Agori-logics, Beef of presence and Guideline to treat fairly your gods What you are wandering in the desert for, if you are searching for something?

To the abundance of metaphysical biodiverstiy, Quine was used to say he preferred arid desert of a consistent logic of references. This remark intends to detox your imagination from entities generated by a fervid, feverish imagination. “Things” like unicorns, bold king of France in a republic period, caffeine distinct from teaine, the dreams of Ulysses, the healthcare problem of characters from a joke, but also entities with a more central role in our life, like god, the self or the family. Quine believed that it was better to have an arid world rather than a universe inhabited by any sort of fictional problem. We actually tend to endorse a universe over-inflated of such entities. Nonetheless the monastic sharpness of arid desert attract our lustful wisdom.

In fact we inject overdoses of fiction only to achieve the same objective of Quine. The Agori are a sect of Hinduism; they practice a very hardcore set of rituals: basically they do the opposite of what a regular saint should do. They live in cemetery, amongst the dead one, they eat human flesh, they engage sex with women during their period; in brief, they go the other way. We suspect that in a desert we are looking the same Quine is looking for: nothing. But we believe that to pursue nothing it's better to over-stimulate your mind to consume the fervour of being there.

You see , we are animals, we are livign organism and we are projected to look for something. Always. But given the extreme complexity of our cognitive architecture we get lost in our own projection. It's not that bad, I admit. But sometimes we are overwhelmed and fooled by them. Again, being fooled by ghosts of your imagination is quite entertaining. I have very very skilful ghosts haunting me. Some full of anger and rage, tormenting my poor consciousness like flames of hell. Others, super-funny stupid clowns, who tickle childishly my too serious self-awareness. Yet they are fictions. As they are god, self and humanity.

If you go to the desert, don't worship the joyful, scary emptiness of the equivalence between to be and not to be.

This is why I'm quite pissed off (well, in the spare time between horrendous monsters torturing my ego and the tiny, weenie-beanie puffy creatures who preside the normativity of my thinking), when people worship our alien origin, the virginity of Mary, the almightiness of gods too Spiderman to be cool. And the soul-searching in the desert. See, you must be a very poor believer, lacking any imagination, if you need these sort of things to arouse your spirituality. Look: alien intelligence designing ours? Are you nutters? We come from the combinatory permutation of hydrogenate carbon, which ignite a self-catalysis. We are the avatar of life, which emanate in fish as well as in dinosaurs. Our current posture is the result of a revolution, when lizardish beings started to walk on their back, producing the dorso-ventral re-organization of the vertebrates. Do you need human-like superior lords of creation? Really? And in the virginity of Mary: for Christ sake! It's just a statement about the value of children: when you give birth to another being, blossom of uselessness variety of combination, you can re-set your status as before having impure sex. It was just a poetic way in the old times to take it easy and celebrate a new life. And inviting to not bother the actual socio-juridical circumstance of conception. Now you are looking for the hymen of a demi-goddess you pretend is the biological mother of the lord of the physical laws? What a lack of tact and respect. Holy inappropriate.

Finally you go to the desert/ the monastery / the ocean to meet your true self, the uncontaminated entity to call “real ego”. Man, it's in the bottom of every pint, if you stare carefully. In the desert you should breath the lack of everything. There is nothing in the desert, that's what we are looking for. Every time you search for inspiration, you are asking for the beef. Dismiss your white clothes, the face in the pose of a sanctum prayer and join us in the desert. “Outside we are stoned, immaculately”. Outside, in the arid lack of any presence, with me, Quine and Jimbo Morrison, there is the logical answer to your being there. Be a poet, respect your gods and let them go, with your self, consciousness and greed for the beef of presence.