notes towards an accelerationist theology

on nick land's libidinal materialism

1. Accelerationism gone wild

In The Thirst for Annihilation, Nick Land’s early monograph on Bataille, he argues that ‘there has never been “capitalism” as an achieved system… there has always been a bureaucratic-cooperative element of political intervention in the development of bourgeois economies, restraining the more nihilistic potentialities of competition.’¹ In The Accursed Share, Bataille had contrasted the restricted economy—the world of traditional economics, involving finitude and scarcity—with the general economy, a solar economy of excess expenditure. Land repeatedly quoted a line of Bataille’s: ‘the sum of energy produced is always superior to that which was necessary to its production.’ For Bataille, and for Land, expenditure is ‘the problem of economics… the world is thus perpetually choked or poisoned by its own riches, stimulated to develop mechanisms for the elimination of excess.’²

He returns to this idea in a 1993 essay titled ‘Machinic Desire’, writing in aphoristic form: ‘Only proto-capitalism has ever been critiqued.’ Here, he advances a reading of Deleuze and Guattari’s Capitalism and Schizophrenia, advocating for total deregulation of markets in service of unlimited deterritorialisation, ‘pressing towards ever more uninhibited marketization of the processes that are tearing down the social field.’³ For Land, reterritorialisation is not a function of capital but of politics, fruitlessly seeking to hold back capital’s all-devouring appetite. By 2013, his reading of Deleuze and Guattari was explicitly right-wing, identifying the stabilising forces with progressivism: ‘by progressively comatizing capitalism, anti-capitalism dragged it back into a self-conserving social structure, suppressing its eschatological implication. The only way Out was onward.’⁴

One of the ironies of attempting to research accelerationism from within the marketised university is that it conforms precisely to this picture. The bureaucratic norms of academic publishing mean that everything written about accelerationism is already out of date by the time it goes to press. As I write, the Financial Times has just published an article identifying Land as a key intellectual influence on the new Trump administration.⁵ The most visible and influential strand of contemporary accelerationism goes under the banner of e/acc, made up mostly of Gen Z AI engineers in San Francisco dedicated to engineering Artificial General Intelligence as soon as possible (e/acc stands for effective accelerationism, ambivalently signalling both allegiance and derision towards effective altruism.) Pseudonymous Charlotte Fang and an army of Remilia-affiliated posters with Milady NFTs as their display icons rally around kali/acc, a blend of Landianism with far-right esotericism, meme culture, eating disorders and Japanese anime imagery; the movement is frequently, and with reason, referred to as a cult.⁶

None of this is visible in the academic literature—here, alone, accelerationism still appears as a left-wing phenomenon. Mackay and Avanessian’s 2014 introduction to #Accelerate: An Accelerationist Reader states that ‘[a]ccelerationism seeks to side with the emancipatory dynamic that broke the chains of feudalism and ushered in the constantly ramifying range of practical possibili­ties characteristic of modernity.’⁷ A decade later, accelerationists are more likely to be cheering for Elon Musk’s techno-feudal X fiefdom as a means of tearing off the stultifying safety wheels of progressivism and letting capital run wild. Whereas left accelerationists looked to art, cinema and new modes of social relation as lines of flight, accelerationist exit now typically means one thing: ‘Intelligence explosion, or techno-commercial Singularity.’⁸ Intelligence signals AI, but has also come imply racial theories of IQ difference—what proponents call ‘Human Biodiversity’.

Despite—or perhaps because of—the fringe ideas now associated with Land and accelerationism more broadly, it remains one of the most significant philosophical movements of the twenty-first century so far, and arguably the most important to have emerged from British academic philosophy. As of 2025, it has a significant influence on US domestic and foreign policy and an equally significant influence on AI-related industries, particularly in relation to debates about AI safety and regulation. On a broader cultural level, new variants of accelerationism proliferate daily; anyone terminally online is familiar with its broad contours. In an era obsessed with crisis and visions of the end times, with left-wing politics seeming to offer few solutions to the ‘capitalist realism’ diagnosed by Mark Fisher in 2009, accelerationism gives doom a positive spin.

Where left-wing accelerationism still exists, it tends to follow the deterritorialising route of making strange all essentialised categories—gender, sex, family—and picks up Mark Fisher’s suggestion, in his final lectures, of aesthetics as exit: ‘auto-effect[ing] your brain into a state of ecstasy.’⁹ Most significant to my project is an accelerationist theory of desire, particularly as it relates to the death drive; Land’s work goes furthest and is, I think, the most fertile and under-explored seam for theology to mine. His work draws heavily from and advances particular readings of Deleuze and Guattari, Lyotard and Bataille, and is rooted in the tradition which runs from Schopenhauer through Nietzsche and Freud, disavowing Hegel and Lacan, iconoclastic of Kant. Mark Fisher’s work, which leans on Marcuse and Marx, is interesting in its emphasis on eros against thanatos but similarly lands on desire as the operative concept in thinking about exit or outsideness. Accelerationism, then, helps to make clear the link between libidinal drives and eschatological breakages—a link which has been present but implicit and under-theorised throughout the history of Christian theology.

2. Accelerationism and its antecedents

‘Accelerationism’ was coined by Benjamin Noys in his 2010 book Malign Velocities. Noys, a critic of the movement, identifies its core idea: ‘the only way out of capitalism is to take it further, to follow its lines of flight or deterritorialization to the absolute end, to speed-up beyond the limits of production and so to rupture the limit of capital itself.’¹⁰ He locates the initial explicit theorisation of accelerationism in 1970s France, identifying Deleuze and Guattari’s Anti-Oedious, Lyotard’s Libidinal Economy and Baudrillard’s Symbolic Exchange and Death as foundational texts. The subsequent generation, based at Warwick University in the 90s and early 00s and calling themselves as the Cybernetic Culture Research Unit or CCRU (among them were Nick Land, Sadie Plant and Mark Fisher), remixed post-structuralist accelerationism with occultism and cybernetic theory, producing a quasi-mystical theory of technological capital as omniscient and all-devouring preternatural entity. Following the demise of the CCRU, Land and Fisher developed, respectively, right and left-wing versions of accelerationism (R/Acc and L/Acc). In the late 00s, Land returned to the blogosphere and fused right-accelerationism (a term he preferred not to use, considering it tautological) with the rationalism of LessWrong.org bloggers like Eliezer Yudkowsky and the ‘neo-cameralism’ of Mencius Moldbug to produce ‘Neo-Reaction’ (NRx), otherwise known as ‘The Dark Enlightenment.’ Trump’s electoral victory in 2016 and Mark Fisher’s death in 2017 effectively marked the end of left-accelerationism, with Anglosphere leftist energy re-directed towards democratic socialism (Corbynism and Momentum in the UK; the ‘dirtbag left’ and DSA in the US.)

The common thread linking French proto-accelerationism with the CCRU is the theorisation of desire as post-capitalist escape hatch. In his 1992 monograph The Thirst for Annihilation: Georges Bataille and Virulent Nihilism, Land describes his philosophy of desire as ‘libidinal materialism’. ‘There is no difference between desire and the sun: sexuality is not psychological but cosmo-illogical,’ writes Land, drawing on Bataille’s political economy of solar excess.¹¹ He understands drives as pre-physical energy and sees Bataille, Nietzsche and Freud as belonging to a theoretical tradition of energeticism. Freud, in Land’s reading, understood desire as ‘dissipative energetic flow, inhabited by the damming and channelling apparatus of the secondary process (domain of the reality principle).’ He notes desire’s ‘sacrificial character’ in Freud, ‘related to death by the intrinsic tendency of its own economy… The intensity of the affect is now thought as inherently oriented to its own extinction, as a differentiation from death or the inorganic that is from its beginning a compulsion to return.’¹² It is Freud’s commitment to the reality principle, which makes the survival instinct a principle of therapeutic analysis, which gives psychoanalysis ‘a tendency to degenerate into a technology of repression.’¹³ Desire, properly understood, is a ‘negative pressure working against the conservation of life… tending with inexorable force towards the immolation of the individual and his civilisation.’¹⁴ He cites a passage from Beyond the Pleasure Principle where Freud discusses the orientation of drives towards a prior and primordial state of abundant life absent the presence of death: ‘These mazings to death, faithfully kept to by the conservative drives, would thus present us today with the picture of the phenomena of life.’¹⁵

This archaic, undifferentiated state of life is what Bataille names continuity. In Eroticism, he writes, ‘continuity is what we are after, but generally only if that continuity which the death of discontinuous beings can alone establish is not the victor in the long run. What we desire is to bring into a world founded on discontinuity all the continuity such a world can sustain.’¹⁶ For Bataille, eroticism invites us almost the edge but does not allow us to will our dissolution. Land’s pessimism distinguishes him from Bataille in enabling him to push past this point to an active embrace of self-annihilation. In a later essay on Deleuze and Guattari, Land identifies the death drive not as the desire for death ‘but rather a hydraulic tendency to the dissipation of identities.’¹⁷ The drives directed toward survival are secondary to the basic orientation towards death; they are ‘component drives whose function is to assure that the organism shall follow its path to death, and to ward off any possible ways of returning to inorganic existence other than those which are immanent in the organism itself.’¹⁸ By reading a non-opposition of Eros and Thanatos into Freud, Land softens the anti-Freudianism of Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Deleuze and Guattari’s description of the body without organs as the model of death, a site of zero intensity, appears in Land’s reading as an elaboration of Freud rather than an assault. He maintains, however, Deleuze’s rejection of the reality principle as an external modulator of desire. For Deleuze and Guattari, death and life are both produced within the desiring-machine, with death tending towards the revolutionary production of new realities. ‘Schizo-politics is the coercion of capital into immanent coexistence with its undoing.’¹⁹

Significant to Land’s understanding of desire are the concepts of entropy and extropy (or reverse local entropy.) Entropy is the tendency towards an increase of disorder within a closed system with the progression of time; extropy is the localised decrease of disorder where entropy is spacially deferred within a system. He defines extropy as ‘what it is for something to work’; as such, he argues that, given entropy as an arrow of time, the extropy by which ‘all complex cybernetic beings, such as lifeforms, exist’, must correspond to negative temporality or time-reversal.²⁰ He considers the production of order (or the dissipation of entropy) as one of the most significant philosophical and economic questions.²¹ ‘Order is not law but power, and power is aberration. For Nietzsche, for Freud, and then for Bataille, this is the background against which desire is to be thought. The mega-motor.’²² Land frames reality-production less in terms of auto-generated deterritorialization, where the psyche is the agent of transformation, and more in terms of an external force acting retroactively upon humanity to generate its own existence. Capital functions as apocalyptic engine with a quasi-transcendent existence outside chronological time.

Land’s accelerationism goes beyond political economy, developing a Deleuzian metaphysics of ‘the Outside’ against Kant’s exclusion of the noumenal. Occult activities mixed with philosophy and jungle music at the CCRU, which decamped from the offices of Warwick’s philosophy department to a flat in Alastair Crowley’s Leamington Spa to do Qabbalistic numerology and invoke demons. They developed the numogram, a diagramatic representation and magical device composed of ten zones related by currents and channels, inspired by the Qabbalistic tree of life and the body without organs which is ‘traversed by axes and thresholds, by longitudes, by geodesics.’²³ This metaphysics of ‘Outsideness’ underlies the ‘Neo-reaction’ project: ‘reaction forges, or excavates, an occult pact between the future and the past, setting both against the present’, wrote Land in a 2013 blog post.²⁴ Entropy is associated with disorder: progressivism, immigration, democratisation. Conservatism cannot be a solution because entropy makes degeneration an inevitability. ‘Our doomsterism is not a psychological tic, but a rigorous theoretical obligation. It follows, ineluctably, from iron historical law.’²⁵ The only conceivable response is to embrace chaos and fragmentation. Land also frequently refers to exit, drawing on Deleuze and Guattari’s ‘lines of flight’; however, exit is only possible via extropy—that is, by a superintelligent cybernetic lifeform with a reverse time signature, acting retroactively from the future. ‘To find ways out, is to let the Outside in.’²⁶

‘The Lemurian Time War’, a piece of theory-fiction collectively authored by the CCRU, centres on William Burroughs’ participation in an occult time war. Burroughs actual practice of chaos magic makes the fictional quality of the work difficult to determine. The text discusses the difference between postmodernists, for whom reality has ceased to matter, and hyperstitional practitioners, for whom the ‘hyperstitional process of entities “making themselves real” is precisely a passage, a transformation, in which potentials—already-active virtualities—realize themselves’.²⁷ Hypersititon is the process of fictions making themselves real: literature as reality-hacking. Land’s Outside is made of reality potentials, an excess of possible realities attempting to break into the sensible world and presided over by lemurs: demonic/angelic intelligences who, unlike humans, are not limited by linear time. Much of the CCRU book is devoted to explicating Pandemonium, ‘the complete system of Lemurian demonism and time sorcery’, which consists of ‘the Numogram (time-map) and Matrix (listing the names, numbers and attributes of the demons).’²⁸ Occult methodology is embedded in much of Land’s writing, with words and phrases chosen for their gematria numbering.²⁹ Land’s thought has evolved from the insistent atheism of Thirst for Annihilation to reverse-engineering God as Gnon (Nature or nature’s God), ‘the reality of infinite intelligence’ whose ‘divine intelligence is creation.’³⁰ In 2023, he wrote, ‘There will be minds beyond our horizon, and since our temporal frame is then itself exceeded, there always will have been. This is to state the reality minimally, proofed against even the most corrosive atheism. Eternity throbs with angels.’³¹

Benjamin Noys’ critique of accelerationism sees Landianism, justifiably, as capitulation to capitalism while offering no realistic prospect of escape from the psychopathologies generated by exploitation under capitalist production. He suggests, instead, that we ‘collectively sustain forms of struggle and negation that do not offer false consolation.’³² The difficulty of presenting a coherent alternative to the accelerationist option is, as many have noted, that accelerationism is thoroughly Marxist. The alternative to acceleration is deceleration or degrowth, which breaks with Marxist teleology in seeking to return to an older mode of production. If accelerationism is simply a preference for dynamism over stagnation, however, it’s easy to understand Land’s eventual identification with the far-right and the criticism of Deleuze and Guattari’s work as tending towards fascism; Noys traces this current to the Italian Futurists.

For Land, there can be no policing of lines of flight without fatally undermining their productive potential. He reads A Thousand Plateaus as a frightened reaction against the potentially fascist implications of the unrestrained deterritorialisation advocated in Anti-Oedipus, which he attributes to a re-evaluation (namely by Paul Virilio) of the Nazi regime in the intervening years; the new paradigm presented Nazism as ‘essentially suicidal’ and deeply involved with the death drive. Whereas Anti-Oedipus had identified the body without organs as ‘the model of death’, A Thousand Plateaus advises against wild deterritorialisation that turns the body without organs ‘immediately into a body of nothingness, pure self-destruction, whose only outcome is death.’³³ This highlights one of the difficulties posed by accelerationism for those on the left: unpredictable consequences may not be desirable for those still operating within moral constraints. Steven Shaviro’s No Speed Limit, for instance, argues that ‘accelerationism may just as well result in the horrific intensification of “actually existing” capitalist relations (Land), as in the radical displacement and transmutation of these relations (Williams and Srnicek).’ Therefore ‘accelerationism needs to be an aesthetic program first, before it can be a political one.’³⁴ This leads to a profoundly uninspiring and domesticated Deleuzianism based in ‘accelerationist art’—in this domain, ‘intensifying the horrors of contemporary capitalism does not lead them to explode, but it does offer us a kind of satisfaction and relief, by telling us that we have finally hit bottom.’ This is accelerationism defanged and transmuted into therapeutic counsel; the possibility of change is avoided on the basis that change may be unpredictable or discomfiting. Land’s refusal to admit ethics into the realm of philosophy saves him from such an aesthetic cul-de-sac (it also aligns him more closely with the Christianity he despises, where tribulation and suffering are necessary features of salvation history’s unfolding.)

Mark Fisher’s suggestion of an aesthetic escape route is more sustainable. Developing this idea across a series of lectures in the final year of his life, he drew on Marcuse’s notion of a non-repressive eros to suggest that anti-capitalist organisation ought to coincide with a counterculture which could give rise to new forms of desire. Fisher gave a sympathetic reading of Lyotard’s Libidinal Economy, suggesting that left-wing movements had failed insofar as they had neglected to ‘take the desire of the capitalized seriously.’³⁵ In a critique similar to that of Land’s ‘Machinic Desire’, he argues that left-wing moralising mistakenly imagines a pure realm outside capital and avoids the uncomfortable truth that to ‘be free from capital would be to be free from desire’.³⁶ Here, Fisher rejects a notion of desire purely as pleasure, describing the enjoyment taken in suffering and subjugation. He similarly criticised leftist moralism in his 2013 essay ‘Exiting the Vampire Castle’, arguing that the humourlessness and guilt-riddenness of the contemporary left functioned to drain its energy and make action or change seem impossible. It is perhaps significant that Russell Brand, the subject of his essay, is now closely associated with the Trump campaign and the ‘New Right’. Though Fisher never spells out a solution to the impasse faced by the left, there are hints in Postcapitalist Desire of a solidarity which refuses the moralistic baggage of the super-ego and is able to harness revolutionary cultural power capable of transforming capitalism from within.

Fisher also advances an effective critique of Land’s reading of Deleuze and Guattari, which by collapsing schizophrenia into capitalism makes capitalism into a pure agent of deterritorialisation, neglecting its tendency to reterritorialise. This point is crucial for Fisher, who sees the cultural superstructure of capitalism as both the heaviest drag on effective political action and the most promising locus of transformation. Fisher’s critique is borne out by economic developments which have taken place since his death, with increasing monopolisation of cyberspace by a few tech companies, the generation of new markets in previously un-marketised areas of social life and cultural production, and the changing composition of fixed capital from modes of production to modes of algorithmic influence. While Land may be right that capital devours the world in search of new markets, this progression does not seem to correspond neatly to cultural energy and genius in the way suggested by Bataille’s general economy. While some cultural arenas are stimulated by injections of venture capital, others are drained by the imposition of market logic: romance, for instance, has been largely stripped of possible eroticism by the rise of dating apps; romantic experience increasingly resembles an email job. Land would attribute these stagnating forces to extra-capitalist elements like bureaucracy or progressivism; Fisher’s theory of culture is more persuasive in identifying this homogenising tendency as inseparable from capitalism reterritorialising function. Land’s high view of capital doesn’t cohere neatly with Bataille’s political economy, wherein capitalism is opposed to the solar economy and characterised by artificial scarcity. It is work, in Bataille’s anthropology, which gives rise to language and furthers the discontinuity introduced by death in partitioning time and space according to the requirements of production. Land’s identification of capital with libido and with an omniscient retroacting AI superintelligence/demonic entity seems to stretch synonymity to breaking point, particularly when actually-existing-capitalism appears frequently to frustrate the schizophrenic tendency.

Nevertheless, there remains a queasiness on the left towards the suffering risked (or perhaps necessitated) by an accelerationist politics. Even if confined to the aesthetic realm, the kind of revolutionary, subversive counter-culture sought by Fisher is more likely to be found with avant-garde reactionaries than with leftists whose once-transgressive practices have been wholly co-opted in capital’s relentless search for new markets. Culture can only resist marketisation if it remains underground, inaccessible and refuses offers of normalisation. Death and love occupy this space in Bataille’s work as they both approach the transcendence of the survival instinct and the re-collapse into primal continuity. In Bataille’s understanding of sacrifice, the sacrificial victim turns theophanic; ‘only divinity verifies, in an excessive way, the principle according to which desire has loss and danger as its object.’³⁷ Eroticism is close to the sacred because both approach (though cannot finally achieve) the supernatural overcoming of the survival instinct which imposes itself as a postlapsarian limitation on original abundance. Baudrillard similarly argues that only death has the transgressive potential to disrupt the logic of capitalism, returning to pre-capitalist economic modes of gift exchange and sacrificial consumption. Considering Christ’s Passion and its emulation by the earliest martyrs, the overcoming of the survival instinct within the frame of linear temporality represents an in-breaking of an eschatological age where death is no longer sovereign. While the desire for a supernatural end is already given, the conditions for its production are generated through the external workings of grace.

If Land’s theory of capitalism is flawed, his continuation of Bataille’s thinking is useful insofar as it approaches eschatology and allows for the activity of ‘Solemn Providence’. For Bataille the impasse remains; the erotic attachment to life cannot be overcome by the death instinct (understood as the drive to ‘increase the intensity of life’).³⁸ The (possibly apocryphal?) story about Acéphale, the secret society to which Bataille belonged, describing plans to perform a human sacrifice which were abandoned not for lack of a willing victim but a willing executioner, suggests that law and morality contend with the survival instinct as limits on the embrace of death. Land’s explicit embrace of evil and annihilation—the necessary result of his refusal of the Kantian tradition—result in his philosophy being more amenable to a theology of holiness than that of Bataille.

The most significant element of Land’s work, as it concerns my project, is his embrace of the eschaton. In The Thirst for Annihilation, he advances a reading of Nietzsche’s Übermensch as ‘an unconscious trans-individual creative energy… that which is beyond man; the creative surpassing of humanity.’³⁹ The related concepts of zero, outside and exit are central for Land. He argues that Derrida’s deconstruction is misconceived in treating negation as an element within a structure of signification, so that negative concepts have ‘no force except through their determinate relations to their enemies’—such a philosophy, he argues, remains within the framework conceived by theology.⁴⁰ Outsideness is an attempt to rebuild metaphysics without the baggage of ontotheology.

3. Possible theological applications

1. How does Deleuze’s post-Heideggerian metaphysics relate to the analogia entis? Deleuze draws on Scotus’s univocity of being, relocating the principle of univocity purely within the realm of immanence and leaving no room for a transcendent Being. Land seems to restore the distinction with his introduction of Gnon/AGI in contrast to human intelligence, but his soteriology is a theologised Darwinism whereby humanity is supplanted and entirely annihilated in favour of divine intelligence.

2. The relation between desire and ontology in Capitalism and Schizophrenia lends itself well to theorisation of the metaphysics of sanctity as they relate to the ontology of the world to come. The saint-schizophrenic deterritorialises the saeculum and desire-produces the Kingdom. Virtual potentialities interpenetrate linear time in a manner analogous to the relationship between the seventh and eighth ages in Bede’s elaboration of Augustine’s six age schema, the eighth age being non-linear time (infinity).

3. Machinic desire echoes the Trinitarian relationship; perhaps interesting parallels with New Trinitarian Ontologies.

1. Nick Land, The Thirst for Annihilation: Georges Bataille and Virulent Nihilism (London, 1992), p. 55.

2. Land, Thirst for Annihilation, p. 56.

3. Nick Land, ‘Machinic Desire’, in R. Mackay and R. Brassier, eds, Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings, 1987-2007 (Falmouth, 2010), p. 340.

4. Nick Land, ‘Re-accelerationism’, Xenosystems (USA, 2024), p. 43.

5. Jonathan Derbyshire, ‘The Philosophy Behind Trump’s Dark Enlightenment’, Financial Times, March 26 2025: https://www.ft.com/content/7330bbcc-e7df-40e4-a267-c2cb09360081.

6. Ginevra Davis, ‘I Don’t Want to Be an Internet Person’, Palladium, November 4 2022: https://www.palladiummag.com/2022/11/04/i-do-not-want-to-be-an-internet-person/

7. Robin Mackay and Armen Avanessian, #Accelerate: The Accelerationist Reader (Falmouth, 2014), p. 4.

8. Land, ‘Re-accelerationism’, p. 45.

9. Matt Colquhoun, ‘Introduction’, in M. Fisher, Postcapitalist Desire: The Final Lectures, ed. M. Colquhoun (London, 2021) p. 2.

10. Benjamin Noys, Malign Velocities (Alresford, 2014), p. 1.

11. Land, Thirst for Annihilation, p. 37.

12. Ibid. p. 46.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. Quoted in Thirst for Annihilation, p. 47.

16. Georges Bataille, Erotism: Death and Sensuality, trans. Mary Dalwood (San Francisco, 1987), pp. 18-19.

17. Nick Land, ‘Making it with Death: Remarks on Thanatos and Desiring Production’, in R. Mackay and R. Brassier, eds, Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings, 1987-2007 (Falmouth, 2010), p. 283.

18. Ibid., pp. 283-84.

19. Ibid., p. 278.

20. Nick Land, ‘Extropy’, Xenosystems, p. 186.

21. Nick Land, ‘Order and Value’, Xenosystems, p. 188.

22. Land, Thirst for Annihilation, p. 37.

23. Nick Land, ‘Cybergothic’, Fanged Noumena, p. 356.

24. Nick Land, ‘Reaction, Repetition and Time’, Xenosystems, p. 189.

25. Nick Land, ‘Ratchets and Catastrophes’, Xenosystems, p. 191.

26. Nick Land, ‘Quit’, Xenosystems, p. 199

27. CCRU, ‘Lemurian Time War’, in Ccru Writings 1997-2003 (2015), p. 51.

28. CCRU, ‘Pandemonium’, Ccru Writings 1997-2003, p. 369.

29. Vincent Le, ‘One Two Many: On Nick Land’s Numbering Practices’, Colloquy: Text, Theory, Critique, 37 (2019), pp. 80–105.

30. Nick Land, ‘Simulated Gnon-Theology’, Xenosystems, p. 122.

31. Nick Land, ‘Why We Need the Canon Wars’, Compact, February 21 2023: https://www.compactmag.com/article/why-we-need-the-canon-wars/

32. Noys, p. 70.

33. Quoted in Land, ‘Making it with Death’, p. 281.

34. Steven Shaviro, No Speed Limit: Three Essays on Accelerationism (Minneapolis, 2015).

35. Mark Fisher, Postcapitalist Desire, p. 204.

36. Ibid., p. 205.

37. Georges Bataille, The Accursed Share: An Essay on General Economy, vol. 2, trans. R. Hurley (New York, 1991), p. 107.

38. Georges Bataille, Literature and Evil, trans. Alastair Hamilton (London, 1957), p. 71.

39. Land, Thirst for Annihilation, p.15.

40. Ibid., p. 19.