(no subject)

Theory:

Thought cannot represent the world as it really is--if you turn the Reality expectation-dial to a sufficiently rich level of detail, anyway. But it tries. Where it fails, does it do so because our brains are tiny? Or is the problem that we think using language, or that our thought is enslaved by our desire, or is it that we're taught how to think and there's something wrong with the teaching? Language, desire, culture: no one is moronic enough to deny that these can take our thoughts away from their task of grappling with the real.

But suppose they take it away totally--how would we know?

The unnatural divisions, arbitrary connections and disconnections, clumsy overemphases or underemphases of language might lead thought away from the real categorically. How could you argue otherwise without using language?

Our need to rewrite the scheme of things nearer our heart's desire might be taking place at every moment, too. And supposing we all do it, and all the time, and (apparently) in ways too similar for one of us to easily call out another, to the point that wanting's selectivity and other misrepresentations lead us away from the real categorically? How could you argue otherwise without wanting to?

Culture's overpowering of whatever there is of our natural minds--are there natural minds?--from or even before the moment of our birth might mean we are its pawns, creatures, publications. Might mean we are nothing else. Our words, gestures and other discursive habits might all be learned--not just as units but as patterns, as totalities. What if we have no ability to go offscript, therefore categorically cannot represent reality--being ourselves representations? How could you argue that we do have such an ability if you yourself don't know to what extent your very thoughts are prerecorded?

You couldn't. The point of thinking these thoughts is to unravel the illusion that thought can be representational. On the other hand, you might argue that to say that the representational capacity of thought is illusory is itself a representational thought. But how could you argue that without committing yourself to the unproven assumption that thought can act autonomously of desire, culture language. You couldn't

These issues of culture, desire, language cannot be discussed without the help of language, desire, culture. Thinking about thought is contaminated by thought's preconditions. If we are to discuss this meaningfully we must find language that is not language, desire that is not desire, culture that is not culture. It sounds like thiskmarketyJoburgerfores___x^X o

But what if prying the lid off the impossible doesn't help. Can something else? There is a great work ahead of us, figuring this out. Paradoxes must be navigated, terms held onto but negated or problematized as we explore just what conditions might be stable, or more stable, among other conditions resigned to flux. As yet we see no light at tunnel's end, but through our speculative adherence to the technology of the critique, we perhaps lay down the groundwork for a conjectural reconstruction of the affirmative scaffolding necessary to emphasize performance of ideological interrogations recentering potentialities of

To date, though, what if this disconnect only occurs because of how things have been to date. Language and culture determine one another and desire to boot but there's something else in the mix, some other interest being served. Maybe men, rich men, rich heterosexual Western white men: the assholes on anyone's block. Theirs is the culture, theirs the language, theirs the everything else that has made us forget how we naturally speak or might be best made to, how we think and what we do and whether and how and whom we want. Perhaps there is an older way that has been forgotten. Perhaps there are uncontaminated traces extant. We must find them, feel them, the perhaps chirp chirp bosom bosom tribe tribe of

Theirs the culture, theirs the language, theirs the everything else but suppose we prove to them that they do not know what they think they know, because none of us can know whether we know, because of this potentially infinite contamination of thought. Applied to their icons, their stories, their smug assurances, our methods will terrify them, scatter their followers, raze their walls. From out of the rubble will spring

Trailings off intended. Welcome to theory.

(no subject)

William Shakespeare:

Among other things he figured out, Shakespeare figured out that the best of us, those that go out past town where the others commote until we are alone, do not know who we are, but move on, solving thing after thing, until we reach what cannot be solved. The different ways to be come about because there must be a choice of solutions, when we are faced with what cannot be solved--even if we cannot choose, we cannot help choosing. The choice to not choose is a choice, and maybe one resembling all the others at once, or in sequence. Shakespeare figured out that the best of us are therefore fucking crazy. In town there is no choosing. Town-people.

False solutions are not level. Where they leave the level, dirt gathers and dead leaves cake and animals wander in and make homes and die and are snowed on and suffused by fungi and layers calcify or are pressed into oozes and as seasons change feed strange-eyed flowers courted by fat flies and bees. Cornercake-people.

But Shakespeare, figuring out that this was so, got past the choice, and maybe (because how would I know) thought, what got me past the choice? What kinds of people get out past the choice? What rocking back and forth do you need to do to have been everywhere recently enough to remember it? What magic is this, what art, what wit? Shakespeare, all alone but sane, gave names to the Shakespeares that got him there. It was really something for a while; but of course the Shakespeares died, one by one, and the last went back to town. Shakespeare-people.