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I just finished reading Anthony De Mello’s “Awareness.” It has been about ten years now that I have been interested in Eastern philosophy and thought: Buddhism, Taoism, Hindu thought, etc.. Within that, I have also been interested in psychology, and if it weren’t for the math and stats, I might have studied psychology instead of English.

De Mello’s book does a great job of mixing Eastern thought, Christian thought, psychology, and philosophy into this book (which took me so long to read because I was worried it was a little too “self-help”).

The book says nothing new, but for me, it is always good to be reminded of simple things I always forget. I tend to mix the “I” and the “me” as De Mello would put it. De Mello tells us that we need to be awakened– and this idea is a common one: most Eastern religions discuss samsara, delusion, being asleep, and that enlightenment, nirvana, God, is awakening to reality. This idea is repeated here.

The thing that we need to be awakened to is that we are attached to our delusions about life. How many of us always say, “I’ll be happy when….” But the condition (the when) comes, and then we are happy for a short period of time only to fall into unhappiness again. The first step, therefore, is to realize that we are our own obstacle to our happiness. That the idea of happiness is all in our head (“nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”).

What is continually repeated throughout the book is:
1) We must make the distinction between the “I” and the “me”– things do not happen to “me,” they happen to the ego, the I. The “I” is not depressed, the “I” is not happy, the “I’ is not anything, but we use this language that confuses us: “I am sad,” “I am happy,” but YOU are NOT “DEPRESSED”- you just are and that feeling will pass. Your emotions do not make up who you are.

De Mello says, “Problems exist only in the human mind” (80). Because we identify with our feelings. Because we try to change other people and depend on others for our happiness, and because we don’t even realize that we do these things.

2) Language is there for communication but is imperfect and leads to delusions. When we use language we categorize things, create concepts about things, talk about life imperfectly. This is an interesting point that goes along with the postmodern philosophy I have been reading. This idea also greatly reminds me of Emmanuel Levinas, who talks about totalizing language. It is also a point that Derrida makes: once we speak, there is distance, the trace permeates all our definitions; furthermore, once we put things into language, we bring in all our preconceived notions about the thing we are speaking and putting into words.

De Mello gives a great example here:

Words cannot give you reality. They only point, they only indicate. You use them as pointers to get to reality. But once you get there, your concepts are useless

Then he repeats the example a Hindu priest gave:

The ass that you mount and tha tyou use to travel to a house is not the means by which you enter the house. you use the concept to get there; then you dismount, you go beyond it” (123).

I would say that many of the other things that De Mello talks about in this book stem from this concept about language. Since language is a social, culturally shared thing, then all the other things we are attached to stem from using language in society. It is society that tell me that I have to succeed, get a pretty wife, have kids, have a good career, when in reality all you have to do is live, which brings me to number three:

3) Much like Taosim (and Buddhism to the extent that Buddhism uses Taoist beliefs), De Mello reminds us that life just is. WIth in that, the goal of life is just to live and go with the flow as he says, “Eternal life is now. We’re surrounded by it, like fish in the ocean, but we have no notion about it at all” (137).

His prescription of detachment (which isn’t really a prescription to do anything), so to detach from everything. This means from other people, from social constructions and concepts, from even religion and God. You do not need God, religion, or other people to be happy; in fact, these things just foster attachment, which leads to disappointment and unawareness.

The only thing to do is as the Buddhist say: unlearn something everyday. Lose your notions of what you think is going to make you happy and save you. De Mello, though, doesn’t give you any kind of real “method” to do this because a method would be just another part of the trap of society (I can’t help but to think of Palahniuk’s Fight Club and Invisible Monsters while reading this stuff. De Mello, like Tryler, suggest that once you get sick of being disappointed by people (because you depend on them for your happiness) then you will be able to be free without attachments. De Mello, like Brandy Alexander, lets us know that any way you can think of to escape the “trap” is part of the trap because we are so conditioned by society).

De Mello’s approach takes on a rather non-totalizing, psychological approach. There is no hope for change unless it comes from within and from an awakening/awareness. Rather than say ‘this is what you must do,’ De Mello suggest a couple of things that will help you wake up, such as, being aware of where your feelings are coming from, try to see the world from other’s perspective, realize that you are attached to wanting praise, acceptance, etc.

I feel my problem is that I am attached to wanting un-attachment. I am too concerned with wanting to “get it” with wanting to “wake up” that it gets in the way of being able to reach any kind of enlightenment. I am also selfish in my love– I want the other to want me and need me, which makes me want and need the other. But I am too attached to wanting to not want the other… It is a big mess really. But De Mello also lets us know that there is nothing you can “do.” You can only live and try to be aware of life– it reminds me of Tich Nhat Hahn’s idea of mindfulness. So… I guess I’ll stop doing…

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I have been very busy lately. I have been working six days a week:
Teaching an 1101 at FIU
Tutoring at Miami-dade
Waiting tables at Rubys

But I have been reading whenever I can. And I have a rough draft sample for my phd application:

Bearing Witness to the Darkness in “Sonny’s Blues”

James Baldwin’s short story “Sonny’s Blues,” like the blues that Sonny, Creole, and the others play, is not a story about anything new. But like Sonny, Baldwin is:

keeping it new, at the risk of ruin, destruction, madness, and death, in order to find new ways to make us listen. For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell, it’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness (Baldwin 438).

The story that is being told is about bearing witness to life’s harshness, beauty, pain, and pleasure. This story illustrates two different ways to bear witness and, in the end, demonstrates as Derrida says that, “all responsible witnessing engages a poetic experience of language” (Derrida 67); furthermore, Baldwin will show that it is through music (music as poetic language), more so than through language, that one can responsibly bear witness. This is seen in the dialectic between the narrator’s constant verbal reflections, which end in frustrated communication between the Narrator and Sonny, and Sonny’s musical blues, which end in an understanding and communication break though between Sonny and his Brother .

Before looking at the short story, it might be necessary to explain what Derrida means when he says that all responsible witnessing is done through poetic language. What is meant is that an experience cannot be reduced to a singularity (a singular event) that can be passed on and experienced by anyone but the person who experienced it. Therefore, in bearing witness, it would be irresponsible to state “facts” in such a way so as to reduce the experience to those mere facts or to pass off those facts as what “actually” happened. It would also be false to try to take the place of the witness or to try and recreate the experience in such a way as to lead the observer thinking that he or she could possibly “live” the experience. Rather, if the experience is offered in a poetic expression, it is in this way that the experience is admitting its non-reducibility and non-totalization.

The poetic act is itself a singular event, but an event that holds a “secret,” that shows itself as poetic language as such. The poetic experience is done through non-representational language (through language that is not claiming to have direct access to meaning) and is not saying ‘this is exactly what I mean,’ but rather poetic language leaves itself open for interpretation as Derrida says, “It speaks to the other by keeping quiet, keeping something quiet from him. In keeping quiet, in keeping silent, it still addresses” (96). That is to say, poetic language does not claim to hold fully-present-meaning or point directly at meaning, or to be able to fully actualize an experience to the reader, and by being open, leaving words flickering with meaning, by ‘keeping something quiet’, the poetic act responsibly opens up bearing witness. This is what Baldwin’s story does.

The Narrator finds it difficult to relate to his brother Sonny because the Narrator is communicating in language that wants to have direct access to meaning and experience. This is seen in the contrast the story present. The Brother has a constant reflective internal dialogue. He is constantly trying to put everything into words, and it is only when he sees what happened to Sonny in the paper (in words) that “He [Sonny] became real to me [Narrator] again” (Baldwin 409). Furthermore, the Narrator was able to keep Sonny out of his life because he “didn’t name” (Ibid.) any suspicions he had of Sonny. Since it is through spoken words that the Narrator communicates to his world as long as he does not put Sonny into words, then the Narrator is able to keep Sonny out of reality.

The Narrator irresponsibly bears witness when he keeps Sonny out of the narrator’s reality and when he tries to take the place of the witness. The Narrator feels that his verbal reflection is the only way to tell the story of life in Harlem and the story of his brother Sonny. This is seen when the Narrator encounters one of Sonny’s old friends and does not want to hear the young man’s story, but then feels guilty “…for never having supposed that the poor bastard had a story of his own, much less a sad one” (Baldwin 412). The narrator, and one could say, of course, unintentionally, tries to take the place of the witness; such as when he picks Sonny up and they are in the cab, and the Narrator assumes “We had a lot to say to each other, far too much to know how to begin” (415). This is further seen after dinner when the Narrator worries that everything he says “sounded freighted with hidden meaning” (417), and then again later when he relates the story his mother tells him of his father and the uncle he did not know he had—the Narrator is left speechless. The reason that the Brother worries about the ‘hidden meaning’ and is left speechless is because it is through words that the Brother knows how to communicate. He does want his words to have direct meaning. He wants to bear witness for his mother and father. But language will always be interpreted by the one hearing it, and an experience can only be lived by the person who lived it.

The contrast to this is Sonny who has trouble expressing himself through words. Sonny’s brother tells us, “Sonny has never been talkative” (417) . Sonny is the dialectic antithesis of his brother, and when Sonny does try to talk to his brother after their mother died, we see how his brother finds himself “…in the presence of something I didn’t really know how to handle, I didn’t understand [sic]” (422). And when Sonny tries to explain what he wants to do with his life, he communicates by “…looking hard at me, as though his eyes would help me to understand, and then gestured helplessly, as though perhaps a hand would help” (423). Sonny is more in tune with other forms of communication besides verbal ones, and this makes it hard for the Narrator to understand Sonny. Sonny is into the poetic expression of jazz, ad we see just how out of touch his brother is when his brother does not know who Charlie “Bird” Parker is.

If this story is about communication—the communication of Brother through words and of Sonny through music—then it can be said that the story they are communicating is about darkness and about bearing witness to the darkness they live in. The story (and it must be kept in mind how responsible bearing witness is done and what is meant by poetic language) is a meta-bearing witness. Baldwin tells us a story of brother’s bearing witness while Baldwin himself is bearing witness. The story is [also] about darkness, but it never tells the reader what that darkness is exactly; it ‘keeps something quiet, but in keeping silent it is still addressing the reader and the darkness.

Darkness can be seen as lost of innocence, denial, troubles, the world that the Harlem residents are trapped in, Sonny’s troubles, and suffering. Darkness can be seen as a lost of innocence because it is something that only the adults see. The children are like a pure Adam and Eve before eating the apple and expulsion from paradise. Getting older and knowledge are taking the bite from the apple, “…[if the child] know too much about what’s happened to them, he’ll know too much too soon, about what is going to happen to him” (419). Not only is darkness the lost of innocence on the orizon it is also the place that will trap them when they get older. It is the darkness that Harlem is trapped in.

Darkness is also the Brother’s denial of Sonny and his awakening to his brother. It is the world that Brother lives in, which, “Through Brother’s further self-reflections, the story probes his feelings of being ‘trapped in the darkness which roared outside.’ Darkness outside reveals his own inner darkness” (Bieganowski 72). Darkness as denial, also awakens Sonny to him:

Denial makes many people unable to enter dialogue, for they might hear what they are totally invested in rejecting. Thus, it is only when the narrator himself suffers that he can begin to hear Sonny’s story; only when his daughter dies does he experience pain that cannot be outfaced by his denial (Norton 180).

The darkness can also be seen as Brother’s dark time when his daughter dies and he thinks of Sonny. It represents Brother’s denial of not being his brother’s keeper. It can also be the said that Brother was ‘in the dark’ about Sonny’s lifestyle and drug use. Darkness can be the guilt that Brother feels.

It is here, in trying to interpret Baldwin’s darkness, where one might be tempted to look at Baldwin’s life, key dates, biography, and other factual context surrounding the story. The darkness can be the darkness of Baldwin’s identity as a religious man who is also a gay, black writer, and thus he is doubly marginalized by society. Derrida warns against this temptation, and while Derrida is talking about Paul Celan, his reasoning can easily apply to Baldwin’s story:

…it is difficult not to think of as also referring, according to an essential reference, to dates and events, to the existence or the experience of Celan. These ‘things’ that are not only ‘words’: the poet is the only one who can bear witness to them, but he does not name them in the poem. The possibility of a secret always remains open, and this reserve inexhaustible (emphasis in original 67)

All one has to do is substitute Baldwin for Celan and poet for short story writer. Looking at the ‘facts’ of Baldwin’s life will not get the reader closer to the experience of Baldwin and what he intended in the story; rather, Baldwin is the only one who can ‘bear witness to them,’ and Baldwin’s experiences are not objective events in some sense that Baldwin names in the story. In language, the possibility of meaning is open to interpretation because the story is not in the realm of direct signification, and so the story always ‘keeps quiet about something,’ which is why darkness can be interpreted in so many different ways in the story. If anything is said about Baldwin, it is that he bears witness in this meta-way by leaving his story open to interpretations and by leaving Sonny’s “literal” blues (the one he plays in the story) open to interpretation by his brother and audience.

In Sonny’s Blues the communication problem between brothers stems from them not being able to get outside of the singularity of bearing witness, and it is only when Sonny plays the blues that they are able to understand each other and that the reader sees some light in all the darkness. Baldwin shows how it is not in the verbal-dialogue world of the Narrator that bearing witness was possible, but “Here…in Sonny’s world. Or, rather: his kingdom” (436), that a musical dialogue opened up everything that the Narrator was trying to say.

It is here at the end of the story where the reader might realize that the Narrator and Sonny are telling the same story—they are both bearing witness to their past, to their community, and to their parents. Both stories are bearing witness to the darkness, suffering, as well as beauty, and every else that life is because “There isn’t any other tale to tell, it’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness” (438). It is at the end when Brother realizes the “freedom [that] lurked around [them],” and it is here where Brother finally realizes, and is able to listen and understands “that [Sonny] could help us to be free if we would listen, that he[Sonny] would never be free until we did” (439).

Just how one can read a Celan poem and get sense of the horrors of the Holocaust, one can read Baldwin’s story and get a sense of the struggles of Harlem. Because it is done in this poetic expression it can convey that something is happening while not fully trying to relate what that ‘something’ is. It is in this way that brother is able to see his mother’s face again and feel:

…for the first time, how the stones of the road she had walked on must have bruised her feet. I saw the moonlit road where my father’s brother died. And it brought something else back to me, and carried me past it, I saw my little girl again and felt Isabel’s tears again, and I felt my own tears begin to rise.

The narrator is able to see and experience these things while he finally listens to his brother because Sonny is talking in poetic language, which means that the Narrator will interpret all these things in the music. The reader sees how it is only through poetic language that responsible bearing witness is carried out and how it is, wordlessly, able to bridge a communication gap between brothers, all while Baldwin does the same thing (bears witness for his community and his darkness, possibly) through his prose, which is done in poetic language.

Works Cited:
Baldwin, James. Sonny’s Blues. The version you gave us….

Bieganowski, Ronald. James Baldwin’s Vision of Otherness in ‘Sonny’s Blues’ and Giovanni’s Room. CLA Journal. V.43 no.4 (June 200). 443-53.

Derrida, Jacques. Poetics and Politics of Witnessing. Sovereignties in Question: The Poetics of Paul Celan. Trans. & Ed. Thomas Dutoit and Outi Passanen. Fordham University Pres. New York, NY. 2005.

Norton, Sandy M. To Keep from Shaking to Pieces: Addiction and Bearing Reality in ‘Sonny’s Blues’. The Language of Addiction. Ed. Jane Lilienfeld and Jeffrey Oxford. St. Martin’s Press. New York, NY. 1999.

Check out this book. This is what I have been talking about when I say that I am a pessemistic opptimist. That things suck, but they suck to show us how the good thing is so good…. This is a scattered thought, but it goes into the thoughts on love I have been having:

http://www.slate.com/id/2220892/pagenum/all/#p2

palahniuk
I just finished reading Pygmy by Chuck Palahniuk. The plot is simple enough: a child was taken from his parents at the age of four and was brainwashed into hating America and trained in combat and terrorism to fulfill “Operation Havoc.” Disguised as a foreign exchange student, Pygmy and his cronies infiltrate middle American homes as innocent students and begin to hatch their deadly plan. In the middle of the book, in Palahniuk fashion, there is sex and violence and a subtle commentary on all those great American things that can be so bad when taken to excess.

The novel is written in a pidgin English as it is the recording of Pygmy otherwise known as agent 67. This style lends a certain comedy to the novel as when Pygmy brutally rapes the town bully in a Wal-mart bathroom. This style also lends itself to a subtle review of all those Palahniuk themes about the dangers of consumerism and hero worship American are so prone to while also exploring a certain xenophobia that has sprung up in recent years towards America and our “spreading of freedom and democracy.”

For instance there is the scene in which Pygmy is describing his Wal-mart surrounding:

“For official record, squirrel maze of retail distribution center puzzle of competition warring objects, all improved, all package within fire color. Area divided into walls constructed from objects, all tinted color so grab eye. All object printed: Love me. Look me. Million speaking objects, begging…”

As in Fight Club we see how Palahniuk is concerned with our society’s obsession with measuring a person’s wealth by what is found in their wallet and homes rather than what is found inside the person. Another theme explored here is that subtle existential absurd—that moment when one stops to question if the life he is living is really worth living, and the person begins to question if his life has any meaning at all.

Pygmy comes to this realization as he begins to develop feelings for his host family’s sister. He questions what will happen if he is successful and kills off all his evil American enemies. His contemplation leads to a running theme throughout Palahniuk that I believe is severely overlooked: love and community. The only essay I have seen that addresses this is Jesse Kavaldo’s essay about Palahniuk being a closet moralist.

It seems that in the end, all of Palahniuk’s novels are about outcast finding someone to love, and this book is no different.

The book does has its flaws. For instance here is a group of foreign kids who talk in this broken English but win the spelling bee. There is also a scene early in the book in which Pygmy doesn’t know what a bathroom is, and this little inconstancies along with the broken writing gets grating at times.

I don’t know if it is the disappointment of Rant and Snuff along with my great desire to see Palahniuk write a good book again, but this was an entertaining book despite its flaws.

The broken style makes the book both grating but also, at times, entertaining. An example of this (and an example that ties in the idea that Palahniuk is really just a big softy, romantic) is after Pygmy receives a kiss from his sister and says, “Tongue of operative me licking own lips so able revisit lingering taste of vanished affection.” The way some of the more violent scenes are told in this style makes the scenes more poignant. The reader is jarred out of the complacency of reading this broken style as he starts to realize what is being narrated. Yet, I feel it could have been done so much better.

There are some issues of communication and, of course, about love and community that are running throughout this book that I would like to come back to soon…

This is just to remind myself to look at my notes on waiting. I have a thought about the connection of waiting and heartbreak (and maybe even a relationship between waiting and falling in love; i.e. waiting to fall in love?).

If waiting is what happens to time when the door jams, then waiting when heartbroken is like the door falling on top of you and now you got to wait for help because you are stuck. There is also a correlation between the idea of objects in waiting (all things must perish), and how these objects become weird, obscure in waiting– life becomes like this when you are heartbroken.

There are studies of how the brain reacts when it is “in love” but are there any studies that explore brain chemistry when one is heartbroken?

How does literature address/confront heartbreak? (Bukowski writes about this. Also, chapter in Demian by Herman Hesse). Where else? How else?

This is just to remind myself to get back to this article. And if you are reading this Bryan– this is what we were talking about the other day:

http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn9981-instant-expert-love.html

Is science going to be able to explain love to us, finally?
Maybe biologically, chemically, but I don’t think completely. I still think, and maybe I think so purely for socially constructed reasons, that there is something metaphysical about love and emotions in general….

Again, I hope to get back to this. For now, it is back to Pygmy.

I realize now that I really need to get back into a classroom and have a smart teacher telling me to do things and explaining things to me because, otherwise, I am a big slacker.

Ok, so not completely. I started reading Chuck Palahniuk’s new book: Pygmy. So far it is interesting.

An unnamed narrator, “Pygmy” as his fat, capitalist, American townies that surround him call him, is a trained killer (terrorist) from some unnamed Freedom hating country.

So far Palahniuk is touching on all his old subjects and themes: identity, the pitfalls of American capitalism, identity, consumer society, etc…

He has also written a pretty brutal rape scene in which Pyrmy makes the local townie bully his bitch, and there was also a scene in which one of the other trained terrosit (Magda) bit off a priest throat while she was being baptized.

Ya… crazy shit. I’ll write more about the book as I finish it and digest it. And then… and then it will be back to Book IV.

MedinaPL3
I am finally back to it. I finished book 3.

Here we begin to see how Light equals good and darkness equals bad. I have a friend who brings up a good point about this binary (and as you know– all those binaries need to be questioned in our postmodern world view), he says that this one makes sense. That light IS good if only for evolutionary reasons. When we were cave-men and women, the light was good because it helped us see predators coming, light made vegetation possible, brought warmth, etc.. Whereas darkness meant we couldn’t see what was going on, meant fewer crops to eat, meant cold. It makes sense then that God should be light– the giver of life and that Satan would be hell fire and darkness. But I digress…

Milton begins by asking his muse, this time “holy light,” to inspire him, but Milton hesitates and worries about his invocation. Milton calls this holy light coeternal with God because does that then mean that this light is as powerful as God? Brought up Catholic, for me, that is exactly what it means. Well, not so much that this “holy light” is just as powerful as God, but that this holy light is God. Just like Jesus Christ IS God. And then, Milton gets back to the plot.

God is sitting around with his son, Jesus Christ. Which to me brings up more questions about this holy trinity: Where did Jesus come from? God just created Jesus? If God just created Jesus, how is Jesus His son? I guess we are all “sons of God”, but then doesn’t that mean that anyone could have died and been sacrificed for humanities’ sin?

So– God is seeing Satan coming towards His new creation earth, and since God is all knowing, God knows what is about to happen. He knows that man will be tempted and fall, and He knows that He can’t do anything about it because He has given man free will. And this part is a nice explanation of free will and why man had to fall. If God doesn’t give man free-will (and sorry for the male-centered rhetoric “man” and such– it is just easier), then the creation is a false one. But my question then is, again, if we are given free will then why is God so mad when Adam and Eve defy Him and eat the apple?

And here, Milton gives us a summary of how merciful God is going to be with humankind because Man, unlike the Angels, was tricked into this fall; whereas, the Angels chose to rebel without any corrosion. Though this might be a sticky subject to, no? I’m sure some Angels that fell with Satan were, maybe not “tricked” but influenced by Satan’s silver tongue.

But back to the story: God sees what will happen and decides he will be merciful with man, Jesus points out that man has to suffer something, that justice must be paid (why is justice talked about as a commodity? Something has to be “paid”). But this whole exchange in which Jesus reminds God that, hey– you can’t just let them off the hook, someone has to pay– seems contrived. God tells J.C. that some sacrifice has to be made, and then J.C. volunteers. But didn’t God see that one coming? And if God is this trinity, isn’t God, himself, who is sacrificing himself? This stuff hurts my brain sometimes…

God and the angels in heaven praise J.C. for three pages, and then the story returns to Satan landing on earth. It is interesting that Milton makes sure the reader knows that Satan is on earth at a time before there are things on earth that will distract man from God and make man vain. Again, doesn’t this go back to free-will? It is easy to praise God and do what He says if you have no distractions.

Satan then disguises himself as a cherub and tells the Angel guarding the gate that he is curios and wants to check out the new creation.

That is all the energy I have right now to deal with Book III. For whatever reason, it has taken me a long time to get through this and be able to write about it. I am looking forward to Book IV, in which Satan tempts our unsuspecting first couple.

Venus- goddess of love and desire

Venus- goddess of love and desire


Ok, so Book III of Paradise Lost has been a struggle. I am finding it boring, and also, I just went away on a little vacation to visit a friend, so I have been really slacking all around. 

Now, rather than get back to Milton, I wanted to explore Desire for a number of reasons– none of which are really important since no one is reading this anyway. But let’s begin the exploration.

One of the initial thoughts I had on desire stems from a conversation I had with a friend about Derrida’s conception of desire. Derrida’s starting point is Rousseau’s essay in which Rousseau condemns writing because speech is present and writing is just a poor substitute (a lack of presences). Rousseau explains that masturbation  is like writing: a poor substitute for the “real” thing. 

But Derrida points out that R’s desire for a real woman is grounded on this distance (the fact that she is not actually present). Furthermore, the object of desire is a substitute for the original love object (R’s mom). Also, Desire’s structure itself is based on only being able to desire what you don’t have. To keep it short and poorly wrap up what is being said here, I turn to Barbara Johnson’s introduction to Dissemination, in which Johnson sumerizes, quite nicely, Derrida’s deconstruction of R’s essay:

Presence, then, is an ambigous, even dangerous, ideal. Direct speech is self-violation; perfect heteroeroticism is death. Recourse to writing and autoeroticism is necessary to recapture a presence whose lack has not been preceded by any fullness. Yet these two compensatory activities are themselves condemned as unnecessary, even dangerous, supplements. 

[These comments are dealing with Derrida's essay "That Dangerous Supplement"]. Johnson goes on to say:

Thus, writing and masturbation may add to something that is already present, in which case they are superfluois. AND/OR they may replace something that is not present, in which case they are neccesary (xiii).

What I really want to focus on is the idea of desire, and how it is that desire is by definition that thing which you can never have. I think this concept nicely supports the ideas on love I have been trying to deal with lately. Desire can never be reached because if it is reached then it is not desire anymore– and isn’t this what love is too? I think this is what Derrida wants to point out in R’s essay. Derrida wants to show how R is missing the point of the thing R. desires.

When one is in love, that desire doesn’t go away because it can never be reached, and the idea that you can never reach it (that “thing” desire– whatever that is) is love. You can never “reach” love because love is not an object to be reached. It is the same reason that desire, in order to be desire, must never be reached. 

DESIRE: 

–verb (used with object

1. to wish or long for; crave; want.
2. to express a wish to obtain; ask for; request: The mayor desires your presence at the next meeting.
–noun

3. a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction or enjoyment: a desire for fame.
4. an expressed wish; request.
5. something desired.
6. sexual appetite or a sexual urge.

 

Desire will always stay an urge, and is this not what love is? It is the urge that does not go away even when you “have” the person you desire.

I have to read more Lacan, but from the little I have read, it seems Lacan has a better conception of Love (or even Levinas, who realizes how much language gets in the way to ruin love because language is too poor to be able to “capture” love). It seems to me that desire is then is what the definition above says it is (of course, not completely as was just pointed out, language gets in the way), but the thing that is craved and longed for is the other’s desire. We all want to be desired, but what happens when the other you want to desire you is desiring your desire? Again, this is a shortcoming of my limited knowledge on the subject. To use Levinas as an example again: Levinas says that we are responsible to the face (visage) of the other, but what happens when one face meets another face? Who is responsible to whom?

Then love is like desire– or rather (maybe)– desire fuels love in that when you are in love, you constantly desire the other person (and all this language and vocabulary, to repeat, is limited and almost violent. The language and rhetoric of love and desire is so crass. It is the language of possessive nouns and pronouns: mine, my b/f or g/f, I love all of you, etc…). There is a difference between using a person (for, say, a one night stand) in which you fulfill some narcissistic drive and were able to make someone want you, made you feel desired, and once you achieved that goal, that person is no longer important– and then there is the love relationship where you are constantly wanting to be desired and desiring.

There is more here, but I got to get back to Paradise Lost and reading more Lacan and Levinas.

I have not been able to read the last two days. Life, unfortunately (sometimes), does not stop.I worked all day at my restuarant job on Friday and then Saturday I worked in the morning and took my mom out for mother’s day with my brother in the afternoon and then went to hang out with friends, and then Sunday was mother’s day proper.

So, rather than Book III, I want to briefly look at and write about Lacan. I want to grasp, as it were, the concept of Lacan’s triad: the imaginary, the symbolic, and the real. 

There is this great web-site dedicated entirely to Lacan (thanks Bryan). 

The triad is explained by Zizek using the metaphor of a game of chess. The rules one has to follow are the Symbolic. I think of this as the rules of “polite” society. There are certain unwritten rules (unconscious rules) we all follow. Furthermore, these rules are always with us whether we actively acknowledge them or not–and for the most part– we can’t acknowledge them or we wouldn’t be able to function. 

For instance, to continue on Zizek’s example, whenever I engage in a conversation with someone, there are grammatical rules we follow in order to have a conversation. But that is only part of what is going on in this symbolic level as Zizek explains:

There are rules (and meanings) that I follow blindly, out of custom, but of which, upon reflection, I can become at least partially aware (such as common grammatical rules), and there are rules that I follow, meanings that haunt me, unbeknownst to me (such as unconscious prohibitions). Then there are rules and meanings I am aware of, but have to act on the outside as if I am not aware of them – dirty or obscene innuendos which one passes over in silence in order to maintain the proper appearances.

The first rules are simple enough to comprehend. I think of these rules sometimes after a long day of working at the grammar lab. There are moments when I pause while talking to think to myself whether to use “who” or “whom”, or I’ll be talking and won’t be sure if I need to say him and I or he and me. etc… When I become too aware of these rules it halts my speech act. 

The second one: the meanings that haunt me (unconscious prohibitions), I have a little more problems with. Aren’t we pretty aware of prohibitions? 

I have to come back to this because I want to do more research and try to read more about this, and also because I was on a phone call and am now too tired to think about this stuff– also, I figure, this is my fragments, and since no one is really reading this– I can deal with leaving these thoughts lingering…

But if there are any readers, the video below is from the web-site mentioned earlier (http://www.lacan.com//covers.htm):

http://www.lacan.com/thevideos/?p=27

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