The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


When I went through my collected writing in the Internet Text for a
forthcoming book, I found far too many of the pieces were depressive,
almost suicidal in nature. The irreconcilable logic of the family leaked
into a theoretical that would have been, by far, the better had it been
purified; I look towards Carnap, Wittgenstein, Jabes, rather than Lingis
or Freud. Lacan took refuge in distorted mathesis; I tend towards the
diagram below/elsewhere, another leakage from power into the register of
cleansed perception; when dirt enters the eye, vision suffers, but not
within the aegis of dirt.

Below: Filth is hammered among polarities.

Of course pama-mapa is certainly a case of entanglement, strings attached.
The Other continues an afterimage. Just an afterimage.

There is always a blankness, flatness, to the image. The real is already
flattened at the horizon/on the horizon:

The real is the horizon.

{ Appearances: falling into the real.
( The inextricable alienness of the world: non-Aristotelian.
{ Dasein.

Someday a post-phenomenologist will begin with the human and devolve,
backed up against particles, replete with awkward metaphors.

{ As if particles were generated by organism.
{ As if scales implied hierarchies and emergence.
{ Think of submergence, details lost per particle, recuperated in the
{ irretrievable ensemble.

{ Our humanities: struggling with bad metaphors.

For cause skims the surface of froth, organization is the masquerade of

{ We bring masquerade to the masquerade of the world.

{ Instead of nothing, so many things for so short a space and time.
{ We have no concept of their persuasion.

{ Of persuasion, anyone; of concept, none.

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