Subject: Re: lasso parabilis ovis
Date: Fri, 23 Jan 1998 14:35:05 -0500 (EST)


> 
>      This got me thinking about becoming a nomos onto myself, carrying
> myself away till I become a stranger or a foriegner. But who recognizes
> who anyway?  Would that not spoil our sovereignty? Perhaps somewhere we
> come across the same terrain mapped out by Hegel but go in a different
> direction, into another desert that even filled with all our gadgets is
> emptied with a glance.

It would spoil our sovEreign(is)ty, as Curtis first put it I think,
because in recognition what occurs if not a comparison of what is foreign
with the familiar as collected in memory and as constituting a sublating
identification, an interested sacrifice. In this regards Bataille's
sacrificial play can be read as a displacement of Hegel's sacrifice which
is always interested in an advantage, in receiving something back and so
never works out for no-thingness, never allows and indeed closes off an
event-appropriation (Ereignis) -- a stream of chance. Bataille's sacrifice
is a sacrifice of this classical notion of sacrifice. For more, there is the
first chapter of Derrida's _Given Time_ which I will comment on in due time.


> 
>      Perhaps distraction is not the opposite of concern but where it
> begins, with the desire to get away, with wanting to forget. But
> forgetting comes about better actively, as Nietzsche reminds us. Isn't
> that precisely passion?
> 
hmmm... yes passion maybe because active forgetting it seems is an
enduring, a persisting in the t/here... in a cessation of thinking growing
big with what remains in the future, what is _not yet_ here but there in
the moment you begin to read from which I am forever cut off. How so cut
off? Because I can't think the future in any way,shape, or form and so
must feel along without eyes staying near a surface I can touch? there,
habitually without depth a line goes flat like coke does sometimes and
what emerges but the real, the worldhood of the world. Active forgetting
then is an attunement (befindlichheit) explored by Heidegger at any rate
through both anxiety and boredom. Question: and that space of a possible
fruition that for now remains empty how does it "link" to Blanchot's space
of literature and Mallarme's blank page (symbol of the ruins of memory?) ?


>   But when we 'distribute _ourselves_ in
> > an open space,' as Deleuze puts it, in "a space which is unlimited, or
> > at least without precise limits", as in our collective lurking and
> > visitations to other lists, for example, we can at best 'sea-saw' in the
> > margins of our limits, 'gest-you-r-touching' responsibility 'on the one
> > hand' and anguish 'on the other', if distinctions are so forced.

virtual space then is an 'expression' on the verge of having something to
say? at least this maybe so insofar as the screen becomes just that, an
active filter of information, a fogetting in an encryption indicated by
that which is there to be read in the clamor of the sea, in a wave of
phrases stirring foam without quite raising a voice other than the
clamor... clamor... in which I am drowning.

and with chance a shadow will agitate another to effortless action (wu-wei)

Ariosto Tzu




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