We crave order, a map of the buzzing confusion we call existence. So we dream up these categories: objective, subjective, asubjective. Objective? Pure, unadulterated fact, cold and hard like a chrome thermometer. But is this “temperature” just another code word slapped on the writhing mess of the real? Sure, the reading might be objective, a number on a calibrated scale. But hot or cold? That’s pure subjective juice, baby. Cooked by your own personal wiring.

Then there’s the subjective. The world funnels through your own meat grinder of experience, spitting out a kaleidoscope of interpretations. A movie, one man’s terror trip, another’s laugh riot. The text, a Rorschach dripping with the inkblots of your own psyche. You paint the world with the colors of your own history, turning a neutral movie into a personal horror show.

But “asubjective”? Now that’s a word that sends shivers down your spine. A language virus, mutating beyond the grasp of the single self. Imagine a narrative that shatters, explodes into a million fractured voices, a stream of consciousness with no owner. No “I” to pin it on. Or maybe it’s a language stripped bare, devoid of meaning. Nonsensical elements slither across the page, a narrative maze with no exit. Pynchon, the word-alchemist, might be cooking up this brew, dismantling the meaning factories, leaving you adrift in a sea of ambiguity. that’s a word that slithers out of the shadows. Maybe it’s a place beyond the self altogether. A language that doesn’t give a damn about your feelings. A narrative explodes into a million fractured voices, a stream of consciousness with no owner’s manual. Imagine a kaleidoscope shattering reality into a million fragmented viewpoints. Meaning? A mirage shimmering in the textual desert. This asubjectivity could also be a prankster, the author tossing nonsensical elements and disjointed narratives into the mix, building a labyrinth with no escape.

Objective, subjective, asubjective – just labels slapped on a writhing reality. Remember, language is a virus, a control system. These categories? Just another roach motel, trapping meaning in its sticky grid. So next time you see these words, keep a healthy dose of paranoia handy. Reality’s a lot messier than any label can handle. See, “asubjective” is a shape-shifter, its meaning a constant negotiation. A reminder that even the driest terms are crawling with unexpected complexities.