i.. uh... i erred

If you ask me to write things, isn't that like asking a dead man to dance?

We're riddled with pointless talk, insane quantities of words and images. Stupidity's never blind or mute. So it’s not a problem of getting people to express themselves but of providing little gaps of solitude and silence in which they might eventually find something to say. Repressive forces don't stop people expressing themselves but rather force them to express themselves; what a relief to have nothing to say, the right to say nothing, because only then is there a chance of framing the rare, and ever rarer, thing that might be worth saying

“There is no such thing as data-driven thinking. Only calculation is data driven. The negativity of the incalculable is inscribed in thinking. As such, it is prior and superordinate to “data” which means “things given”.”

“Individuals find a real name for themselves only through the hardest exercise in depersonalization, by opening themselves up to multiplicities everywhere within them, to the intensities running through them. A name [one’s own name, speaking for yourself in your own name] as the direct awareness of such intensive multiplicity is the opposite of the depersonalization effected by the history of philosophy; it’s depersonalization through love rather than subjection. What one says becomes from the depths of one’s ignorance, the depths of one’s own underdevelopment. One becomes a set of liberated singularities, words, names, fingernails, things, animals, little events.”

“If you have patience enough to search, maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of what you’re looking for. And when you find it, you’ll probably be disappointed. It isn’t the devil. It isn’t the State. It isn’t a magical child. It’s the void.”

“I don’t have much time, I have to haul corpses. I don’t have much time, I have to breath, eat, drink, sleep. I don’t have much time, I have to keep the gears meshing. I don’t have much time, I’m busy living. I don’t have much time, I’m busy dying.”

I say again, out of the sheer joy of being alive: salvation comes through risk—without that, life is not worth living! Happy New Year.

Perhaps what happened to me was an understanding. I have to keep on being unable to grasp it, keep on not understanding it. All sudden understanding closely resembles an acute incomprehension. No. All sudden understanding is finally the revelation of an incute incomprehension. Each moment of finding is a getting lost.

The truth doesn't make sense, the greatness of the world restricts me. What I probably asked for and finally got, left me needy as a child wandering the earth alone.

Lately many years have passed.