i talk to god, but the sky is empty.

I LOVE THORSTEIN VEBLEN SO FUCKING MUCH IT'S UNREAL

Karl Marx writing Das Kapital(1867)

me, constantly

"The replicants have never shared this prejudice. It is exactly marked out for them that the subject is not the owner of its skin, but a migrant upon its surface, borrowing variable and evanescent identities from intensities traversed in sensitive space. The replicants drape themselves in wolf-pelts, and cross into berserk zones of alien affect, or melt into data-suits that pulse with digitized matrix traffic streams. They do not need to be told that cyberspace is already under our skin. What Freud calls the organism's 'own path to death' is a security hallucination, screening out death's path through the organism."
~N. Land; Machinic Desire

The Post-Foucault

I promise that's the last one...