Friday, March 27, 2009



“Die Krise ist Permanent geworden” –Jacob Taubes


The bard stands at the opening of a new door, it is the gate and it is not even open, it lays shattered and giving way to a thorough-passage into motion –the place is still hidden, there only lays bare the movement of an action and a certain petty passion; there’s always a story being told here... The story isn’t, it doesn’t exist in itself (it ain’t yet), the raw indeterminate reality of existence determines something ripped off from its staves:

“ex” – out of itself

“is” – a non-relationship, intransitive expression, belatedness of the function in relation to the thing, purely phenomenal appearance of non-whatness

“tense”- geography of time, false hope, twilight

Let us turn to categories of speculative thinking: the dualistic map of a thought-out idea to match the thinking-in world doesn’t satisfy our instincts, we’re building upon a tree whose sin is not knowledge, but the fact that experience can shatter knowledge and that pure thought that arises from experience alone is a trigger, its only aim it so vanquish the world with rage –that deceitful world of contradiction and dearth of coincidence between the appearing and the inner constitution of the self that is always withdrawing into itself.

A story can’t just be – it is only being told… As to vanish later into the spider web of human associations, it is but these associations that are ciphered into the everyday foul play of colours and pairs and shaped objects what construes the soft tissue of human knowledge. Each story (and not every story, for “every” denotes a membership in an aggregate of generic objects –stories are both objects and subjects) contains the pegs of the linguistic map, they predate not the spoken word, but fully developed speech –the transit from Adam’s ability to name things in so far as they exist (exist as torn off from the generic world of possible and potential orientation into the actuality of their earthly passing, the Christ can’t save trees or dogs pissing by the trees –he can only save unearthly creatures, creatures come from another world so to say) to the first human song –the Song of the Sea sung by Moses as they crossed the Reed Sea and then the grand finale: Israel’s unison at the fulfilment of the first historical dream, the giving of the Holy Torah.

The pre-storical experience is both biological and linguistic, but it is not a commonplace, it is an affair of prophets and scribes… From story to story a Tower of Babel of right and wrong is erected, but the truth is not at the top leading us into heaven, it is but winding in both directions all the time, often running counter to the experience of the everyman, and so far no scriptural passage says hell is devoid of truth altogether. The Tower of Babel is the first memory –a memory that we don’t know where we come from any longer, and this is the most basic assumption of a story being told all the time, the assumption of memory and of Babel’s distant geography, unreachable, almost imaginary.

The originality demanded here is not epistemological –philosophy has forsaken insurance policies, nor is it teleological. Storical man is not all that willing to arrive home, his journey runs into the infinite future much more than into the commonplaces of his own lifetime –into the general future of absolute things such as life and the world rather than into the present-future of the present-present, thus the originality resides more in the citability of the structural experience of the story into the body of practical wisdom than in its uniqueness as content –too unique stories are unlikely to be commonplaces and therefore hardly stand the test of adding up to the hay of general knowledge –this is the greatest charm about the Bible. The citability is the ability of any storical association to stand for a historical question –historical not as scientific-historiographical or a station in the course of mankind’s appearance on earth, what is meant here by historical is bound and coeval with the human condition.

The story teller is disenchanted, he’s meant not to avoid or circumvent (which is impossible) the Final Judgment, but rather to delay it for as long as the morphology of this world can be kept. Whoever stands of his own will at the thread of the Judgment, such as Kafka and Kraus, they have melted themselves with and chosen to terminate the unrest in the pathic way –throwing themselves upon experience alone, so here there’s this recognition that every written word that follows from the ocular anxiety of Archimedes over our diminished size in the post-Paradise world, has made a failure of its author; one can as well choose the ontic way, but bare being, existence alone without the orientation of prophecy, is alive but mute. Whoever denies the Judgment as in the case of Sartre and De Beauvoir, he has lost the claim to the future and in so far as he is only looking toward the past, the future will be always desperate, inflexible, mechanistic… Their story can’t be told, they have made sure to lock up all the doors before the speech act is set into motion. This is the difference between the story-teller and the mythological; an association into time through genetics, for what could be more tautological than thinking out genetics in terms of eternity!


Geometrical forms such as shaped objects, lines, successions and points do point in the direction of something remarkable: the indeterminateness of story-telling; in this kind of thinking so much unlike in the case of metaphysics, the unities of the monad cannot be broken down piecemeal to the original parts unless one of two choices is made: one is to believe, that is, to take the basic concepts in the Cartesian plane as truisms, another is not to believe, that is, to understand the universe as infinite, and the person who chooses not to believe is but a theologian, he is working under the assumption that this isotropy is possible only within the greatest contingency –if the universe be infinite, it must necessarily have two measures: infinitely small to one end and infinitely big to the other end and perchance both ends meet and are but one. This is informing us only of one thing; that the idea of the infinite is but a tautology unless we hold on to it as a paradox –the paradox that infinity is only possible in space, that is, as long as we are not thinking in terms of measures. The schism within the spatial is that pure thought in contrast to the storical man, has encountered the space-place relationship as a network of functions and when there’re only functions, things can’t exist. Greek mathematicians knew this very well, that is why they were so troubled with reality, with suffering, not with everyday suffering but with the cosmic nothingness that paralyzed the Renaissance men, back in the day they only laughed, laughed once, like Socrates, but it was the laugh of shudder what they had.

The bard tells the story again, from Adam to our days, the same story, even in front of the numb eyes of the astronomer; now they all pray to keep the gates locked, they yearn for quiet and still of the dwelling place, they crave for the Romantic view of man, the appraisement of mental illness and the secret salons, the interesting mankind, the idle chat and romance. Perhaps only because it can’t be had anymore, even the naïve bard knows this too well. The salon is a discreet manner to keep the gates locked. No unleashing of human forces, let us leave everything up to God. The story isn’t, it doesn’t exist in itself (it ain’t yet), it is not an existence, it is an extension of life itself:

“ex” – out of itself

“tension” – space of time, true hope, looking at the time without a watch

“Extension” – Duration of time, in the Aristotelian and Thomistic philosophies extension is a fundamental attribute of substance/matter that makes it possible to divide into smaller parts. The other attributes refer to extension as the immediate subject of the substance, whereas the extension is referred back to the thing in itself. Geometrically speaking it is a property of bodies in general to occupy a certain measure of space but in Logic it is a grouping of objects to which it is applied a common knowledge element.

The story is an extension of life itself in that experience is only reflected as a past of the present thrown upon an absolute future; for we are always losing hold of the sentiment in the present tense, and a unique personal non-verbal past doesn’t reflect individuality but cosmic loneliness. If Aristotle had any idea about time and therefore about space, he would agree to the fact that the extension contains all the logical possibilities of the geometrical surface, except one –that of its own reality, and this is definable only negatively not as a syllogism that cancels logical fallacy whenever possible, but as the knowledge that the origin of man is unknown and this is precisely the reason why the law in whichever form predates any form of history, religion and culture. The bard holds the key to the Messianic charade, he keeps the gates locked. Giants walk in through a rivulet trespassing the bard’s prohibition and later return, breaking into tears.

We’re building upon a tree, branching out, into singled-out objects realizable only in their association, growing roots but decaying and growing again, thrown into life, and just as violently taken out, always relying on a previous image of ourselves, but the tree is safer than the Tower of Babel. It is earth-bound, like us. Had we but the freedom of monads!

“You’re walking up the ladder, heading always downwards”


A is logical, B is necessary (without the world or the work)

A ≠ B

A wills B, so that A ≥ B

However, A does not contain B, so that (A) is not (B)

Invalid propositions are A+B, A ≤ B, A+A, xⁿ A = A ∙ n

Valid propositions are A ≈ ∞, ∑A ≡ xⁿ B but ∑ B ≠ A

General Propositions are Bⁿ = a + b + c ∫ B, A = A

Relationship of A to B in terms of x:

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