving "higher orders," in Prigogine's sense
of "creative evolution." Grammars could be thought of as
"Strange Attractors," like the hidden pattern which "caused"
the anagrams--patterns which are "real" but have "existence"
only in terms of the sub-patterns they manifest. If
_meaning_ is elusive, perhaps it is because consciousness
itself, and therefore language, is _fractal_.

I find this theory more satisfyingly anarchistic than either
anti-linguistics or Chomskyanism. It suggests that language
can overcome representation and mediation, not because it is
innate, but _because_it_is_chaos_. It would suggest that all
dadaistic experimentation (Feyerabend described his school
of scientific epistemology as "anarchist dada") in sound
poetry, gesture, cut-up, beast languages, etc.--all this was
aimed neither at discovering nor destroying meaning, but at
_creating_ it. Nihilism points out gloomily that language
"arbitrarily" creates meaning. Chaos Linguistics happily
agrees, but adds that language can overcome language, that
language can create freedom out of semantic tyranny's
confusion and decay.

Appendix B. Applied Hedonics

THE BONNOT GANG WERE vegetarians and drank only water. They
came to a bad (tho' picturesque) end. Vegetables and water,
in themselves excellent things--pure zen really--shouldn't
be consumed as martyrdom but as an epiphany. Self-denial as
radical praxis, the Leveller impulse, tastes of millenarian
gloom--and this current on the Left shares an historical
wellspring with the neo-puritan fundamentalism and moralic
reaction of our decade. The New Ascesis, whether practiced
by anorexic health-cranks, thin-lipped police sociologists,
downtown straight-edge nihilists, cornpone fascist baptists,
socialist torpedoes, drug-free Republicans...in every case
the motive force is the same: _resentment_.

In the face of contemporary pecksniffian anaesthesia we'll
erect a whole gallery of forebears, heros who carried on the
struggle against bad consciousness but still knew how to
party, a genial gene pool, a rare and difficult category to
define, great minds not just for Truth but for the
_truth_of_pleasure_, serious but not sober, whose sunny
disposition makes them not sluggish but sharp, brilliant but
not tormented. Imagine a Nietzsche with good digestion. Not
the tepid Epicureans nor the bloated Sybarites. Sort of a
spiritual hedonism, an actual Path of Pleasure, vision of a
good life which is both noble and _possible_, rooted in a
sense of the magnificent over-abundance of reality.

Shaykh Abu Sa'id of Khorassan
Charles Fourier
Brillat-Savarin
Rabelais
Abu Nuwas
Aga Khan III
R. Vaneigem
Oscar Wilde
Omar Khayyam
Sir Richard Burton
Emma Goldman
add your own favorites

Appendix C. Extra Quotes

As for us, He has appointed the job of permanent
unemployment.
If he wanted us to work, after all,
He would not have created this _wine_.
With a skinfull of _this_, Sir,
would you rush out to commit economics?

--Jalaloddin Rumi, _Diwan-e_Shams_

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A flask of Wine, A Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears--
_Tomorrow_?--Why, Tomorrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

--Omar FitzGerald

History, materialism, monism, positivism, and all the "isms"
of this world are old and rusty tools which I don't need or
mind anymore. My principle is life, my end is death. I wish
to live my life intensely for to embrace my life tragically.

You are waiting for the revolution? My own began a long time
ago! When you will be ready (God, what an endless wait!) I
won't mind going along with you for awhile. But when you'll
stop, I shall continue on my insane and triumphal way toward
the great and sublime conquest of the nothing!
Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside
the limits of any society the unruly and heroic tramps will
wander, with their wild & virgin thoughts--they who cannot
live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of
rebellion!

I shall be among them!

And after me, as before me, there will be those saying to
their fellows: "So turn to yourselves rather than to your
Gods or to your idols. Find what hides in yourselves; bring
it to light; show yourselves!"

Because every person; who, searching his own inwardness,
extracts what was mysteriously hidden therein; is a shadow
eclipsing any form of society which can exist under the sun!
All societies tremble when the scornful aristocracy of the
tramps, the inaccessibles, the uniques, the rulers over the
ideal, and the conquerors of the nothing resolutely
advances.
So, come on iconoclasts, forward!

"Already the foreboding sky grows dark and silent!"

--Renzo Novatore
Arcola, January, 1920

PIRATE RANT

Captain Bellamy

Daniel Defoe, writing under the pen name Captain Charles
Johnson, wrote what became the first standard historical
text on pirates, _A_General_History_of_the_Robberies_and_
Murders_of_the_Most_Notorious_Pirates_. According to Patrick
Pringle's _Jolly_Roger_, pirate recruitment was most
effective among the unemployed, escaped bondsmen, and
transported criminals. The high seas made for an
instantaneous levelling of class inequalities. Defoe relates
that a pirate named Captain Bellamy made this speech to the
captain of a merchant vessel he had taken as a prize. The
captain of the merchant vessel had just declined an
invitation to join the pirates.

I am sorry they won't let you have your sloop again, for I
scorn to do any one a mischief, when it is not to my
advantage; damn the sloop, we must sink her, and she might
be of use to you. Though you are a sneaking puppy, and so
are all those who will submit to be governed by laws which
rich men have made for their own security; for the cowardly
whelps have not the courage otherwise to defend what they
get by knavery; but damn ye altogether: damn them for a pack
of crafty rascals, and you, who serve them, for a parcel of
hen-hearted numbskulls. They vilify us, the scoundrels do,
when there is only this difference, they rob the poor under
the cover of law, forsooth, and we plunder the rich under
the protection of our own courage. Had you not better make
then one of us, than sneak after these villains for
employment?

When the captain replied that his conscience would not let
him break the laws of God and man, the pirate Bellamy
continued:

You are a devilish conscience rascal, I am a free prince,
and I have as much authority to make war on the whole world,
as he who has a hundred sail of ships at sea, and an army of
100,000 men in the field; and this my conscience tells me:
but there is no arguing with such snivelling puppies, who
allow superiors to kick them about deck at pleasure.

THE DINNER PARTY

The highest type of human society in the existing social
order is found in the parlor. In the elegant and refined
reunions of the aristocratic classes there is none of the
impertinent interference of legislation. The Individuality
of each is fully admitted. Intercourse, therefore, is
perfectly free. Conversation is continuous, brilliant, and
varied. Groups are formed according to attraction. They are
continuously broken up, and re-formed through the operation
of the same subtile and all-pervading influence. Mutual
deference pervades all classes, and the most perfect
harmony, ever yet attained, in complex human relations,
prevails under precisely those circumstances which
Legislators and Statesmen dread as the conditions of
inevitable anarchy and confusion. If there are laws of
etiquette at all, they are mere suggestions of principles
admitted into and judged of for himself or herself, by each
individual mind.

Is it conceivable that in all the future progress of
humanity, with all the innumerable elements of development
which the present age is unfolding, society generally, and
in all its relations, will not attain as high a grade of
perfection as certain portions of society, in certain
special relations, have already attained?

Suppose the intercourse of the parlor to be regulated by
specific legislation. Let the time which each gentleman
shall be allowed to speak to each lady be fixed by law; the
position in which they should sit or stand be precisely
regulated; the subjects which they shall be allowed to speak
of, and the tone of voice and accompanying gestures with
which each may be treated, carefully defined, all under
pretext of preventing disorder and encroachment upon each
other's privileges and rights, then can any thing be
conceived better calculated or more certain to convert
social intercourse into intolerable slavery and hopeless
confusion?

--S. Pearl Andrews
_The Science of Society_

                                @

                       S P U N K  P R E S S

                       electronic publishing

                 <spunk-list-request@lysator.liu.se>

http://www.textfiles.com/survival/taz.txt