The Domain of the Known is a disease and I think we can all agree on that! It’s a disease that we all know only too well. We know it with an intimacy that goes beyond mere words; it is a frightening intimacy, an intimacy that goes beyond the everyday realm of the five senses, we might say – it goes deeper even than that. We are, every last one of us, intimate with this most insidious of diseases and yet – of course – we pretend to the very best of our ability that we aren’t. What an extraordinarily peculiar business this human existence is – we all suffer equally from this utterly appalling disease and yet we pretend, both to ourselves and everyone else, that we know nothing of it!
I suppose that, strictly speaking, the Domain of the Known is not itself the disease – the disease is us inhabiting this pestilential domain as if it were the only world there is. That’s the disease in a nutshell and what a disease it is! What a truly hideous affliction. There is nothing more hideous than the known, if only we were actually able to turn to look at it. There’s nothing more stomach-turning – nothing more sickening. To see the Domain of the Known for what it is is to look into the face of pure horror; that’s really all we need to say on the subject. The Domain of the Known is the death of all that is good in us; it’s the life which was never allowed to happen. It’s the life never could happen because it didn’t have a chance. Can you think of anything sadder than a life which is never allowed to happen?
I can, as it happens. I could think of something far sadder than that. What is sadder than a life that can never happen is ‘a life that can never happen which we nevertheless pretend can happen’, which we nevertheless pretend is happening. What’s sadder than the life that is not allowed to happen is the life which never can happen and which we then place on a pedestal and play obsequious lip service to every single day of our lives. I could go on in this vein indefinitely of course but there is little point in that. There is a form of intimacy that commonly exists between those suffering from this particular disease however and we must not fail to mention it. We certainly must not fail to mention it. Most certainly we must not. This is ‘the disease that brings spurious intimacy’ and this just goes to show that there is no such thing as a curse that someone somewhere isn’t busy capitalising on. No matter how miserable and wretchedly unhappy our situation is, you can be sure that someone somewhere is reaping the advantage. So here we all are sharing the same cramped living quarters and whether it’s fit for purpose or not is a moot point. No one said anything about ‘fit for such purpose’ – that was never the point, that was never the idea at all. There is nothing more hideous than the known after all and I don’t care who hears me say it. The Known is the nightmare that we are all afraid to face and there’s no politer way to say it than that. Politeness isn’t everything after all; we all spend far too much time being polite in my opinion. Being polite isn’t going to save us from being fucked over, after all.
As I have just said, it’s not the known itself that is the hideous disease but rather it is the habit we have of inhabiting the Domain of the Known as if it were the only world there was, is, or ever could be. What a filthy habit that is! What a downright loathsome and scurrilous habit this is – even the most neglected of houseplants will be granted a little bit of soil to stretch out its roots in but not us – we are expected to make do squashed together like sixty million generic peas in a pod in the very same over-heated frying pan. We’d hop out of it if we could but we can’t. We are – every last one of us – intimate with this most insidious of diseases and yet we make out that we know nothing about it. We’d protest until we’re green in the face that we know nothing about it – we’d protest right up to the bitter end. We know nothing at all about it, or so we claim. We’d claim anything you see; we don’t care what we claim – it’s all the one as far as we’re concerned. We make a virtue out of our cowardice and we’re as proud as punch. We all band together to say how great it is and if we come across anyone who doesn’t agree with us then we will kick thirty types of multicoloured shyte out of them so we will. I’m not joking when I say that either. We all band together to say how great this thing that we have made – this precious ‘consensus reality’ – is and we’ll ram it down the throat of any poor bastard we come across! We like to spread the disease you see – we want to make sure that everyone else is just as much in the shit as we are. Of course we do – everyone wants company in hell, isn’t that true?