File spoon-archives/deleuze-guattari.archive/deleuze-guattari_1996/d-g_Jun.96, message 209


Date: Sun, 23 Jun 1996 23:19:33 -0700
From: semuta-AT-sirius.com (JEFFREY  R SCOTT)
Subject: Re: Jullien


  I would be extremely
>interested in finding a way in which philosophy can take leave of the
>concept, without depending on or falling back into hierarchy - and would
>genuinely appreciate suggestions.
>
>Phil (once again)

eye would suggest that hindu philosophy, in its iconic representation
(artistic/somatic) manifests equivalence, fragmentation, and textural
accumulation of meaning, most "magical" or "shamanistic" art, encoded with
masks, invisible writing, passwords, and vortex, do this as well: an
aesthetic of intensity, between a multidimensional drug trade, the being of
rusting terrorism, and the ritualistic blinding of the slain bear. This is
the guorue with a dagger, aged with sand and sun, moist and brittle.

We lie in a pool of organs, perhaps not so dissimilar to the slaughterhouse
floor. Everything has been error assembled and veins thus flow with
digestive fluid and gall, membrames stretched without lattice , swelling
with neon gasses and twitching with the neuro-chemical shock of intensity,
as consciousness bleeds through border and definition, becoming again the
vacuous emission of the unconscious, immanent within all aspects of
identity, the latter known as emission, experienced as flow.

Before, dehydrated, floating in a river of freeze dried oil dust, the
embalmed corpse traces the path of a gear, pinwheel orbit, disembodied
storage of consciousness. Seized by a single ray of light, drawn up and the
void rippled, animate. The descent would route parasitically upon the
wires, and even the sub-atomic paths, imagined soaked with meaning and
wonder.

Sculpted metal, ironically mocking the excess of abstract expressionism,
grows through the membranes, the puctures coagulate and scar, singed a
sooty, electro-black. Pulsing between the points like a stobe, we see a
vine, leaves shaded with anaconda, rapidly unfolding into flower. The eye
slides back into a crevasse, and darkness returns, only the blue and pink
sketches of imagination.



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