delerium induced by a book that runs contrary to my space time coordinates

[chadbush]

i am reading a book with the subtitle capitalism and schizophrenia surrounded by the workings of the desiring-machine in its most (un)real form. cut off from the social-technical production-machine involved in a machine that only expresses, records, and opens to the production of desire. one of the organs coupled to this machine desires a bunch of computers and another wants to produce a title, the ownership of the flow that constitutes the body-without-organs of capital moving through a third machine (the only one capable of producing any social or technical production). perhaps what i am doing is most fundamental to the function of the third organ within the flow, i feed it the energy of desire-production to create a reason for its irrational and endless production of a comodity that feeds back into the chain of production that is fed by a desire-production in some other cubicle somewhere else in the country. then there is the biggest irony that in my function as a producer of desire i sit here reading about my own schizophrenia, and the schizophrenia of everyone around me, and even the board of directors in the room adjacent to my striated space here in the office.

it is pretty fucking sick if you ask me. it induced this state of delerium where by my walking has turned into an airy floating instead of the grounded one foot in front of the other cadence that typifies my mobility-desiring-production machine feeding into the larger process of this whole apparatus. my schizophrenia is unable to disentangle me from this process, sometimes you just can't tell if you are eating or shitting with your own mouth.