Part I – An Introduction to Nerve Abolition

Let me start by introducing myself. I have a real name, of course, but my real name is useless for my purpose here. I do not care about hiding it, but I am not planning to speak under that name. One of my goals is to put an end to the “immutable transcendent being” as a valid concept for subjectivity. So this writing doesn’t come from one subject in particular, but from an assemblage of ghosts I have decided to call “Nerve Abolition”.

It’s my particular take on Artaud’s “pèse-nerfs”, translated by Helen Weaver as “nerve meter”. In his 1925 poem of the same name, Artaud writes:

All those who have points of reference in their minds, I mean on a certain side of their heads, in well-localized areas of their brains, all those who are masters of their language, all those for whom words have meanings, all those for whom there exists higher levels of the soul and currents of thought, those who represent the spirit of the times, and who have named these currents of thought, I am thinking of their meticulous industry and of that mechanical creaking which their minds give off in all directions—are pigs.

Those for whom certain words have meaning, and certain modes of being, those who are so precise, those for whom emotions can be classified and who quibble over some point of their hilarious classifications, those who still believe in “terms,” those who discuss the ranking ideologies of the age, […]—these are the worst pigs of all. […] I have already told you: no works, no language, no words, no mind, nothing. Nothing but a fine Never Meter. A kind of incomprehensible stopping place in the mind, right in the middle of everything.

We are living under the pseudo-divine, illegitimate regime and judgement of the God of Shame. An age of spiritual indiscipline and rank hypocrisy; this frail, doomed and rotten space-temporal social body perceiving its own demise as a sign of progress, where cowardice is the greatest virtue and individuation is submissive to gregarious binding contracts of never-ending legislation, aimed at weakening the sleeping virtual intensities that could be turned into harbingers of the New. To defend ourselves from falling into the traps of this polluted state of being, we must denounce everything and everyone; wage a war of antipathy on others and each other; own our nerves and find exit pathways within ourselves until words are rendered useless and identities clouded. “The real tragedy is that the society to which we are less and less honored to belong persists in making it an inexpiable crime to have gone over to the other side of the looking glass,” André Breton writes in ‘Free Rein’. “In the name of everything that is more than ever close to my heart, I cheer the return to freedom of Antonin Artaud in a world where freedom itself must be reinvented.”

To rid ourselves of nerves is to free the shackles of that which tries to define us, and which instrumentalizes that very definition against us in search of total domination – mind, body and soul. To reject the limitations of chronological virtuosity by living outside of the boundaries of linear history until our shock waves force these walls to collapse. Progressivism dies in the vacuum where there is no time.

From Artaud’s Letter to the Legislator of the law on Narcotics:

The law on narcotics places in the hands of the inspector-usurper of public health the right to have control over human suffering; it is a pretension peculiar to modern medicine to try to dictate to the individual conscience. All the bleatings of the official charter are powerless against this phenomenon of conscience: namely, that I am the master of my pain, even more than of my death. Every man is the judge, and the exclusive judge, of the quantity of physical suffering or of mental emptiness that he can honestly stand. Whether I am lucid or not, there is a lucidity which no sickness will ever take from me, that is the lucidity which dictates to me the sense of my physical life.
To claim for the abolition of nerves is nothing more than a way to liberate yourself from the way the Beast of Progress can use signal transmission to create pain through shame when you dare to walk the wrong path. Abolish the progressist pathways that have been installed in your body through a belief system that you are unable to perceive as “beliefs”, but simply as “truths”. Through this site I will go over every thinkable way through which you have been hacked – how progressist malware infected your body, unconscious and conscious existence. And I will show you how to become unhinged, so proceed carefully and of your own volition: you have been warned. Make no mistake, though: my aim is not to feed you with the boring, decomposing concept of the “red pill”. I do not need nor want to convert true believers. I do not care about changing your mind about anything. I do not plan to produce half-assembled “truths” to change your world’s perspective. Consider me someone who is offering an awfully specific type of service: to assist anyone who wants assistance in order to rid themselves of every little false-prophet-made, shame-inducing parasite. My aim is to establish a rogue, pariah state of becoming, where people like me can be the masters of their own anguish. The exclusive judges of their own pain. If this can help anyone else, great. If not, I do not care either, because I act only for myself and in accordance with my own gods. If I got your attention, though, you are very welcome here. And this? This is the Rogue Anguish Wave:
 

Anguish which drives men mad.
Anguish which drives men to suicide.
Anguish which condemns them to hell.
Anguish which medicine does not know.
Anguish which your doctor does not understand.
Anguish which violates life.
Anguish which constricts the umbilical cord of life.
By your iniquitous law you place in the hands of persons in whom I have no confidence whatsoever – medical asses, druggists of dung, dishonest judges, doctors, midwives, pedantic inspectors – the authority over my anguish, an anguish which in me is as acute as the needles of all the compasses of hell. Whether the tremors are of the body or of the soul, the human seismograph does not exist that would enable someone looking at me to reach a more precise evaluation of my suffering than the lightning flash of my own mind! All the fortuitous scientific knowledge of mankind is not superior to the direct knowledge that I can have of my being. I am the only judge of what is within me.

The goal is clear: to have absolute authority over your anguish. And the only way to create an autonomous body locus where your anguish is truly yours is by dissidence. We will hunt priests, and we will learn to smell priests from miles away. This is criminal, of course. This is a way to weaponize thoughtcrime. But enough with the big words, let’s talk business.

270 What does your conscience say? – You should become who you are.

271 Where lie your greatest dangers? – In compassion.

272 What do you love in others? – My hopes.

273 Whom do you call bad? – He who always wants to put people to shame.

274 What is most human to you? – To spare someone shame.

275 What is the seal of having become free? – No longer to be ashamed before oneself.

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science

So, this is where we start. “What is the seal of having become free? – No longer to be ashamed before oneself”. Words to live by, if you ask me. This is extremely essential to comprehend what I am saying: the nerve abolition does not oppose anguish or pain – this would be a worthless, stupid effort yielding absolutely no results. This would also be incredibly totalitarian and destructive, for anguish is an essential part of human life, as is how you deal with it. What should be abolished is false, distorted, manipulated pain. The one you are constantly injected and bombarded with through the endless shaming of who you are. There are a lot of reasons to suffer in this world, but not all of them should be considered legitimate. The rogue anguish wave is nothing but a way to declare, once again, once and for all: To Have Done With the Judgment of God. Our anguish is our own, and it will forever lie outside your jurisdiction. I don’t care who you are, what your values are, what you defend, where you locate on the political spectrum these false voices in your head you’ve been taught to call your own: you have no authority here. Rogue Anguish, Pariah Pain: this is our land, and this is the ground we shall walk upon.

We have been warning the Left for years about the inherent danger of what is now being called “cancel culture”. The Beast of Progress is ruthless, and it spares nothing and no one – not even its own. Shame for the Shame God. Your best friend will happily throw you under the bus if you have been caught red-handed, sinning, defying progressive liturgy. He will do that for ten likes on Twitter and to save his own neck. The Left is coming for you, whether you believe me or not. Give it enough time. You will soon say the wrong words, or the right words in the wrong way, and they will come for your reputation, your job, your friends, your family, your life, your anguish.

You have been brainwashed by a spoon-fed notion of subjectivity (something which I will write about next), because you can only “cancel’ someone who fully identifies with what is being “cancelled”. If they got you this bad, man, you are fucked. You are stuck in cyberhell. What is at stake here isn’t just free speech on social media – it is your soul, or whatever you want to call it. You have been sold out, not to the Devil, and you were worthless. That is the “truth”.

You have two choices here: react or surrender. You can just give up on being an individual thinker, like everyone else is doing right now. Shout out their buzzwords like you believe them. But do not forget: cowardice is the only true sin for someone who values dignity. It will eat you inside out.

I propose something else entirely; I propose exit. Escape. Not only through material means, which in itself is insufficient, but truly escaping: tell that boring monologue inside your skull that you delude yourself into thinking is “you” to fuck off. “You” do not exist – at least not in the way that they have been tirelessly trying to convince you of through countless decrepit years, hexing their “you” into your body. Kill the Parasite-King you have been hosting for so long; bring forth the voice from within that knows you are the sole master of your anguish. Not their voice, and not mine either, for I only propose that “you should become who you are”. Suffer for the right reasons – the reasons you believe are worthy of sorrow. Not because of shame. Especially not because of shame the Church of Progress is trying to sell you.

Hear me out, this is important: everybody has something to hide. You know what you have done. I do not care, but they do. And if they figure it out, you are doomed forever. Abandon ship before it is too late. React. Exit. There is not a single person in this world older than fourteen who has not committed something which would fuel Leftist witch hunts. That is just a simple fact. We are all too human and the Beast of Progress is not. If that is indeed the case, I declare the hunting season has begun – and we will aim for the heads. It is time.

The never-ending individuation process is not bound by outdated theories of “time”, meaning that (in didactic terminology) every nanosecond of a nanosecond I leave a new ghost persona as trail. They are infinite. Good luck cancelling them all.

Whoever lays his hands on me to govern me is a usurper and a tyrant; and I declare him my enemy.

Joseph Proudhon

That is all for now. Next up, we will start hitting them where it really hurts: their precious little subject. Stay tuned if you would like to see some blood.