Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1008161034550.21816@panix1.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: A-Non-Anti-Un-Manifesto for Talan Memmott
Date: Mon, 16 Aug 2010 10:35:38 -0400 (EDT)
Non-Manifesto Be it enacted here [by whom? for what? under what authority? what diegetic form constructing the appearance of truth? enacted where? < inscription is always already virtual; inscription is the _only_ virtual >] that the concept of the manifesto is already - has always been - outdated, useless, nonsensical - through its very presence, the harbinger of an untoward tendency towards an Absolute that is Father-in-arms with inerrancy - the result and residue of a backlash in association - entwined with - religion and Enlightenment < simultaneously deconstructing the appetition of both > as if wounds were there for a _fundamental suturing_ - Manifesto = structure = guidelines = bracketed territory = symbolic = purity = cleansed = asservation = truth tables = null incision between x and ~x = coagulation-fantasm as singularity = death = writing degree 1 = deadwood = protocol statements = Nicod's formulation of the propositional calculus = homesteading within the Sheffer stroke and its dual = Web 0.0. Where there's emission /\ spray /\ spew /\ spawn /\ slough /\ swamp /\ stutter | shudder | sputter | spatter | spitter | spotter | splatter | splitter | clatter | clutter | scatter ... What is uncountable (is) unaccountable, unaccounted-for = > denying the dead territorialization of the manifesto. I don't want to know you and your manifestos. I don't want to know your interspersions of logical numbering, as if Wittgenstein's TLP were something other than the scattered remnants of classicism and I don't want your candles' burning the last prop as if mysticism somehow were the fabric of space and time. I don't want your pseudo-math as if mathesis justifies anything you have to say. I don't want your neologisms as if the world weren't on fire, as if greed and competition were in the guise of truth beneath the true-real sign of superstructure. I don't want your dead nineteenth-century manifestos, enormous philosophical structures based on concepts crash-landing in the midst of local wars, neo-colonialisms, monstrous religious visions of futures and gods. I don't want your concepts. I don't want your manifesto. Things fall apart. There's no good time to die. No one dies before her time. No one dies before his time. No one lives on borrowed time. Every death annihilates a world. Every killing is an apocalypse. Every culture is abjection. Every abjection is a slaughter. Every slaughter is a life. Every life is culture. There is no organism without culture. There is no organism without inscription. Inscription sloughs into abjection. Organism collapses into annihilation. Manifesto is an ugly carapace. Manifesto kills the thing it loves. I want to live forever. I want non-acts of loving kind. I don't want your inscription-abjection. Nothing there is I want. I want for nothing. I don't want your manifesto.