‘Trumpet Vines’ Reverberation

I don’t want the presents which
Contrary to your intention, are
The very denial of what you give.” -Ricardo Reis

It’s become so ingrained, the platitudes we offer Nature, and yet, there’s no clear sense of just who is to receive our intended gifts! But then offering a gift from a fearful distance may make one wonder if the real recipient is none but ourselves from the outset.

‘Nature’ is a concept and no matter how vague it may be, it’s a dominating concept, a ‘higher ideal.’ Just when we could move in closer, we keep our distance. Safe. Out of harms way. If we were to move close, we’d sense a thousand-million leaves, some of them thorny spines who want not our embraces; that black widow there; those ferns hanging by that spring and the fungi below our feet; all each unique. ‘Nature’ provides us with a wall of green at best. We can never turn toward it because there is no ‘it’ to turn toward — except our own reflection. ‘Nature’ a reflecting pool, our mirror.

Reverence toward ‘nature,’ only deepens our alienation from those we’ve already once denied our gifts. Do we not assume that gratitude is something we ought to show? Do we not stifle every opportunity for each of those ‘thousand-million leaves’ to be grateful for us, not only through our concept ‘nature,’ but in reverent feelings? Reverence isn’t rejoicing. That we con-fuse wariness with intimacy, awe with an embrace, is symptomatic of just how ill-constituted for joy we’ve become. (1)

Why the fearful distance?

Perhaps partly for the illusion of control (as has been pointed out by others). Control for our ‘well-being,’ our commerce, our ‘progress,’ and so forth. Maybe this is partly why we chose the name ‘nature.’ With only a touch of skepticism on our part we can see in this word the piece of arbitrariness which girds it. Namely, that ‘birth/generation’ supports us in every way: our food, the narcissism that all else is but a stage for our ‘human’ drama, to assuage our fear of death/disappearance, etc. That our well-being, that which we like, signs off for all which exists.

And maybe if we delve a bit more still we’ll find that if we move closer, to meet and mingle, with so many other unique ones, that not all are willing to become our friend, desire our intimacy or reciprocate our warm feelings. Again, there are spines and thorns, venom, running and hiding, camouflage, attacks…this in degrees and gradations not ‘either/or’ for not all desire our company in precisely the same way or manner.

And we fluctuate, change, as well. To forget this is to retain a bit of a belief of ‘afterlife,’ continuation of our ‘isness,’ that ‘no’ against living.

Yes! Sometimes we’re able to stand more, we’re stronger, more healthy, vibrant, full; and thus we can digest that which we previously believed cruel.

To be sure, ‘nature’ allows us to forget the ‘cruel facts’ in the very act ‘existing’ in order to revere ‘it’ and, conversely, condemn ‘it’ because of ‘its’ cruelty. Additionally, we can also blot out our own deep fear of rejection by those many we depend upon for our very existence. By relegating every unique one to ‘nature’ we’re able to deceive ourselves into believing we ‘know’ every one of the thousand-million leaves since we can talk among ourselves about them, with little to no play with them, and hence they reside always just below our self-presumed rank. We might not feel so alone with our own reflection, but this is only superstition arising once more, since we’re never truly isolated to begin with. We’re always accompanied by innumerable and often imperceptible relations.

That we simply don’t like the character of some of those relations, or conversely, to trumpet those selections loudly, says more about ‘us’ than it does all those we commit to our dyspeptic asylum, ‘nature.’ Might it be possible that a few arrive yet at a gastronomy where they find ‘nature’ completely abhorrent to their taste (as far too bland, at best) upon tasting the array of flavors available to them? To each I and You?


  1. ‘Revere’ and ‘wariness’ stem from the same root word

My Surrealistic Egoist Anarcho-Rusticism

My egoist anarchy begins to look like — anarcho-rusticism (ha!). What this means to you makes no real difference to me, unless I care. Regardless. I’m not in charge of your visions, your meanings, your musings.

My anarcho-rusticism has nothing to do with a doctrine, cannot be a blueprint. I’ve not drawn it out. I have no grand plan; even for myself.

I’ve not drawn it out, because ‘it’ is no-thing and I’ve not lived it out yet. I’m writing these words out, after all!

Anarcho-rusticism is simply a couple of notions brought forth; an instance of poesis cobbling themselves together one day of their own accord – image(s) and meaning(s)–pointing toward a description. A surrealist opening of and toward the Marvelous.

The Marvelous: neither ‘thing’ nor state-of-being. But a play where player and played are neither remain figure nor ground; inseparable in the playing.

Eternal Deferment

I, the master of the obvious: it’s been some time since I’ve posted, although I’ve not been inactive. I’m simply not drawn to electronic media like I am old fashion pen and paper. But, nonetheless, I’d like to put some of my thoughts out there in the off chance someone may respond and add to these dreams and thoughts.

Part of hesitancy toward posting has been due to the cloudiness of my own thinking about certain things. When I started this blog, I was definitely coming from an attempt to bridge some gaps between what I may only indicate as ‘egoism’ and ‘anarcho-primitivism/green anarchy.’ Perhaps there is no affinity to be had, and even more likely it may be the case that I have no desire to seek such a bridge past my original enthusiasm. To find such, at this point, seems to me a case of just making shit up on one level, and then…

And then, there is the revolt I’ve maintained throughout my life against the perspectives, ways of thinking, beliefs which eternally postpone joy. Heaven isn’t just the imaginary place of the religious, but also the eternally deferred moment of the adherents of so-called realism. Anarcho-primitivism smacks of just this endless deferral. In my greediness for an ever increasing passion for living, joy, amor fati, I’ve pretty much dropped AP’s visionary proposals, if one may call them such, even if I may appreciate many of the critiques of civilization. I am grateful to what I have, and continually, gleaned from these critiques.

In addition, I cannot perpetuate any quest to sidestep egoism with a surrogate: adaugeoism. There’s simply no need. ‘Egoist’ may work just fine depending on the moment, mood, and relationship-at-hand. Fuck ‘adaugeoism.’ That project is dead.

Currently, I’m writing on some things which have come up for me in a powerful way over the past year. Mainly, it involves those ways in which I see enslavement perpetuated in unexpected and insidious formulations of miserabilism. Hopefully soon I’ll be able to share these glances, images and thoughts with you soon, rather than eternally deferred…


A small proposal. And this may seem a bit convoluted at first, but it’s my sincere desire in following posts to make this more clear.


Given the conceptual, moralistic, and emotional baggage the word ‘egoism’ carries, I’d like to propose a neologism to stand in for the Stinerian project: adaugeoism. I hate ‘ism’ terminology, but as much as I like Jason McQuinn’s explication of Stirner in the form of ‘critical self-theory,’ I simply find the phrase cumbersome. This may prove to be the case with adaugeoism as well, but we can’t be worse off for the attempt.

Why not ‘egoism?’

Well, as I said in the opening lines ‘egoism’  is too laden with baggage to have much use in conversation. It has such contradictory meanings. ‘Egoism’ may mean to some the ‘rugged individualist’ of capitalist propaganda, particularly of the American variety. It may mean what John Zerzan and others refer to as ‘the free-floating ego’ or solipiscism (even though it’s been explained otherwise on more than one occasion). It may be synonymous with gluttony and sexual-orgies to the religious fundamentalist. Whatever the case may be, ‘egoism’ is fraught with a moral sense of evil. For me, ‘egoism’ is completely at odds with all the above.

Why adaugeoism?

The word ‘adaugeo’ is Latin in origin and means to increase, to nourish, to enlarge, augment (of which it’s related), strengthen; all of which indicates, nicely I think, what McQuinn refers to as ‘the big self’ in contradistinction to a reified image or representation of what one should be, the ‘little self,’ or ‘narcissism’ as Bellamy of FRR uses the latter term.

This is more than a semantic concern, however. It’s practicality, I think, lies in a ‘turn’ we of western persuasion may wish to consider if we wish not to continue to undermine our own lives by way of undermining all planetary life by way of expressing those sets of reifications known as Western Civilization. By way of turning our present inclination for consuming the world-as-things around to augmenting self so that we recognize self-as-world, we may say: ‘all things are no-thing to me.’

All that we presently gaze upon as ‘not-self,’  as ‘other’ as ‘things,’ may potentially become relations, inter-weavings, by which this place, this self-as-place or -nexus, participates fully and yet uniquely, since ‘one’s own,’ one’s property, is no longer a question of possession, but of quality. Self is neither sought nor determined as a ‘what’ (a ‘thing,’ an ‘essence’) nor analyzed as a ‘why’ (a ‘reason,’ a ’cause’) but simply occurs as a ‘where,’ a ‘how,’ and a unique ‘who,’ inseparable from ‘all things.’

This self is so enlarged self and world become singular. We begin ‘here’ so to speak, where we stand, since nearly all pre-/un-modern indigenous peoples already find themselves enmeshed in a host of relationships. It’s their world. Ours is a history of an isolated soul-concept and a far away owner-father god. We’ve gone so far inward and found nothing while all we are dissipate into an absolute nihilistic Here! We’ve desired that which is so far beyond as to find our grasp empty with every skyward clawing. The absolute There never-ending.

To re-approach all those things–until they are ‘things’ no more, they become qualities of self, this uniqueness, sensing and feeling its ownness. To augment this unique instance, oneself… all things are no-thing to me!