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sadoeuphemistJonny Devoid-of-Flesh is pure abstraction. Jonny does not exist so long as there are those of us capable of conceptualizing him, entombing him in symbol and metaphor. Jonny is the end of all things, the end of the identification and individualization of things, the end of all ontological distinction. Jonny is Apocalypse. Jonny is the Worst Thing in the World.
Apocalypse, from the Greek meaning Uncovering. Revelation. The lifting of the veil to reveal the hidden truth of the world that suddenly brings the entirety of our existence up till then into sharp and stark relief. The world as it is now works, beautifully and hideously in its slow and implacable grind, all its parts labelled and mislabelled and slotted into impossibly complex interlocking systems. We squabble and vie against each other, socialism vs capitalism, democracy vs fascism, entombing the world bit by bit in flesh until we can look out upon it and see nothing but ourselves. The world doesn't make sense without us to perceive it, to define it, to render it into forms of ideology. Jonny's the end of all that, the abandonment of all delusion. At the Apocalypse there will be no more separations, merely the all-encompassing realization that the world makes sense and that only in the moment of its fulfillment do we finally understand what all our tumultuous broken lives were for.
Jonny Devoid-of-Flesh isn't here yet, Jonny will never be here, that's the worst thing about him. Jonny doesn't cast a shadow. On the Day of the End of the World, we will peel back the veil and discover nothing new, reveal only our own haggard faces staring back.
Pray to Jonny. Abandon thought. Abandon flesh. Hollow out your skull and make room for him to exist. Jonny Devoid-of-Flesh has no ears to hear our prayers, no lips to speak the truth. Pray to Jonny. You're only ever talking to yourself.
Apocalypse, from the Greek meaning Uncovering. Revelation. The lifting of the veil to reveal the hidden truth of the world that suddenly brings the entirety of our existence up till then into sharp and stark relief. The world as it is now works, beautifully and hideously in its slow and implacable grind, all its parts labelled and mislabelled and slotted into impossibly complex interlocking systems. We squabble and vie against each other, socialism vs capitalism, democracy vs fascism, entombing the world bit by bit in flesh until we can look out upon it and see nothing but ourselves. The world doesn't make sense without us to perceive it, to define it, to render it into forms of ideology. Jonny's the end of all that, the abandonment of all delusion. At the Apocalypse there will be no more separations, merely the all-encompassing realization that the world makes sense and that only in the moment of its fulfillment do we finally understand what all our tumultuous broken lives were for.
Jonny Devoid-of-Flesh isn't here yet, Jonny will never be here, that's the worst thing about him. Jonny doesn't cast a shadow. On the Day of the End of the World, we will peel back the veil and discover nothing new, reveal only our own haggard faces staring back.
Pray to Jonny. Abandon thought. Abandon flesh. Hollow out your skull and make room for him to exist. Jonny Devoid-of-Flesh has no ears to hear our prayers, no lips to speak the truth. Pray to Jonny. You're only ever talking to yourself.
