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These days I find myself filled with the impulse to burn this blog. Of course, you can’t burn a series of zeros and ones. Perhaps it is just the winter break. I never fare well when I have time on my hands. It’s as if I need some minimal resistance, some thing blocking my desire to think and write, in order to think and write. When I actually get the time I want, I no longer want what I want. All of this, of course, makes me wonder what it is that I want. Nonetheless, these days I find myself far too self-conscious, far too aware. I’ve had the tragic misfortune of coming to know my audience… An article here, a speaking gig there. Larval Subjects was conceived as just that: Larval Work. Dissatisfied with academia and the manner in which we’re forced to strategize what we will publish and work on so that we might get work, I imagined another space where I just wouldn’t care anymore. Somewhere, in his brilliant Capitalism and Religion, Goodchild speaks of this, wondering whether he wouldn’t have written better, posed questions differently, if he weren’t beset by the dynamics of capital and the necessity of intellectual labor so as to subsist. An anonymous blog would be an escape from that and the promise of a leap outside the academic machine and the manner in which it compels us to make all sorts of decisions so as to work, to get tenure, to gain time. Yet Larval Subjects is no longer so larval. I feel as if I’ve lost my compass, my desire. Recently I’ve been finding that books no longer engage me. I haven’t been worked up by certain questions or problems. I am no longer sure of what I am aiming at. Perhaps I am just exhausted by relaxation. It will be a relief when break is over and I am teaching again. It will be a relief to encounter, once again, the provocation of students. Maybe then I’ll remember my questions. Right now I’m in the habit of burning everything.

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