File spoon-archives/lyotard.archive/lyotard_2001/lyotard.0104, message 51


Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2001 21:19:17 -0500
From: Mary Murphy&Salstrand <ericandmary-AT-earthlink.net>
Subject: The parasite


steve:

before we download our minds unto the hard drive, consider what SHE has
to say:

"note that the complexity of that intelligence exceeds that of the most
sophicated logical systems, since it's another type of thing entirely. 
As a material ensemble, the human body hinders the separability of this
intelligence, hinders its exile and therefore survival.  But at the same
time the body, our phenomenological, mortal, perceiving body is the only
available analogon for thinking a certain complexity of thought."

(p.22 "The Inhuman")

This is not noise, but perhaps the attempt to articulate the noise, to
make manifest what the communication tend to hide, repress, obliterate.

Or as Don DeLillo says:

"We simply walk toward the sliding doors.  Waves and radiation.  Look at
how well-lighted everything is.  The place is sealed off,
self-contained.  It is timeless.  Another reason why I think of Tibet.
Dying is an art in Tibet.  A priest walks in, sits down, tells the
weeping relatives to get out and has the room sealed.  Doors, windows
sealeed.  He has serious business to see to.  Chants, numberology,
horoscopes, recitations.  Here we don't die, we shop.  But the
difference is less marked than you think."

(White Noise p.38)

We are surrounded by noise.  And this noise is inextinguishable. It is
outside - it is the world itself - and it is inside, produced by our
living body.  We are the noises of the world, we cannot close our door
to their reception, and we evolve, rolling in this incalculable swell.
We are hot, burning with life; and the hearths of this temporary esctasy
send out a truceless tumult from their innumerable functions."

(The Parasite - Serres p126)


   

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