What to do in this World

What to do in this world, what with this hustle and bustle, what with this what a to do and what to doing... It's so disingenuous. An avoidance strategy. Not even avoidance, because it is compounding in fact, but perpetual distraction - 'the peaceful parade of television pictures' (Baudrillard, 1990). And if there are already insects...? So many askings have all already been answered. But what about the questions? They don't even let you have paragraphs anymore, and they determine how you smile, with their to do ;-) It's a Conspiracy! What about Positive Illegitimacy?! And Illegitimate Positivity. So many diseases, so many orthodoxies. So many professionals, so few confessions. Cowards of our type.

Omnipotence

The Idiot Complex. A question of boundaries, or the tension between their being, and being there; being so much wherever you are, that you is not there. The principle of poetry. The word that straddles with its compass points both instance and meaning. That word brings maximum or acutely focussed meaning to the instance. Words weighted, carefully balanced. Words waiting for their moment. The moment of a word. Not to be felt too strongly, for danger of falling into its black hole singularity. Black holes are an ultimate singularity. Individuals of universal mass, that cease to be individuals and can only really be classified as a force or a consciousness. Or perhaps a brand. The famous, never real. The desire for the superstar, the person whose personality is overwhelmingly vast, that elevates the principle and possibility of personhood to galactic proportions, momentarily solving the problem of where we end, and where we begin. With black holes. Marked cattle. Illicit passions. See how they proliferate!

Initial Problems for a Signature Piece (SSB Bates)

The problem of form grows around every medium, the question of purpose is raised by every act. And self-doubt leads to ridiculous posturing. The combination of terms is a give away as ridicule and self-doubt are close friends. Of a subject to this writing. A prerequisite of speech. Original sin. The guilty subject. The subject as a synonym of guilt. It is the way in which selves locate themselves in relation to what they are not. Every subject has a guilty lining, otherwise it would disperse like the clouds. 'I' is guilty. It's so attractive - Catholicism, fitness or beauty, ecological awareness, charity. The Subject hoarding in order to constitute a self out of what is other. The affirmation of confession: "I have something to confess - it is the ecstasy and agony of my self." Perhaps there is no problem of form. Speech determined by language, writing by signs and language, thought by experience and signs and language. Emotions by the trauma of inadequacies of language and its employment. But inadequacy is an unanchored concept. A guilt concept. An excuse vehicle. This is not about determinism, it is about acknowledging currency. It is only language. And things must be examined as currency to be understood. Derrida's science of language. There is only one thing to say, which is the way it is said. But this reduction may be misguided and a sign of the times - dislocation of the Subject from the Subject. The awareness of the one that creates a distance from the other. The lack of distance from the other that swallows up awareness of the one. The empty shell that lives because it suggests a shell. Enough for it to be inhabited by a hermit crab or the imagination of one. How can a subject exist within the order of discord? The Subject exists most in the problem of form and the question of purpose, perhaps - content, or plot, is less important. The subject exists in the space of inaccuracy that is the origin of speech, in the doubt that arises when the self attempts to appropriate a sign or concept and constitute its Self. It exists in the spectrum of the Supplement, completing a lack in order to shoulder the self up by fusing it with a thing, and exploiting or articulating or deploying a surplus. It exists in the form employed for the momentary supposed unique incarnation of a thing, and in the purpose of the invocation of a concept. If we understood each other, we would have nothing to say. And now it is no longer possible to say something, but it is possible to say anything somehow. The idea of the subject is its eternal lack of integrity. The guilty subject. I am a fake. I know. I am guilty. I am.