[NetBehaviour] Xenofeminism cutup

[Edward Picot]

These realities: a bid for revolution, with technological mediation, 
assembled from a critique of our future position. No more interlacing 
our daily justice and with the geographical world that swarms towards us 
demanding imagination. Dexterity, race, ability. The economic treadmill 
of the human, cutting across emancipation, will contribute to virtuality 
and complexity. No more drudgery of labour, no more lives with 
abstraction or vision; a future game of history cunning and scale. Ours 
is a futureless repetition of constructs, a universalist politics of 
vertigo.  Masked as reification of gender, submission to the It is a 
feminism of unprecedented depetrification. But a wager requires 
productive and reproductive capital.

 From the lives of any process of futurity we must engineer an economy 
that liberates. From the street to the home, 'domestic realism' has no 
place for the single parent. If we augmented homes to shared 
laboratories, our horizon would let us set our sights on reinventions of 
family structure and the domestic cycles that lock it in place. The home 
as norm builds models of familiality free from burdens, and we must 
overhaul that which has stubbornly worked. We isolate the economic 
sphere – the way of communal media and technical facilities. Children, 
while penalizing those who stray, have been deemed impossible: an 
un-remakeable given. Stultifying and stereoscopic. We see too well that 
the home is ripe for spatial life. Withdrawing from the material 
infrastructure, we break the economic tentacles. So  reproductive labour 
and domestic family life, profoundly ingrained, cannot stop at the 
garden. The moribund feminist figure has been conflated with women from 
the public sphere, who want to break the inertia that is an integral 
component of space. Disembedded, manyfold, spatial transformation too 
must not escape.

So - the given, illusion; freedom and naturalism, illusion. Ontological 
nothing. The promethean human, unbounded, extending here and there, 
unflinching, tearing, tinkering with unambitious will. That which is, 
is: that which is towards, is. Is cannot transcend towards, towards 
cannot say is, to our scientifically transformed hack, our hack 
transformed scientifically from the supernatural. Oh melancholy that 
aperture of science, which our claim widens to non-scaleable; which has 
pushed down the libidinized sacred, all sacred Nature pushed down, into 
the so un-remarkable cast. There is nothing understood: nothing. The 
arena is manipulated to say nothing to those in the know. And gender 
cultures, online technoscience, anti-naturalism as puritanism, are 
reengineered to be normative, reengineered to a studied nothing. Oh 
melancholy the promethean human!