Deleuze+and+Guattari+Death+K

== Dark Vacuous K The human-race walks the eternal road, and as it would seem to die, it would actually live, simply mutating into a new form, _______________________.

Deleuze and Guattari in ’72 (Anti-Oedipus, 330-39)

But it seems that things are becoming very obscure, for what is this distinction between the experience of death and the model of death? Here again, is it a death desire? A being-far-death? Or rather an investment of death, even if speculative? None of the above. The experience of death is the most common of occurrences in the unconscious, precisely because it occurs in life and for life, in every passage or becoming, in every intensity as passage or becoming. It is in the very nature of every intensity to invest within itself the zero intensity starting from which it is produced, in one moment, as that which grows or diminishes according to an infinity of degrees (as Klossowski noted, "an afflux is necessary merely to signify the absence of intensity"). We have attempted to show in this respect how the relations of attraction and repulsion produced such states, sensations, and emotions, which imply a new energetic conversion and form the third kind of synthesis, the synthesis of conjunction. One might say that the unconscious as a real subject has scattered an apparent residual and nomadic subject around the entire compass of its cycle, a subject that passes by way of all the becomings corresponding to the included disjunctions: the last part of the desiring-machine, the adjacent part. These intense becomings and feelings, these intensive emotions, feed deliriums and hallucinations. But in themselves, these intensive emotions are closest to the matter whose zero degree they invest in itself. They control the unconscious experience of death, insofar as death is what is felt in every feeling, what never ceases and never finishes happening in every becoming-in the becoming-another-sex, the becoming-god, the becoming-a-race, etc., forming zones of intensity on the body without organs. Every intensity controls within its own life the experience of death, and envelops it. And it is doubtless the case that every intensity is extinguished at the end, that every becoming itself becomes a becoming-death! Death, then, does actually happen. Maurice Blanchot distinguishes this twofold nature dearly, these two irreducible aspects of death; the one, according to which the apparent subject never ceases to live and travel as a One·-"one never stops and never has done with dying"; and the other, according to which this same subject, fixed as I, actually dies-which is to say it finally ceases to die since it ends up dying, in the reality of a last instant that fixes it in this way as an I, all the while undoing the intensity, carrying it back to the zero that envelops it. From one aspect to the other, there is not at all a personal deepening, but something quite different: there is a return from the experience of death to the model of death, in the cycle of the desiring-machines. The cycle is closed. For a new departure, since this I is another? The experience of death must have given us exactly enough broadened experience, in order to live and know that the desiring-machines do not die. And that the subject as an adjacent part is always a "one" who conducts the experience, not an I who receives the model. For the model itself is not the I either, but the body without organs. And I does not rejoin the model without the model starting out again in the direction of another experience. Always going from the model to the experience, and starting out again, returning from the model to the experience, is what schizophrenizing death amounts to, the exercise of the desiring-machines (which is their very secret, well understood by the terrifying authors). The machines tell us this, and make us live it, feel it, deeper than delirium and further than hallucination: yes, the return to repulsion will condition other attractions, other functionings, the setting in motion of other working parts on the body without organs, the putting to work of other adjacent parts on the periphery that have as much a right to say One as we ourselves do. "Let him die in his leaping through unheard-of and unnamable things: other horrible workers will come; they will begin on the horizons where the other collapsed !"29 The Eternal Return as experience, and as the deterritorialized circuit of all the cycles of desire. How odd the psychoanalytic venture is. Psychoanalysis ought to be a song of life, or else be worth nothing at all. It ought, practically, to teach us to sing life. And see how the most defeated, sad .song of death emanates from it: eiapopeia. From the start, and because of his stubborn dualism of the drives, Freud never stopped trying to limit the discovery of a subjective or vital essence of desire as libido. But when the dualism passed into a death instinct against Eros, this was no longer a simple limitation, it was a liquidation of the libido. Reich did not go wrong here, and was perhaps the only one to maintain that the product of analysis should be a free and joyous person, a carrier of the life flows, capable of carrying them all the way into the desert and decoding them-even if this idea necessarily took on the appearance of a crazy idea, given what had become of analysis. He demonstrated that Freud, no less than lung and Adler, had repudiated the sexual position: the fixing of the death instinct in fact deprives sexuality of its generative role on at least one essential point, which is the genesis of anxiety, since this genesis becomes the autonomous cause of sexual repression instead of its result; it follows that sexuality as desire no longer animates a social critique of civilization, but that civilization on the contrary finds itself sanctified as the sale agency capable of opposing the death desire. And how. does. it do this? By in principle turning death against death, by making this turned-back death (la mort ret aurneev into a force of desire by putting it in the service of a pseudo life through an entire culture of guilt feeling. There is no need to tell all over how psychoanalysis culminates in a theory of culture that takes up again the age-old task of the ascetic ideal Nirvana, the cultural extract, judging life, belittling life, measuring life against death, and only retaining from life what the death of death wants very much to leave us with - a sublime resignation. As Reich says, when psychoanalysis began to speak of Eros, the whole world breathed a sigh of relief': one knew what this meant, and that everything was going to unfold within a mortified life, since Thanatos was now the partner of Eros, for worse but also for better. Psychoanalysis becomes the training ground of a new kind of priest, the director of bad conscience: bad conscience has made us sick, but that is what will cure us! Freud did not hide what was really at issue with the introduction of the death instinct: it is not a question of any fact whatever, but merely of a principle, a question of principle. The death instinct is pure silence, pure transcendence, not givable and not given in experience. This very point IS remarkable: It IS because death, according to Freud, has neither a model nor an experience, that he makes of it a transcendent principle."! So that the psychoanalysts who refused the death instinct did so for the same reasons as those who accepted it: some said that there was no death instinct since there was no model or experience in the unconscious; others, that there was a death instinct precisely because there was no model or experience. We say, to the contrary, that there is no death instinct because there is both the model and the experience of death in the unconscious. Death then is a part of the desiring-machine, a part that must itself be judged, evaluated in the functioning of the machine and the system of its energetic conversions, and not as an abstract principle. If Freud needs death as a principle, this is by virtue of the requirements of the dualism that maintains a qualitative opposition between the drives (you will not escape the conflict): once the dualism of the sexual drives and the ego drives has only a topological scope, the qualitative or dynamic dualism passes between Eros and Thanatos. But the same enterprise is continued and reinforced-eliminating the machinic element of desire, the desiring-machines. It is a matter of eliminating the libido, insofar as it implies the possibility of energetic conversions in the machine (Libido-Nurnen-Voluptas). It is a matter of imposing the idea of an energetic duality rendering the machinic transformations impossible, with everything obliged to pass by way of an indifferent neutral energy, that energy emanating from Oedipus and capable of being added to either of the two irreducible forms neutralizing, mortifying life.* The purpose of the topological and dynamic dualities is to thrust aside the point of view of functional multiplicity that alone is economic. (Szondi situates the problem clearly: why two kinds of drives qualified as molar, functioning mysteriously, which is to say Oedipally, rather than n genes of drives-eight molecular genes, for example-functioning machinically") If one looks in this direction for the ultimate reason why Freud erects a transcendent death instinct as a principle, the reason will be found in Freud's practice itself. For if the principle has nothing to do with the facts, it has a lot to do with the psychoanalyst's conception of psychoanalytic practice, a conception the psychoanalyst wishes to impose. Freud made the most profound discovery of the abstract subjective essence of desire-Libido. But since he re-alienated this essence, reinvesting it in a subjective system of representation of the ego, and since he receded this essence on the residual territoriality of Oedipus and under the despotic signifier of castration, he could no longer conceive the essence of life except in a form turned back against itself, in the form of death itself. And this neutralization, this turning against life, is also the last way in which a depressive and exhausted libido can go on surviving, and dream that it is surviving: "The ascetic ideal is an artifice for the preservation of life ... even when he wounds himself, this master of destruction, of self-destructing-the very wound itself compels him to live. . . ."32 It is Oedipus, the marshy earth, that gives off a powerful odor of decay and death; and it is castration, the pious ascetic wound, the signifier, that makes of this death a conservatory for the Oedipal life. Desire is in itself not a desire to love, but a force to love, a virtue that gives and produces, that engineers. (For how could what is in life still desire life? Who would want to call that a desire?) But desire must turn back against itself in the name of a horrible Ananke, the Ananke of the weak and the depressed, the contagious neurotic Ananke; desire must produce its shadow or its monkey, and find a strange artificial force for vegetating in the void, at the heart of its own Jack. For better days to come? It must-but who talks in this way? What abjectness-become a desire to be loved, and worse, a sniveling desire to have been loved, a desire that is reborn of its own frustration: no, daddy-mommy didn't love me enough. Sick desire stretches out on the couch, an artificial swamp, a little earth, a little mother. "Look at you, stumbling and staggering with no use in your legs .... And it's nothing but your wanting to be loved which does it. A maudlin crying to be loved, which makes your knees go all ricky."33 Just as there are two stomachs for the ruminant, there must also exist two abortions, two castrations for sick desire: once in the family, in the familial scene, with the knitting mother; another time in an asepticized clinic, in the psychoanalytic scene, with specialist artists who know how to handle the death instinct and "bring off" castration, "bring off" frustration. Is this really the right way to bring on better days? And aren't all the destructions performed by schizoanalysis worth more than this psychoanalytic conservatory, aren't they more a part of an affirmative task? "Lie down, then, on the soft couch which the analyst provides and try to think up something different ... if you realize that he is not a god but a human being like yourself, with worries, defects, ambitions, frailties, that he is not the repository of an all-encompassing wisdom [=code] but a wanderer, along the [deterritorialized] path, perhaps you will cease pouring it out like a sewer, however melodious it may sound to your ears, and rise up on your own two legs and sing with your own God-given voice [Numen]. To confess, to whine, to complain, to commiserate, always demands a toll. To sing it doesn't cost you a penny. Not only does it cost nothing-you actually enrich others (instead of infecting them) .... The phantasmal world is the world which has not been fully conquered over. It is the world of the past, never of the future. To move forward clinging to the past is like dragging a ball and chain.... We are all guilty of crime, the great crime of not living life to the full.' You weren't born Oedipus, you caused it to grow in yourself; and you aim to get out of it through fantasy, through castration, but this in turn you have caused to grow in Oedipus-namely, in yourself: the horrible circle. Shit on your whole mortifying, imaginary, and symbolic theater. What does schizoanalysis ask? Nothing more than a bit of a relation to the outside, a little real reality. And we claim the right to a radical laxity, a radical incompetence-the right to enter the analyst's office and say it smells bad there. It reeks of the great death and the little ego. Freud himself indeed spoke of the link between his "discovery" of the death instinct and World War I, which remains the model of capitalist war. More generally, the death instinct celebrates the wedding of psychoanalysis and capitalism; their engagement had been full of hesitation. What we have tried to show apropos of capitalism is how it inherited much from a transcendent death-carrying agency, the despotic signifier, but also how it brought about this agency's effusion in the full immanence of its own system: the full body, having become that of capital-money, suppresses the distinction between production and antiproduction; everywhere it mixes antiproduction with the productive forces in the immanent reproduction of its own always widened limits (the axiomatic). The death enterprise is one of the principal and specific forms of the absorption of surplus value in capitalism. It is this itinerary that psychoanalysis rediscovers and retraces with the death instinct: the death instinct is now only pure silence in its transcendent distinction from life, but it effuses all the more, throughout all the immanent combinations it forms with this same life. Absorbed, diffuse, immanent death is the condition formed by the signifier in capitalism, the empty locus that is everywhere displaced in order to block the schizophrenic escapes and place restraints on the flights. The only modern myth is the myth of zombies-mortified schizos, good for work, brought back to reason. In this sense the primitive and the barbarian, with their ways of coding death, are children in comparison to modern man and his axiomatic (so many unemployed are needed, so many deaths, the Algerian War doesn't kill more people than weekend automobile accidents. planned death in Bengal, etc.). Modern man "raves to a far greater extent. His delirium is a switchboard with thirteen telephones. He gives his orders to the world. He doesn't care for the ladies. He is brave, too. He is decorated like crazy. In man's game of chance the death instinct, the silent instinct is decidedly well placed, perhaps next to egoism. It takes the place of zero in roulette. The house always wins. So too does death. The law of large numbers works for death."35 It is now or never that we must take up a problem we had left hanging. Once it is said that capitalism works on the basis of decoded flows as such, how is it that it is infinitely further removed from desiring-production than were the primitive or even the barbarian systems, which nonetheless code and overcode the flows? Once it is said that desiring-production is itself a decoded and deterritorialized production, how do we explain that capitalism, with its axiomatic, its statistics, performs an infinitely vaster repression of this production than do the preceding regimes, which nonetheless did not lack the necessary repressive means? We have seen that the molar statistical aggregates of social production were in a variable relationship of affinity with the molecular formations of desiring-production. What must be explained is that the capitalist aggregate is the least affinal, at the very moment it decodes and deterritorializes with all its might. The answer is the death instinct, if we call instinct in general the conditions of life that are historically and socially determined by the relations of production and antiproduction in a system. We know that molar social production and molecular desiring-production must be evaluated both from the viewpoint of their identity in nature and from the viewpoint of their difference in regime. But it could be that these two aspects, nature and regime, are in a sense potential and are actualized only in inverse proportion. Which means that where the regimes are the closest, the identity in nature is on the contrary at its minimum; and where the identity in nature appears to be at its maximum, the regimes differ to the highest degree. If we examine the primitive or the barbarian constellations, we see that the subjective essence of desire as production is referred to large objectities, to the territorial or the despotic body, which act as natural or divine preconditions that thus ensure the coding or the overcoding of the flows of desire by introducing them into systems of representation that are themselves objective. Hence it can be said that the identity in nature between the two productions is completely hidden there: as much by the difference between the objective socius and the subjective full body of desiring-production, as by the difference between the qualified codes and overcodings of social production and the chains of decoding or of deterritorialization belonging to desiring production, and by the entire repressive apparatus represented in the savage prohibitions, the barbarian law, and the rights of anti-production. And yet the difference in regime, far from being accentuated and deepened, is on the contrary reduced to a minimum, because desiring production as an absolute limit remains an exterior limit, or else stays unoccupied as an internalized and displaced limit, with the result that the machines of desire operate on this side of their limit within the framework of the socius and its codes. That is why the primitive codes and even the despotic overcodings testify to a polyvocity that functionally draws them nearer to a chain of decoding of desire: the parts of the desiring-machine function in the very workings of the social machine; the flows of desire enter and exit through the codes that continue, however, to inform the model and experience of death that are elaborated in the unity of the socio-desiring-apparatus. And it is even less a question of the death instinct to the extent that the model and the experience are better coded in a circuit that never stops grafting the desiring-machines onto the social machine and implanting the social machine in the desiring-machines. Death comes all the more from without as it is coded from within. This is especially true of the system of cruelty, where death is inscribed in the primitive mechanism of surplus value as well as in the movement of the finite blocks of debt. But even in the system of despotic terror, where debt becomes infinite and where death experiences an elevation that tends to make of it a latent instinct, there nonetheless subsists a model in the overcoding law, and an experience for the overcoded subjects, at the same time as anti-production remains separate as the share owing to the overlord. Things are very different in capitalism. Precisely because the flows of capital are decoded and deterritorialized flows; precisely because the subjective essence of production is revealed in capitalism; precisely because the limit becomes internal to capitalism, which continually reproduces it, and also continually occupies it as an internalized and displaced limit; precisely for these reasons, the identity in nature must appear for itself between social production and desiring-production. But in its turn, this identity in nature, far from favoring an affinity in regime between the two modes of production, increases the difference in regime in a catastrophic fashion, and assembles an apparatus of repression the mere idea of which neither savagery nor barbarism could provide us. This is because, on the basis of a general collapse of the large objectities, the decoded and de territorialized flows of capitalism are not recaptured or co-opted, but directly apprehended in a codeless axiomatic that consigns them to the universe of subjective representation. Now this universe has as its function the splitting of the subjective essence (the identity in nature) into two functions, that of abstract labor alienated in private property that reproduces the ever wider interior limits, and that of abstract desire alienated in the privatized family that displaces the ever narrower internalized limits. The double alienation-s-labordesire- is constantly increasing and deepening the difference in regime at the heart of the identity in nature. At the same time that death is decoded, it loses its relationship with a model and an experience, and becomes an instinct; that is, it effuses in the immanent system where each act of production is inextricably linked to the process of anti production as capital. There where the codes are undone, the death instinct lays hold of the repressive apparatus and begins to direct the circulation of the libido. A mortuary axiomatic. One might then believe in liberated desires, but ones that, like cadavers, feed on images. Death is not desired, but what is desired is dead, already dead: images. Everything labors in death, everything wishes for death. In truth, capitalism has nothing to co-opt; or rather, its powers of co-option coexist more often than not with what is to be co-opted, and even anticipate it. (How many revolutionary groups as such are already in place for a co-option that will be carried out only in the future, and form an apparatus for the absorption of a surplus value not even produced yet-which gives them precisely an apparent revolutionary position.) In a world such as this, there is no living desire that could not of itself cause the system to explode, or that would not make the system dissolve at one end where everything would end up following behind and being swallowed up-a question of regime.


 * Alternative: Embrace the 1ac impacts.**

Aima in ‘9 (Rahel, Columbia University, //in the beginning was the language, and the language was gravity//, April 13, 2009, http://killingdenouement.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/in-the-beginning-was-the-language-and-the-language-was-gravity/#comments)
 * Entropy will consume the universe. The only way to give value to our lives is through injecting creativity into the world through dwelling on catastrophe, we let it speak through us. Our criticism should literally be judged on the level of a new god, this time it’s within all of us. The affirmatives attempts at crystallization of ontology into action creates lines of control and webs of power that guide us through the world, our thoughts and actions become quantifiable, like math, and we all are turned into numbers on a computer.**

In the beginning was the language, and the language was gravity. Before the beginning was infinite violence. When violence met language, there was conflict; at once collision and collusion. Conflict became a reproductive space of exchange, and atomisation became the original sin. We learnt what evil was, and it was the One. Gravity meanwhile was inscribed into (celestial) bodies, becoming the first legal contract between them. So it is that particles collide to produce fragmented planets and people, in an exchange of violent energy. Humans similarly collide to exchange pleasantries, and sometimes bodily fluids. On the level of language, morphemes collide to exchange ejaculations of speed and to reproduce meaning. In the eighteenth century, these forms might have been approached through money, character and root. Yet this beginning is simply the beginning of the rational, instinctual Man-form, and its subsequent trajectory through time and space. Following Nietzsche, the universe itself is a monster of energy without beginning, without end, not expanding but constantly transforming, in an infinite play of forces, and waves of forces which work like concepts to create embodied affects. Violence is this monstrous energy. The universe is like the Hindu Trimurti, a compound form of the eternally self creating Brahma, the mediating preserver, Vishnu, and the eternally self destroying Shiva. It may otherwise be thought of in terms of the tripartite symbol of Aum, whose three letters represent the primordial vibration of the universe. Each letter corresponds to a state of existence, from the lower curve’s waking consciousness to the dream state’s suspended consciousness to the upper curve’s unconsciousness or deep sleep – A-U-M respectively. The spot meanwhile is the absolute consciousness that hovers over the semicircle of the maya, sometimes conceived as the illusion of duality. As humans we exist in this illusory fold of maya, which both preserves and reproduces our world through conflict. Unlike the equivalent violence, the spot does not collide with the other cosmic forces. And although illustrative, the symbol is no longer experienced in the absolute: matereality has killed it along with the gods. Our own material world is like an atomised pomegran(i)te, and we exist as six billion unitary seeds in it, bounded by State membranes. At its core is a well of viscous rage; as with the Spanish term for pomegranate, granada, it holds explosive potential. Like the pomegranate, it is in constant tension of cracking open, as tec(h)tonic plates and demographics create frictions and fictions alike. This world is fragile and Earth is a victim; sometimes it fights back through ‘natural’ disasters like earthquakes and volcanic eruptions that reveal its innermost violent urges. Global war-ming may be seen as the most advanced stage of this struggle, fought not only through the Earth’s material fabric, but through the atmosphere itself. As humans within this world, we may meanwhile either ossify into institutions, or decompose into death, after which nothing happens. Bataille suggests, “the world is purely parodic, in other words, that each thing seen is the parody of another, or is the same thing in a deceptive form”. Even as air is the atmospheric parody of water, human is the atmospheric parody of animal, and sexual desire is the instinctual parody of violence. War then becomes a parody of the initial monstrous violence, now evaporated into the atmosphere. And as humans, we ourselves are war. This sphere of war looks to have a maximal surface area, not unlike the cortex of the brain, replete with striated folds of ‘peace’. The State inseminates this sphere through the language of legality, similarly parodying violence through its own appropriations of war and peace. In military terminology, it is the ‘theatre of conflict’ where violence once again meets language, and is at once both a performative stage and a gynecological operating theatre. The language of war thus becomes an almost viral vaccination. It infects humans to breed cultures of conflict that create microfascisms and affects of dis-ease. At the same time, it retains a seductive possibility to inflame the mass tissue, and to consume the organs of both the State and the human. Crucially, “the body without organs is not a dead body but a living body all the more alive and teeming once it has blown apart the organism and its organisation”. How then can we die without dying, and repopulate our bodies with multiplicities without recapitating God? Perhaps we can redesignate our instinctual procedures of satisfaction, transforming them into the disorganised forms of ‘ex-tincts’ and ‘ex-titutions’. The ex-titution will work as an intensified multiplicity of pores, spots and black holes, bounded not by walls or language, but by permeable membranes which replace collision with a free flow of concepts. Ex-tincts will become these hypergravitational black holes, dissolving any boundaries between internal and external forces to return to the initial violence. We will ourselves become constellations of ex-titutions through the parodic instinct closest to the base violence: desire. For as Deleuze and Guattari suggest, “whenever someone makes love, really makes love, that person constitutes a body without organs, alone and with the other person or people”. Yet ours is a world that cannot be loved to the point of death. If, following Larkin, all life is slow dying (decaying), then we must necessarily look to the language of disaster to speed up the process. Indeed, the disaster “does not dissuade us from dying; it invites us – escaping the time where it is always too late – to endure inopportune death, with no relation to anything save the disaster as return”. The disaster is a rhizomatic Superfold where “literature merely turns back on itself in an endless reflexivity” to uncover a “strange language within language”. Duende is this knowledge of disaster, as seeded through creative production. Perhaps it will even herald Nietzsche’s eternal return to the pre-primordial violence. We are bookended by the disaster – as long as it functions, the human does not yet, and anymore, exist. How then can we initiate the disaster; how can we move beyond the form of the man to become the superman? How, essentially, can we be beings without being ‘human beings’? In discussing ‘the pack’, Canetti notes that the unitary Man-form came about through incorporating “into himself, by transformations, all the animals he knew”. The more perfect his parodic folding was, the intenser his awareness of their numbers, and he felt what it was to be many. If man thus symbolically imprisons life in this way, the superman must work to free life, perhaps by radically redistributing its organs as a first step towards becoming an intensified ex-titution. The superman is indeed in control of all resources, whether organic, animal or mineral. In the realm of forces, it is even “in charge of the being of language (that formless, mute, unsignifying region where language can find its freedom even from whatever it has to say”. We have in actuality already dressed up as superman in the past, building fascist concentration camps that annihilate the human through the denial of speech. Within fascism, the theatre of conflict becomes a theatre of dominance, creating a cycle where ownership is possession is destruction. It is underwritten by a singular force of control – to dominate a woman, army, or land becomes one and the same consumptive action. Yet this control is not only external, but becomes inscribed into the fascist to reorder both instincts and organs through ritualistic repetition. It is especially seen in Theweleit’s accounts of the Freikorps, where sexual desire is reassigned to function simply for the pure joy of violent destruction. The telos of domination thus becomes not reproductive exchange, but a rationalized orgiastic annihilation. Fascinatingly, even as the prohibitive layers of language and amnesia are sloughed off to reveal the inner pool of violence, the Freikorps find themselves almost silenced by their violent acts. So it is that one of them is found to compare the undressing of a woman to getting a shot in the lungs. What might have been a loss of breath is literalised in their writing as an imagined self destruction. Perhaps they heed Blanchot’s caution that “it is not you who will speak; let the disaster speak in you, even if it be by your forgetfulness or silence. Yet if superman is a fascist, we must kill him too. And if brutal inhumanity is not enough, what lies beyond superman? This is to say, what new form will emerge that is neither God nor man nor superman? Concentration camps might the closest that western civilization has come to dehumanisation through language. Atomic bombs meanwhile might be the closest it has come to total destruction. One day a graviton bomb might be built that will destroy language by folding it in on itself. Until then, however, there will be “no explosion except a book”, whose only critique can be “an ontology for the annihilation of human beings”. This ‘book’ need not necessarily be a printed and bound book, but may be any kind of creative bomb. It must however hold plasmatic potential as conceptualised by Sergei Eisenstein, in its “rejection of once-and-forever allotted form, freedom from ossification, the ability to dynamically assume any form”. Eisenstein sees this ‘plasmaticness’ as best embodied within fire, with its constant reinvention, expenditure and colourful consumption of forms. Crucially, fire is even eroticized in its mysterious allure and attractiveness which served to lead to a onetime designation of pyromania as a crime of a sexual nature. Yet like fascistic acts, it is consumptive and needs a constant refueling. The new bomb will burn not on the carbon of lifeforms or the silicon of dying stars, but will instead dip into an inner well of violence to write with both lactic acid and duende. At the same time, it must necessarily be outside State appropriation to become unconsumable. It must function like Disney’s films, which, for Eistensten, do not expose sunspots, but “themselves act like reflections of sunrays and spots across the screen of the earth”. These spots might be thought of as ex-tincts, and the screen as the disorganised face of the intensified ex-titution that we will become. This creative bomb will serve as the final weapon to cut –or perhaps blow – off superman’s rationalising head to become becoming itself, in the ex-titution of Bataille’s Acéphale. For in escaping from its head, “(s)he has found beyond himself not God, who is the prohibition against crime, but a being who is unaware of prohibition’. The Acéphale thus breaks the dualistic confines of the illusory maya to become part of the universal Trimurti multiplicity. (S)he is, “in the same eruption Birth and Death. (S)he is not a man. (S)he is not a god either. (S)he is not me but (s)he is more than me”. We are ferociously religious and religiously ferocious, and discover ourselves in him, “in other words as a monster”. When human we exist in relation to everything else through the forces of gravity and language, but having escaped from this primordial prison, we are finally irrational, ex-tinctual and free.