The Young-Girl Against Communism

The Young-Girl privatizes everything she perceives.  Thus, for her, a philosopher is not a philosopher, but an extravagant erotic object; in the same way, for her, a revolutionary is not a revolutionary, but a piece of jewelry.

The Young-Girl is a consumer article, a device for the maintenance of order, a producer of sophisticated commodities, a new propagator of spectacular codes, an avant-garde of alienation, and she is also an amusement.

When the Young-Girl says "Yes" to life, she's only expressing her deaf hatred for what is superior to time.

When the Young-Girl talks about community, she's always thinking about the community of the species, about the living as a whole.  She's never thinking about a specific community, since she'd necessarily be excluded from it.

Even when she thinks she's engaging her "whole self" in a relationship, the Young-Girl is mistaken, because she fails to engage her Nothingness in it too.  And that's where she gets her dissatisfaction and where she gets her "friends."

Because she discovers the world through the eyes of the commodity, when the Young-Girl looks at someone she only sees what him or her is "like," what resembles that person.  Inversely, she considers the thing that in her is the most generic as the most personal: the sex act.

The Young-Girl wants to be loved "for herself," that is, for what isolates her.  That's why she always keeps an appraiser's distance, even at bottom from her own ass.

The Young-Girl summarizes in herself alone all the nothingness, paradox, and tragedy of visibility.

The Young-Girl is the privileged vehicle of commodity social darwinism.

The continual pursuit of sex is a manifestation of a poor substantiality.  The truth behind it is not to be found in "pleasure," "hedonism," the "sexual instinct," or any of the existential content that Bloom has so completely emptied of its meaning, but rather in the frenzied quest for any kind of a bond to the social totality, which has become inaccessible.  This is about giving oneself a feeling of participation, through the exercise of the most generic activity there is, the one linked most closely to the reproduction of the species.  That's why the Young-Girl is both the most common and the most sought-after object there is, because she is the incarnation of the Spectacle, or at least she aspires to such title.

In the Young-Girl's understanding, the question of an ultimate purpose is a superfluous one.

In general, all poor substantialities spontaneously win the Young-Girl's favor.  However there are certain ones that get preference.  So it is for any pseudo-identity capable of claiming superiority in terms of "biological" content (age, sex, size, race, measurements, health, etc.).

The Young-Girl postulates an irrevocable intimacy with everything that shares her physiology.  Her function is thus to tend the fading fires of all the illusions of immediacy on which Biopower can then hold itself aloft.

The Young-Girl is the termite in the "material," the marathon runner of the "everyday."  Domination has made her into the privileged bearer of the ideology of the "concrete."  The Young-Girl isn't satisfied just to be all crazy about what's "low maintenance," "simple," and "lived"; she furthermore considers that the "abstract," the "complex" are evils that it would be wise to eradicate.  But what she calls the "concrete" is itself, in its ferocious one-sidedness, the most abstract of things.  It is the shield of wilted flowers behind which advances the thing she was designed to carry out: The violent negation of metaphysics.  The Young-Girl doesn't just have a chip on her shoulder against whatever transcends her; she's got a whole forest against it, a whole pound of barking dogs.   Her hatred for everything great, everything that is outside the reach of consumerism, is immeasurable.

The Young-Girl has enough "concrete" about her to not succumb to the metaphysical feeling of her own nothingness.

"Evil is whatever distracts." (Kafka)

The "Love of life" that the Young-Girl glorifies so much is in reality nothing but her hatred of danger.  Thus, she only professes her determination to keep a relationship of pure immediacy with what she calls "life," and which, obviously, only refers to "life within the Spectacle."


Of all the aporias the pretentious mass of which comprises western metaphysics, the most durable appears to be that of the constitution, by the repudiation thereof, of a sphere of "bare life."  Underlying qualified, political, presentable human existence, there is supposedly, a whole despicable, indistinct, unspeakable sphere of "bare life"; reproduction, home economics, the upkeep of the vital faculties, heterosexual coupling or even diet, all those things that PEOPLE have as much as possible associated with the "feminine identity" supposedly have their confluence in that swamp.  The Young-Girls have merely inverted the symbols of an operation that they've left unchanged.  And thus they have made themselves a very curious kind of commonality that PEOPLE might call living-for-living's-sake if THEY knew that the commonality of western metaphysics has lately been identified with "living-for-dying's-sake."  As much and so totally that the Young-Girls have convinced themselves to unite on the deepest level of their being regarding physiology, everydayness, psychology, malicious corner gossip, and what PEOPLE think.   The repeated failure of their loves and of their friendships does not appear to be of a nature sufficient to open their eyes or make them see that it is precisely that which separates them.

The Young-Girl opposes her swarm of organs against finiteness.  Against solitude, the continuity of the living.  And against the tragedy of disclosure, the idea that it's  good to be noticed.

In the same way as are the beings that are the limits of it, the relationships that are formed within the Spectacle are deprived of content and meaning - if still the lack of meaning so obvious in the whole extent of the Young-Girl's life drove her nuts - but no; it only leaves her in her normal state of definitive absurdity.  Their establishment isn't dictated by any kind of real usage (Young-Girls properly speaking don't really have anything to do together) or by a certain taste, one-sided as it may be, that the one may have for the other (even their tastes aren't their own), but merely by symbolic usefulness, which makes each partner into a symbol of the other's happiness, the paradisiacal completeness that the Spectacle's mission is to constantly redefine.

Seduction, by becoming an argument for Total Mobilization, has naturally taken on the form of a job interview and "love" a sort of mutual and private employment, with an indeterminate duration for the lucky ones.

"Don't get all worked up!"

No betrayal is punished more severely by the Young-Girl than that of the Young-Girl that deserts the Young-Girls' Army, or claims to liberate herself from it.

The essential activity of the Young-Girl does not consist solely in separating the "professional" from the "personal," the "social" from the "private," the "emotional" from the "utilitarian," the "reasonable" from "madness," the "everyday" from the "exceptional," etc., but above all in incarnating that separation in her very "life."

The Young-Girl can certainly talk about death, but invariably she'll conclude that after all "that's life."

The Young-Girl "loves life," which must be understood as implying that she hates all "forms of life."

The Young-Girl is like everything else that talks of "love" in a society that does everything it can to make it definitively impossible: she lies in the service of domination.

The Young-Girl's "youth" only refers to a certain stubborn denial of finiteness.

The Young-Girl's ass is a global village.

When she talks of "peace" and "happiness," the face the Young-Girl makes is that of death.  Her negativity is not of the mind; it is the negativity of the inert.  

The Young-Girl has a singular connection to bare life, in all its forms.

The Young-Girl has entirely rewritten the names of the seven deadly sins.  On the first line, she has cutely calligraphed the word: "solitude."  

The Young-Girl swims underwater in immanence.

changed April 6, 2011