January 18, 2009

The eye of the other remains indestructible. The hollowing out of anguish is the face of nothing. The incompetence of philosophy twists, to be apprehended. It finds its only stable object—death. Throw them so that they remain within that historical enclosure. Approach the hysterical body of the excluded. In a certain sense, thought means nothing. The unending and uncertain identifications disappear during the first elucidation of the problem. If the world could only be rounder. Every time a man touches on those areas he interferes with corporeality. I propose to you another’s presence is the self’s very origin. The former is already a closed heterogeneous state. Sit by the fire and nourish your imagination upon her. If phobia is a metaphor it has mistaken place.

It is as if the human being cuts short the temptation to return. Never stop blowing presence by language. Contrary to hysteria that is not where the subject is. Dance a trembling jig as if you’ve committed a crime. There is language instead of the good breast. Nero carried off the prize; so much air has gone away. We began the day under the considerable weight of symptom. Lovely roofs outside, the vowel sounds cover up the abundance and harshness of consonants. I shall attempt to question the other side. Our bodies will tell their own story by destroying the progress of the human spirit. Interpret as symbolic equivalent of preponderance. That wetness is the infinity of a repetition following a strange course. The blanks separate dislocated themes. Make passion go outside itself.

Everyone belongs to all the others. Forefront of science has always made the young men blush. Metaphor is want forsaking language. I will attempt to describe you. You are designed to survive and collapse. To come home to the lesson of the lesson. I leave my desire stranded in biting mouths. The room is quiet it is time to reflect upon the story it is the moment of wakefulness. Being and non-being are in the remainder. No wound deeper than those gnawed through by the consonants. Pulverize fantasy before it can take shape. Water air and fire already eaten by writing. Speak of a numbed body. Without industry, without speech, and without home in the forests I want to love everyone alive.

Dozens of generations trying to put the mind away. A certain Platonic stoicism condemning the mimetic. Lying on your back pity protects humanity and the life of the living. Be the center of conclusion. Oh the view is blue and no development is out of alignment. The execution coincides with fluid demarcations. Blood tells the necessity of interval, the harsh law of spacing. The beast is there like an inescapable boomerang. To come back to that concept of catastrophe like a sad old candle. Act on the strength of its power. All singing was according to duality’s measure. The nutritive opening fades, then reappears abruptly. For no good reason they are purer more alive more animated. One always passes too quickly over this word.