Roland Barthes par Rastko Koschka, a call to Entiosemantics

May 26, 2014 § 1 Comment

Quotations & citations — even the covers of books — urge me on like the sirens. I am as tied to a mast; I am destined to be torn between wo[r]ds.

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The eternal negative takes the shape of deconstruction & destruction, by turns. These are the positions of irony & anarchism respectively [aesthetic & political]; the boundaries of these instincts are uncertain, though they remain independent, distinct.

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I set a bath &, instead of his book, I take a picture of Roland Barthes.

A young Roland Barthes, playing at bourgeois

A young Barthes, playing at bourgeois

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Lack defines desire, & he was raised on lack. Is it any wonder that he should choose the truest bourgeois profession [the thinker]? From inside, he could ironise, subvert, but possess.

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Barthes cannot bear the guilt of writing: the seeming totality of all words, that these words should make theories of their own indiscretion: “is not writing that language which has renounced producing the last word, which lives & breathes by yielding itself up to others so that they can hear you?” (170).

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Barthes cannot bear the guilt of writing about himself: is a subjectivity without an possible? At best, the self is fragmented — always elsewhere; if we love it, it is a painful & unrequited love that produces no good poetry, is impotent.

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Authors of fragmentary, short works have a clean conscience. Not only is it efficient [suggestive of a life-preference philosophy], but the fragment has two generic benefits: (1) the sense of being collected from the margins of a text; (2) permission to stop frequently & oneself make notes in the margins of the text.

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Writing is separated from the vox populi by its intent. It appropriates language, a craft perfectly suited for taking stock of one’s possessions & negotiating their distribution, to twist it into a tool for unnecessary assessments. Writing is an excess that, like other growths, leads to exclusion.

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Authenticity to the dust! The structure of all things has been scattered [leaving society longing for totality/totalitarianism]. Aporia is not hypocrisy but the truth of individuals, for “there remains neither a central core nor a structure of meaning: I am not contradictory, I am dispersed” (143).

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We are like the enantioseme: the word that means itself & its opposite or contradiction at the same time. Enantiosemantics is the future of psychology, philosophy, & metaphysics.

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The only grace of violence is that it can be turned onto itself. But what is violent to violence is subtlety. “… a touch of sentimentality: would that not be the ultimate transgression?” (66)

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Have you ever noticed how it is the cripples, the monsters, the exiles in those exaggerated genres — children’s, the gothic, opera — that refer to themselves in the third person, as if even they couldn’t possibly identify with themselves?

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Impetus to write [against] does not spring from a fear of boredom, but from exclusion of the right to boredom. Turmoil of not belonging.

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Like Foucault & Proust before him, indignation: “he has complicities of transgression & individualist moods. This produces a philosophy of the anti-Nature which remains rational, & the Sign is an ideal object for such a philosophy: for it is possible to denounce &/or celebrate its arbitrariness; it is possible to enjoy the codes even while nostalgically imagining that someday they will be abolished” (131). Necessity does not exist except as a legality. The Sign has its own set of morals.

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“& then I imagine (but this is only an imagination) that sexuality, as we speak it, & insofar as we speak it, is a product of social oppression, of men’s wicked history: an effect of civilisation, in other words. Whence it might be that sexuality, our sexuality, would be exempted, dismissed, annulled, without repression, by social liberation: the Phallus done away with!” (165).

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Loneliness is being carried to the mausoleum before one’s time.

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If the scientist can laugh at the dead art of physiognomy, which she herself helped batter, why cannot she see through the veneer of reason that characterises a complete understanding?

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We should recall medieval attempts at locating/measuring the soul [of both the living & the dead]. With this in mind, it should not surprise us that analysts today seek out the language gene or might believe in its limb-like growth. Whatever shape metaphysics of the day takes, people will try to turn it into matter — of course, those who ask this of metaphysics [a contradiction of terms] aren’t talented alchemists.

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Stupidity is what’s on the other side of your position. Admitting stupidity as a valid choice is about transgressing one’s limits.

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A box of anti-intellectual trifles.

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“Bliss is not what corresponds to desire (what satisfies it) but what surprises, exceeds, disturbs, deflects it” (112, emphasis his). There is ecstasy in facing potential; it is blissful as the warmth of the future as a source of light.

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Image-system, Imaginaire, might be visualised as a picture-book for adults containing the motifs of that individual’s life [the language of their seeing, in proper nouns & without grammar]. Knowledge is pleasurable because it adds pages to this system. More important still, is knowledge of this book’s existence for our perspective depends on it.

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Sometimes we ask for nothing better than to be an evocation of the image-system: a figure against a bookshelf in a bathrobe, perhaps swinging a pair of glasses. A trap of assumption requires no interpretation, so is left alone.

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[difference begets invisibility : invisibility begets protection : protection begets love of difference]

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“Law, Science, the Doxa refuse to understand that perversion, quite simply, makes happy: or to be more specific, it produces a more: I am more sensitive, more perceptive, more loquacious, more amused, &c. — & in this more is where we find the difference (& consequently, the Text of life, life-as-text). Henceforth, it is a goddess, a figure that can be invoked a means of intercession” (64, emphasis his).

 

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