if I wish to surrender myself to pleasure, the delight of the body and the Pleasure Platform awaits me with the same carelessness. I want to hang from its walls, I want ot see the stars, I want to fuck, I wan to to kiss. My fingers, my hands, my tongue, my eyes, my nose, all at the same time they crave every smell, every image, every texture and every sound they can intake.
The return of the repressed
An unthinkable – with no name – Thing.
This thing is specified by something else. It would be inconceivably to say that we are referring to a natural concept without signs of social construction.
If the moral and the immoral are inseparable, or with Zizek's words “the unthinkable content of the the Law of Ethics in its purest form is the “devilish evil””, then the Thing transformes itself, changes form, evolves and meanders through eh roots of modern society. It slithers beside us, walks the road of sin and violation of the sanctity of existence and with an amoralist nihilism it reminds us constantly of the pettiness of our propriety, the deep roots of our alienatεd existence, but maybe also the charm, the intensity and the ecstasy that our flesh withholds, our naked existence. It constitutes the socially, religiously, legally, morally and existentially worst version of our self, our very own monster which, when turning our back on it and calling it waste matter – pushing it to the most hidden places of our psyche - , grows angrier by the minute and constantly searches for a way out, a hole through which he can reach the surface and sluice out.
From the post-modern subject to the hyper-modern zombie.
We never reach satisfaction. We search for different objects and situations of satisfaction, we multiply them, alter them and therefore create the “hyper-real”. A real structured on the fragmentation and the simulation of our experiences and needs.
The hyper-modern zombie is alone, it doesn't develop relations, it walks around – thoughtless- through the masses with only one purpose: to find its consumer product, human flesh. It is the reflection
of a Real that has become the victim of cultural interpretation.
We could say that the zombie is a Freudian uncanny. An externally unknown but internally very known indeed. It is an image of our self, an innerness in a decadent state, however free from any materiality that might have defined it. A zombies body is exactly like ours, only it isn't quite. It isn't a shell of our existence. It is a non-body, with holes, burns and cuts, bites and scratches. Exposed to the worst circumstances, it does not get affected by any of them. It is a machine looking for its victim and at the same time a “defense” mechanism to the “healthy” and “pretty” society, a society of gyms, of lipstick, of spectacle.
But what makes a zombie non-human? Not that it is “brain-dead”, but the fact that their mind lies outside the world of language. If our existence is specified my our entry intro language and its restrictions,, zombies are not capable of being “human”. They move only based on what there eyes and nose tells them, without seeking for satisfaction through the “other”. They experience only the pressure of there appetites, without having to deal with social restrictions. They wander forever, always captive of their one and only need: the delight of the flesh.
Creating a link in order to repair the discontinuity of life, zombie-ism is not like any known disease, but instead it is the representation of a disease, a disease caused by fear. The of the post-modern, of the apocalypse, of sin and desecration, fear of the Other. Through “infection”, “epidemic” and “pandemic”, the monstrous Thing hidden inside us surfaces. It appears as a amoralist existence with nothing holding it back. The terrible Real we lost with our entrance to the world of language resurfaces, explodes. The expulsion and oppression of our inner monster creates the inflation maximization of the repulsiveness and the rawness of its later course. It nothing more than an alternative version of our self, our very own Mr. Hyde.
We never reach satisfaction. We search for different objects and situations of satisfaction, we multiply them, alter them and therefore create the “hyper-real”. A real structured on the fragmentation and the simulation of our experiences and needs.
The hyper-modern zombie is alone, it doesn't develop relations, it walks around – thoughtless- through the masses with only one purpose: to find its consumer product, human flesh. It is the reflection
of a Real that has become the victim of cultural interpretation.
We could say that the zombie is a Freudian uncanny. An externally unknown but internally very known indeed. It is an image of our self, an innerness in a decadent state, however free from any materiality that might have defined it. A zombies body is exactly like ours, only it isn't quite. It isn't a shell of our existence. It is a non-body, with holes, burns and cuts, bites and scratches. Exposed to the worst circumstances, it does not get affected by any of them. It is a machine looking for its victim and at the same time a “defense” mechanism to the “healthy” and “pretty” society, a society of gyms, of lipstick, of spectacle.
But what makes a zombie non-human? Not that it is “brain-dead”, but the fact that their mind lies outside the world of language. If our existence is specified my our entry intro language and its restrictions,, zombies are not capable of being “human”. They move only based on what there eyes and nose tells them, without seeking for satisfaction through the “other”. They experience only the pressure of there appetites, without having to deal with social restrictions. They wander forever, always captive of their one and only need: the delight of the flesh.
Creating a link in order to repair the discontinuity of life, zombie-ism is not like any known disease, but instead it is the representation of a disease, a disease caused by fear. The of the post-modern, of the apocalypse, of sin and desecration, fear of the Other. Through “infection”, “epidemic” and “pandemic”, the monstrous Thing hidden inside us surfaces. It appears as a amoralist existence with nothing holding it back. The terrible Real we lost with our entrance to the world of language resurfaces, explodes. The expulsion and oppression of our inner monster creates the inflation maximization of the repulsiveness and the rawness of its later course. It nothing more than an alternative version of our self, our very own Mr. Hyde.
“Only the human can become inhuman. If something is monstrous – and we don't believe in monsters – then humans are the only candidates for the monstrous.”
Stanley Carell
A fear that creates suspiciousness, a sense of helplessness, a paranoid defense, a fear that creates zombies. Only zombie alone is not a threat, nevertheless it never stand alone. It bites, feeds and “reproduces” and create a mass that can climb, bring down, destroy any wall of defense we try to raise in order to save our self from, from decay, our monstrosity, the most terrifying version of our self.
I run from the Pleasure Platform to the Lick Room, I dance, fuck, lick the others and the giant lollipops. I can smell everyhthing, every drop of sweat, satisfaction, food, brath, body and mind in the Gas Chamber, where I can isolate myself and concentrate upon the new scents my new life has brought.
