Everything is a sort of simulacrum for the word, everything a shifting phantasmagoria. The leaves more than language. I grow tired of the old descriptions. I step outside the page when night descends and see them align—a sound, a syllable—between two skies. The leaves, the stars hung low there with the weight of cold. The leaves don’t exist to be named.
6:50 pm 29 notes
Within the trees I no longer can see any trees.
The branches are bare of leaves, carried off by the wind.
The fruits are sweet, but empty of love.
They do not even satisfy.
What shall happen?
Before my eyes the forest flees,
bird song no longer reaching my ears,
and for me no pasture will become a bed.
I am full with time
yet hunger for it.
What shall happen?
Nightly upon the mountains the fires will burn.
Shall I prepare myself to draw near to them all again?
I can no longer see on any path a path.”
— Ingeborg Bachmann, “Estrangement”
6:29 pm 86 notes
Still it’s too early for sowing. Fields
surface in rain, March stars appear.
Like an afterthought, the universe submits
to familiar equations, such as the light
that falls but leaves the snow untouched.
Under the snow there will also be dust
and, what doesn’t disintegrate, the dust’s
later nourishment. O wind, picking up.
Again the plows rip open the darkness.
Each new day will want to be longer.
It’s on long days that we are sown,
unasked, in those neat and crooked rows,
as stars sink away above. In fields
we thrive or rot without a choice,
submitting to rain and also at last the light.
— Ingeborg Bachmann, “March Stars”
6:24 pm 22 notes
7:39 pm 63 notes
— Judith Butler, Bodies That Matter
7:19 pm 81 notes
"Not to have one meaning is to have no meaning" (Aristotle).
Thus communication between men is possible only if words have a meaning, i.e., one meaning.”
— Paul Ricoeur, Freud & Philosophy: An Essay on Interpretation
1:15 pm 21 notes
I. Mathematics is not the study of objects but instead the relations between them.
II. Semiotics is not the study of words but instead the relations between them.
III. Everything consists of nothing. The space between infinities.
12:10 am 202 notes
How kind. Thank you, this made my day.
9:30 pm 9 notes
— Gilles Deleuze, "Nietzsche’s Burst of Laughter: Interview"
5:22 pm 146 notes
— John D. Caputo, ”For the Love of Things Themselves: Derrida’s Hyper-Realism”
5:12 pm 36 notes
4:53 pm 38 notes
Today consists of too much coffee & too much Schopenhauer, thus the strange combination of a jittery sort of melancholy.
4:01 pm 14 notes
Joseph Massey, “December,” Exit North
— Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter
3:57 pm 71 notes
— Hayden Carruth, Reluctantly: Autobiographical Essays (via heteroglossia)
8:52 pm 68 notes