Reflections on reading Jacques Derrida’s Spectres of Marx (21)

The Twenty-first night

Neither a borrower nor a lender be, because the line between the two is unstable, the one predicates the other, only in inaction can action be taken. The ability to cease transactions, to shut up shop, being at the centre of a movement set up to deny the law of supply and demand.
Luther had his own Epiphany, one that Marx would inherit via a German translation of Catholic protestations never accepted in the South but lionised in the North.

The great wars of religion have mutated into wars of consumer attraction. Political war, wars of nationalisms, ethnic war and wars on Global terrorism are now consumed within the all out capital war that sets out to dominate all economic life.

Let the grand correction commence. (37)

The old hog-headed monarchy still haunts the politics of the West. Tears of the masses shed at Diana’s funeral, falling like rain on the dormant seeds of feudalism.

The Queen is dead; long live the Queen. Long live the Queen; the Queen is dead.

Historically we are all trespassers in our own homes; the modern demand for home ownership, a fetish that mystifies our relationships with others and deviously skews our lives towards isolation and a fortress mentality; is but a brief candle that will be snuffed out by the winds of a coming socialism.

Marx has become a stranger to himself. He looks into the mirror and doesn’t recognise the features that stare out at him. His reflection appears out of synch and he makes small unpredictable movements with his mouth, he grimaces and watches this stranger attempt to do the same. He is out of step with his twin. He begins to recite from his own writings, but cannot remember exactly what he wrote, but this doppelgänger has no problem. Marx isn’t sure anymore who wrote the words that he is hearing spoken in his head. “Who wrote these words, him or me?” he asks. He will never know, all words when read become the property of the reader. Marx slowly realises he has had all his property stolen, every last word now looted by anarchists and revolutionaries.

37 A refrain taken from a Chris Wood CD, Handmade Life (R.U.F Records, 2009) the particular track is called: "The Grand Correction"