Date: Thu, 23 Jan 1997 19:23:20 -0800 From: Lucio Privitello <lucioangelo-AT-earthlink.net> Subject: MB: Signing on s/ponge/s Our speech is signing; with/awl words within the s/ponge, as an enraptured gesture of a release registering the throw as the froth of Apelles' once passionately painted hors(e). In what the later Pyrrhonists tell us; and through what of these signing now, as the Hegelian "mind", twice churned ex-sisted to "bone"; we find the letters of 'gallow speech' as the 'spectacle of the scaffold's' littered disturbance. Yet, there, we can trace upon this s/ponge, now a "sop for Cerberus", the revolutions of those around Kojeve's coursing, and again find the "strange surplus" of papers we fling to the ground on our "Sundays". For those few who structure what bore, from fraise to fraise, not only Novalis, but (w)holy Holderlin, who's _Empedocles_ taught him to dance in "Patmos": "Hinuberzugehn und wiederzukehren"(To cross and to return). And Hegel, who's name Zimmer's Scardanelli heard, is it from he that we should proceed into the phenomenology of boredom? "Man is not a Being that _is_: he is a Nothingness that _nihilates_ through the negation of Being." "Only the Nihilist that _remains alive_ is interesting." (Kojeve, _Introduction to the reading of Hegel_, p.53-54). _Pollen_, like dust, or Kashmir, a weave which comes closest to dust, writes "The true letter (der Brief)....[:]its own nature, poetic." (# 34 Novalis). Is this knotted to what Klee says is "a site of cosmogenesis", the "between dimensions", read from what Deleuze "..folds in the Soul"? There, even where shadows nearly impossibly rest from the baroque two-poled ellipse, and from ears who heard Holderlin fling these s/ponges, we find the Wurzburg nights of Schelling's 'God'. (see, Zizek, "The Indivisible Remainder_, 1996). Grazie a te Don. Aber zuweilen liebt auch klares Auge den Schatten (But at times the clear eye lovingly too seeks the shadows) Holderlin, _Bread and Wine_, II). - "..la lumiere devenait folle, la clarte avait perdu tout bon sens;...."(Blanchot, _La Folie du Jour_). port d'boue, Lucio Angelo Privitello
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