At the end of this pointless diatribe without a target I’m returned to the initial thought, as if following the cyclical trajectories of repetitions of progression and regression. There is an ambivalence, a deep dissonance in thought. It writhes not only in abstract cognition but finds itself poisoning concrete cognition’s peristaltic motions, a sickness infecting speculative and practical philosophies.
The endless explosive potencies of nihilism as a “libidinous” excitation. The word in scare quotes betrays the poverty of that very excitation, offering as it does an admission that have the dimmest understanding of the phenomena. Even so it takes on a kind of propulsive thrust that forces us to follow in its wake.And yet thought also looks back and sees the devastation left in it’s wake.
What appears on the left as a cycling bipolarity between depression and mania, and on the right as a paranoia and idealized mourning, occurs to thought in the most abstract and generalized manner as a schizoid fracturing.