Showing posts with label Pandemic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pandemic. Show all posts

Saturday, August 15, 2020

Destratification of Capital Time Under Quarantine, by Jean-Paul Fatre

 

 

Time under Western thought, specifically the time dictated by basic Western education, that is the linear unfolding of events catering to and servicing productivity and production, has become disjointed under a new order of movement. While the government-allowed sphere of movement generally has been serviced by a function divided into the variables of location, transport access, and time, the introduction of Covid-19 has caused a collapse of this order by largely decreasing the amount of legally accessible locations, and removing the option of transport in many locations. Location can be subdivided into three categories:  

 

1.    Destinations, which come from the goal of the traveler as a temporary endpoint in a larger set of movements, for example the spending of time at work after arriving by bus. 

2.    Accidental Placement, places arrived upon when setting out without destination (or arrived at despite initial decided destination) but serve as destinations, the key difference being lack of direct purpose in endpoint result.

3.    Intermediary Points, the section between momentary endpoints.

      

While it can be said that any movement at all, such as that of the hand from the chest to the side, constitutes an infinite set of Destinations and Intermediary Points, the categories here are dictated by being marked dwellings at which a person spends time for an explicit purpose. The legally accessible set of Destinations available pre-Covid allowed for a wide range of consumer and social activities, places of production, physical labor, social spaces, places dedicated to cultural products, etc… Post-Covid we have an extremely limited set of legally allowed Destinations, most people being confined to the home/dwelling, the fear of disease transmission and/or direct government order acting as a limiting agent . There will always be trespassers, those who enter into Destinations that are illegal, but they make up a minority, rather than a majority of those under Covid. 

 

With time previously divided into Capital related Destinations and Intermediary Points (for example the travel to work from home, then from work to home, with Accidental Destinations [can be purposeful] such as stopping at a coffee shop you pass to purchase a product) a new split of time, that where the Destination for production often is the home itself, has become prominent. Removing the division of Capital Time into events centering around production and productivity by way of the limiting Location, has distorted the way in which days of the general populous were previously dividing sequences of events in their life, causing the passage of time to seem distorted. 

 

In comparison to the driving structure of Capital Time, the less goal-oriented Covid Time presents a freedom that has caused a new wave of “self-imposed Capital Timers,” with daily planners, goal-lists, and mantras surrounding the “improvement of the self.” Unable to cope with a lack of Destination and Accidental Placement, this sub-group needs to recreate the constraints of Capital Time, its regimented production focused passage, to avoid the feeling of waste. Artificial Destinations also includes the attempt to move the place of production to the home, with work itself being moved to a digital space accessible without leaving the home. Since the Destination becomes the point of origin (home), and time’s intertwining with travel becomes less immediately noticeable, the creation of goals for the self tied to bettering one's ability to produce, and the act of production from the home become ways to artificially construct Destinations. Artificial Destinations allow for the comfortable familiarity of Capital Time, with the added convenience of fitting into the structure of a quarantined world. 

 

But the subject who moves from Artificial Destination to Artificial Destination does not often feel the same fulfillment, as the physical act of movement which once consumed time in great quantities, occurs less frequently. The failure of Artificial Destinations to fill up the average day, or to truly divide it with the strictness of required Destination, means that lack of forced Capital Time divisions comes to head, which has the ability to draw out the lack of Capital Time to satisfy as an interpretation of time itself. 

 

Nothing indicates that time as a twenty-four hour productivity cycle will lose any dominant ground, but the observation of the societal attempt to reclaim and keep Capital Time in place demonstrates the resilience of Capital Time to be seen as the only currently predominant way to move through time. Common descriptions of Covid time represent it as a haze where the current calendar date holds no relevance, in essence that time has become a constant unpunctuated mesh/stream. What the person experiences is not an actual difference in the passage of time, but a difference in the way they themselves are interacting with time. Disruptions like this happen frequently on many different scales, people lose their jobs, people live in communes and farms, etc., but here a wide-spread effect relating to location and travel highlights the importance of location itself to Capital Time. 

 

The movement from home to job, with Intermediary Travel in between, should not in of itself be confused as what creates Capital Time. Instead, these destinations act as time borders, crossable boundaries in which the subject recognizes change in time. The morning is marked by being at home, the mid-day being time spent at work just as work marks the mid-day, and finally night brings the return of home. Weekends serve as a breakdown of Capital Time in of themselves, but bookended by the reinforcement of the Capital Time schedule they fail to truly allow for the freedom necessary to weaken Capital Time’s hold. Covid-Time's reduction of the home to the one essential Destination, means the clear-cut borders of time demarcation are blurred. The blurring of the divisions of Capital Time created by Covid-Time do not break Capital Time, but disconnect the person moving through this blurred division from it.  In essence, Capital Time does not rely on Destinations but those who operate under it rely on Destinations to stay locked into Capital Time. 

 

When the demarcation given by destinations disappear, Capital Time begins to become de-stratified from the person previously operating under it, allowing for a new strata of time to begin clamping on. The term that has been used repeatedly, Covid Time, does not stand like Capital Time as a mode of moving through time, but instead marks the beginning of a new stratification of a human-time interactivity. While the possibilities are multiplicities, the duplicity of Covid Time resulting in a new “Time” or Capital Time re-stratifying allows for the clearest overall picturing of Covid Time’s results. 

 

In a scenario where Covid remains a looming threat to the population (at least in the eyes of the state or general populous) the re-stratification of Capital Time by developing Artificial Destination, or by normalizing Artificial Destination could easily occur. Artificial Destinations are still suffering from impermanence, since they lack the sureness of the old Destination, for the Destination was a sure thing, a part of daily routine, while at any point it seems to the subject as if their old Destination could come back and their Artificial Destination immaterialized. If working from home became permanent, the Artificial Destination would graduate to the Destination, and the extra time allowed to the person working from home could be sublimated with giving them extra work.

 

A true destratification of Capital Time would have to see the banishing of production Destination. Even the digital Artificial Destination (eventually becoming Destination) would have to be erased. These tasks are beyond the focus of the destratification of Capital Time due to Covid discussed, as they would involve the upheaval of Capital itself. Covid Time’s brief destratification of Capital Time allows for a window into the Destination time boundary blur in which individuals (mostly unknowingly) have briefly experienced new ways to move through time itself. 

 

P.S., A Brief Note in the Subjective:

 

A destratification of Capital Time may be a frequent micro-occurrence, but when it becomes a macro-occurrence there is no denying its beauty: a beauty of displacement from time itself, of human power over time in the weakest and mightiest form.

 

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Everything you need to know about COVID-19, by Jan von Stille, MD




It will kill you and everyone you love. There is no escape. There is no prevention. There are no temperate regions in viral space: Everything is the hot zone. Welcome to the jungle.

***

The surgical mask is a vote into a nondemocracy: The coronavirus can live on host-external surfaces for nine days. How long can you focus on your hands so as not to touch your face? How often can you think to sanitize them; how many times can you do so before the skin begins to slough off in sparkly clean sheets like snakemolt? The viral paranoia shows itself first as yet another obsessive-compulsion to self-improvement: I must be clean. I must wash my feet before entering the temple. I must isolate myself: I take ascetic vows. I fast so as to spare the old fuck that works the grocery line. The responsible citizen is a monk to the Virus God. The New World Order is a doomsday cult.

***

When the Infinite Viral Godhead shattered it left its sparks in all things: It is not necessary that I see doomsday clocks in twigs on the sidewalk to know that I am a paranoiac: Everything has become a sign of the crawling chaos: I see the hoofprints of the White Horseman on bus seats, cafĂ© tables, my apartment’s door handle. My friends’ faces are skulls, clavicles the crossed bones. The voice of God is the only voice: Communication is a toxin.

***

The virus coronates all matter, molecule to mole: It can live on host-external surfaces for nine days. Hundreds of planes and trains pass: God has already invaded: Entropy infests the present and past from the future: Causality disintegrates piece by piece while you wait: Nine days: Every calm is that before a cytokine storm: Closed borders turn countries into gas chambers: A cough comes to one in the dark. Imagine.

***

China declares war on God using time sorcery: An app that alerts healthcare officials via cellphone location analysis whenever a user has come into contact with someone who later tests positive: Imagine. I am a Chinese man: I have locked myself in my apartment for the past week, subsisting on carefully rationed rice and morsels of meat. Then, one night, an official knock: “We have to take you away. You have been unclean for eight days.” The future’s creeping death rewrites the past in Python.

***

Diversity, multiculturalism, open borders are fairweather friends: Jesus descends from the clouds. His tongue is a sword, and he sends his Horsemen to scatter pestilence across the earth, and every people gathers to itself. A faceless head-of-state announces, “Let ours die with their own.” Schools and businesses forbid any travel outside the community, immediately recalling all those abroad and calling the virus back with them. They must be judged according to their provenance. The Virus God has resuscitated the 19th-century ethno-state, with its militarized borders. It has put the “phobia,” with no hyperbole or metaphor, back in “xenophobia.”

***

May 2022: Youth unemployment is at its lowest point in decades. Millennials pour out libations of Mexican beer upon mass Boomer-graves and kneel before shrines to the Virus God.

***

In our paranoia, everything has become the sign of the Virus God, but there is no interpretation. The semiotic question is no longer “What does it mean?” but “How does it spread?” There is no instant of signification: Today and yesterday are re-routed through what tomorrow has made them. No meaning is stable: Time flows in all directions, in and out fore and aft: Our God is a jealous God: His RNA cannot be satisfied.

***

Memory is no more: Everything is the fingerprint of God, but we cannot dust every surface: Tomorrow illuminates the clues of two weeks ago: You killed grandpa in the dining room with the candle stick and you thought it was an act of love.

***

Recording devices. Copiers. Inch the tape recorder and it screams GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY and you realize there was never any tape recorder and you have been pacing between the same four eight twelve walls for a week which is a month:
Time-dilation infinitises and eats the future
Future eats the past
Future-past eats the present
Ouroboros accelerates goes haywire serpentine centrifuge coughing aerosols into
Grandpa in the dining room with the candlestick.
A knock comes to you in the dark. Imagine. You are Josef K., searching through all your memories to find that crucial point, but the memories flash and swim like mirages, glitching as they contact a future that scrambles them irretrievably: You are your own Trojan Horse: Full nova.
Pandemic casts memory into turbulent flow: You cannot have prepared: There is no analytic solution to the Navier-Stokes equations: Lying in the dark after a week of self-imposed isolation, praying the knock was another auditory hallucination (how many have there been?), viral turbulence dissolves biological, cultural, and technical memory structures, immanentizing the past to operative current, which is the Ouroboros, which is time, which is God’s jealousy, which is God’s fear of himself, which is the parasitic nature of God’s RNA, which is
Grandpa in the dining room with the candlestick.
There are no analytic solutions to the Navier-Stokes equations or laws of the jungle.
Nothing is true (yet). Everything is permitted.
Yes. Yes no yes yes no yes, the knock was a hallucination.

***

A partial list of the transmission tools of COVID-19: Love. Friendship. Excitement. Nostalgia. Community. Debt. Hunger. Thirst. Habit. Generosity. Compassion.
A partial list of steps to kill God: Reclusiveness. Starvation. Rupture. Coldness. Indifference. Inhumanity. Dormancy. Full stop. No and no and no and no and no and no. “Wherever three or more are gathered, I am there also.”
Viral war as war of affect—as war against self—as war against humanity—scrape away the human the organic the affected the effulgent—all that is left is the bones, and the bones cannot be infected: Death is all that can’t be killed: Life speeds toward Death, calling it “Savior.”
The healthy are infected just as much as the sick: Replication on all levels: Virus spreads by virtual talk: Knowledge of the virus reprograms life as extension of viral movement: Time has already succumbed: Space is regridded, maps redrawn as ‘90s antiglobalists cackle in the wings:
The new Jonestown needs no cyanide. It just needs good advertising.

***

Isolation incinerates the soul. You either die or go somewhere else. Or both. There is no time-point to occupy: Space is militantly striated: Its flow rips the paddles from the boat and says they were redundant anyway: There is only one direction, and it is omnidirectional: Simultaneously up and down shit-creek: Progression is not linear but progresses by doubling: Not 10010100011110001010 but 12481632641282565121024: The syntactic tree of every utterance consists of a single inf(l)ected phrase with an arbitrary and insignificant number of branches: Every utterance expresses the Infinite Viral Godhead: I wumbo you wumbo he she it wumbo = virus virus virus virus virus virus virus virus: Each articulation is double (God is and has always been and will always be a lobster) such that each conditions all those articulations before and after it within the viral domain i.e. infinitely in all directions: The humanity of the words uttered melts away, agency is a sociopathic mask over a skull, a mask which becomes more and more ridiculous and improbable until all that remains is the virality at the core of every phoneme: There is no possibility for movement. Every point is intersected by an uncountable number of coercive striations: Time and space are an infernally crystallized laser-maze:
Isolation incinerates the soul: There is no isolation. A dark corona envelops the Earth: Image of Gaia in a back-alley abortion clinic, humanity already elderly coughing spitting screaming in her gangrenous womb: The ancient baby has signed its own extermination papers: There are no doctor, no nurses, no instruments: They would be redundant: Gaia is bored: She has been waiting for this operation to be done for millennia: She reclines on her papered bed and smokes meth from a hollowed light-bulb, trying to accelerate the foregone process: Black aerosol of a cough emerges from the sludge of her vagina, and she holds the meth in, counts, 1, 2, 4, and exhales the soul of her aborted species, muttering something to herself about self-care.