From: "Edward Moore" <monsieurtexteem-AT-hotmail.com>
Subject: Re: Je (:) cri(se) dehor [...] et(re) apres?
Date: Tue, 11 Aug 1998 08:23:20 PDT



What a pleasant sur-pri$e to receive an echoing answer from Ariosto 
t/here! 

>Salvation? holy shit Edward, your getting pretty serious. Personally, I
>thought we were going to tell jokes and talk about sacred laughter. 

I am not serious at all ... speaking in & through my inherent 'idiocy', 
my 'conceptual persona' of raging _soter_ (and here I am thinking of a 
section in Deleuze and Guattari's _What is Philosophy?_), I am seeking 
that 'leap of faith', that blind arrogance, perhaps, that allows one to 
trust purely in a concept as obscurely fleeting as the 'autonomy of 
thought' (Breton).  How can one pin the tail on that particular donkey, 
when, like a flashlight in a dark room, one only sees what one's own 
thought illuminates?  For thought to be truly autonomous, it must be 
capable of invading the dark space(s) as well ... right Luke! :-)

As for the gnome, and gnomicism ... that little man with the cloak and 
the wine, who stays at home (I am thinking of an old Pink Floyd song), 
finds his thought's salvation by living in a hole in the ground (kind of 
makes me think of Bataille, all dripping roots and solar annulii viewed 
from the vantage-point of a pre-ordained grave) ... then there is the 
patronym and the matronym, the ebb and flow of the I, experiencing 
despair and temporal conquest in rapid linear succession. That 
unbegotten Father, then, that Gnostic (not gnomic) persona, yields to 
the idiot who leaps, when the time is right, through fields in the 
sunlight.

Outward ornamentation, then, Baroque hylicity, pre-veils (over) flighty 
poetry: this is language.  A mo(ve)ment before any other -- yet a murmur 
is always sensed beyond all that presents itself, beyond all 
presentiment.  Salvation may be likened to "the ability to speak on any 
subject whatsoever" without regard to style, meaning, syntax ... in 
short, all hylic hindrance (see Breton, _Manifesto of Surrealism_).

Sacred laughter is idiocy in earnest, no longer forgetful of its origin 
in the ineffable ............................................
....................................................................
....................................................................


~~ Edward











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