Ugh, my head feels like it’s full of poison. Songs of Experience, when they’re not Blake poems but fully unaware of themselves, are so hard to bear. Lies in the form of the truth. That’ll teach me. I swore off this person’s stuff in 2020, having enjoyed little nuggets of it on Twitter. But when you take a big bite, it’s poison. A little bit of poison can smell and taste nice, that bitter almond thing. But a lot…I made myself endure it just to make sure it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.
The Black woman and man in the Thread (see below) could plausibly have said the same thing to this person, educated and best selling as they are, as they said to the white woman in the video…
This author is on that Zizek path…it’s like I made myself eat a huge bag of sweets just to make sure they really do give you a headache. So many times I’ve finished reading Slavoj to find my brain burned to a nihilistic crisp, just little wisps of smoke coming out of my head.
It allows rage and cynicism to overlap with complacency…
T
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