|—||http://libcom.org/blog/climate-populism-people%E2%80%99s-climate-march-10092014 reading this, looking like an authentically critical yet unpessimistic piece about PCM|
Venus’ Interesting Magnetic Structure
Venus may be similar to Earth in size and mass, but there are differences between the two planets. One difference is the magnetic field. On Venus, a magnetic field isn’t generated by the planet, like Earth’s. It is actually an induced magnetosphere, a region of charged particles around the planet formed by a reaction between Venus’ ionosphere and the solar wind. New research shows that there are holes void of magnetically charged plasma in a region where such plasma is expected to be.
The holes were first noticed when the Pioneer Venus Orbiter moved around the backside of the planet back in 1978. Since then, the holes have not been detected again.
Recently, researchers studying data from the Venus Express orbiter decided to look for the holes again. They found them and realized that they were more common than initially thought, visible over a broad range of solar activity.
When the solar wind hits Venus, it wraps around the planet and a long tail extends behind it. This is what creates the magnetosphere. The Venus Express orbiter took measurements of the magnetic field strength and found variations that indicated the presence of these holes. The observations suggest that these holes are actually not just holes, but take the shape of long cylinders directed out towards space.
But what is causing these cylinders to form? In addition to the solar wind wrapping around the planet to create the magnetosphere, the researchers propose that the magnetic field lines from the solar wind is able to continue into the planet and wrap around its core, something that is also seen on the Moon. As a result, the electrically charged plasma is pushed to the sides and this is what created the two cylinders found behind the planet by the orbiters.
The black man who arrives in France changes because to him the country represents the Tabernacle; he changes not only because it is from France that he received his knowledge of Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Voltaire, but also because France gave him his physicians, his department heads, his innumerable little functionaries—from the sergeant-major “fi fteen years in the service” to the policeman who was born in Panissières. There is a kind of magic vault of distance, and the man who is leaving next week for France creates round himself a magic circle in which the words Paris, Marseille, Sorbonne, Pigalle become the keys to the vault. He leaves for the pier, and the amputation of his being diminishes as the silhouette of his ship grows clearer. In the eyes of those who have come to see him off he can read the evidence of his own mutation, his power. “Good-by bandanna, good-by straw hat… .” Now that we have got him to the dock, let him sail; we shall see him again. For the moment, let us go to welcome one of those who are coming home. The “newcomer” reveals himself at once; he answers only in French, and often he no longer understands Creole. There is a relevant illustration in folklore. After several months of living in France, a country boy returns to his family. Noticing a farm implement, he asks his father, an old don’t-pullthat-kind-of-thing-on-me peasant, “Tell me, what does one call that apparatus?” His father replies by dropping the tool on the boy’s feet, and the amnesia vanishes. Remarkable therapy
Sotir Golabovski; Oktoechos, Macedonian chant, 1993
Looking back on it, fuck Spike Spiegel and Faye and even Ed.
I want to watch a series about all of the fascinating people who populate the planetary slums in Cowboy Bebop. You can tell through even a little glimpse that every person Spike passed by in this gifset and every person that he met throughout his journey had an infinitely interesting story than his little melodrama. Even the buildings have something to say.
this was the sentiment behind theafterv3rse creating Laser Life, our queer SF reading series… cause yeah, the white heroes are always just passing through the dystopian “slums” without a second thought…
Herzog’s analysis of Gummo comes to mind.
Slavoj Žižek, Less than Nothing (via spiritandteeth)
Hmmmm. Well the Artaud-dg thing about molarity and selfness’ transience upon the bwo would appear incredibly against G-Idealism, but they could correspond: the vitalist says “I am a desert, I don’t exist” while the idealist says “I am an object”. The dramatic contours of these moments are very similar, it’s really a question of which myth or rendition is more inspiring to you.
It happens a lot. I take a trip with a piece of music from “how?” to “how.” The first “how” is actually more like How?! And the latter “how”—as in, here’s how—if less pained, still rarely feels authoritative, rather more practical. I’ve figured out a way—and probably one way out of many—to make…
|—||Cormac McCarthy blood meridian|
like, if the “degree” isn’t a hologram fabricated by the reptoids that live under zuccotti park, then i’m delusional and paranoid.
the archives are stacked endlessly with GCAS and anti-GCAS debates, but i STILL have yet to see anyone in critical university studies actually tell me what the hell a “degree” is
Only by an intensification of neurotic attachments does it mask the eruption of madness in its infrastructure, but with every passing year such attachments become more desperate, cynical, fragile. All of which is to raise the issue of the notorious ”death of capitalism”, which has been predominantly treated as a matter of either dread or hope, scepticism or belief. Capital, one is told, will either survive, or not. Such projective eschatology completely misses the point, which is that death is not an extrinsic possibility of capital, but an inherent function. The death of capital is less a prophecy than a machine part. The immanent voluptuousity of every unprecedented deal takes off from the end of the bourgeoisie. Consider the finance capital usage of cocaine: both a quantitative high traced out as a deviation from zero and a sumptuary expenditure voiding the historical sense of wealth. The coked-out futures dealer passing a drunk on a Manhattan street translates the destiny of class difference into an immanent intensity traced on a smooth surface of social disappearance. The bum inhabits the social zero preferred by capital as the vanishing point of pre-modern legality. from which the coke rush is repulsed as an anonymous distance from death. There is a becoming a rich bum, becoming a derelict on coke. which is integral to the cynicism of frontier capital.
Nick Land, Making it with Death
The finance aristocracy, in its mode of acquisition as well as in its pleasures, is nothing but the rebirth of the lumpenproletariat on the heights of bourgeois society.
The immanent voluptuousity of every unprecedented deal takes off from the end of the bourgeoisie. Consider the finance capital usage of cocaine: both a quantitative high traced out as a deviation from zero and a sumptuary expenditure voiding the historical sense of wealth. The coked-out futures dealer passing a drunk on a Manhattan street translates the destiny of class difference into an immanent intensity traced on a smooth surface of social disappearance… There is a becoming a rich bum, becoming a derelict on coke. which is integral to the cynicism of frontier capital.