Skizoposting no. 11: What's it all about?

Here’s the thing, one of the central subjects for me is a structure inherent in reality (it expresses itself in our metaphysics, in music theory, in essentially all levels of reality) that, inherently, shifts in response to language’s invasive tendrils; the only way to speak about it, without causing it to distort due to its own self-motion, is by moving in turn, like a dance. This counter-movement takes the form of “ex-propriating” terms from foreign disciplines, culture-jamming signals, spreading alien mimetics, hijacking a concept from over here and using it to hack an unrelated concept over here, etc. It involves accelerating complexification and rhetorical strategies. It also involves using multiple languages side by side like puzzle pieces in the reconstruction of an otherwise irrecoverable loci of meaning that was aborted by the very semiogenetic event itself- the fracturing of tongues, the Tower of Babel. Using multiple languages in inventive ways allows you to, again, sustain this counter-dance in the face of the subject I am alluding to- which I won’t name explicitly, because I’m keeping this meta. The bizarre prose I venture, filled with references, foreign languages, multiple lexicons and jargons,- this is me performing the necessary counter-movement, a dance needed to keep this subject I am writing about from slipping away. That subject? Ah, you can piece together what it is from my activity in this forum. Why spoil the fun of it? (I would also add that blending myth, fiction, real history, metafiction, hyperstitition, etc. is another way to sustain this counter-movement.)

What is that mysterious subject I am alluding to? It is absence. Nullity. I’m alluding to the nothingness which haunts all presence, the Nullity at the center of language, and its self-reversing sign. If I spell it out and “name” it, it sets up a minimal differend that’s going to end up precipitating the dialectical interplay of metaphysical presence I’m trying to avoid. I’ll get to the notions of the minima/differend later.

Chiasmatic reversed predication: the Sign reverses itself, forcing what Kunze called an “unlimited semiosis”- unrestrained, hyper-mimetic viral replication of the sign across infinite recursive levels of irony. The irony gets so deep that we start talking about summoning chronodemons with eldritch gematria. The self-reversing nullity at the center of the semiotic network,- the preparatory sign par excellence,- (an “absent third”) is half-represented by the word “the negative”,- the thing supposedly converted into an affirmation through Hegelian dialectic, which tries, as does almost all philosophy, to close off the semiogenetic event- to restrain semiosis, to restrain meaning-production and stabilize the Logos in the flow of history. Yeah: the point of my philosophy is- it isn’t converted: the negative remains negative, and, in order to deal with the unrestrained semiosis, we address the negative, not directly, but through a complex layer of poly-linguistic, rhetorically inflated, “diplocyclonic cryptopoetics”, because otherwise, the Negative is going to keep reversing its own predication, its own sign. Our own philosophy and language must continue in a kind of dance, a constant counter-movement against the shifting contours of this nullifying non-presence, the 'absence of Being" at the URGRUND of our metaphysics. This higher language, in constant motion, is essentially our deploying an ‘intrinsic operational semiotic’ as

Thus

It is the attempt to convert into presence,- to forget, to push away metaphysical absence; it is this “negation of the negation” infecting all Hegelian thinking, against which I am most ardently poised for attack. In order to preserve the Negative and resist this artificial construction of positive knowledge out of metaphysical presence, (the construction of the “ontos”) this higher language is required, the language I utilize,- a language capable of continuous movement,- one able to match the shifting nebula at the center of the network, the self-reversing Sign. I’m not just using it to flex on people- although that’s part of it, yeah.

(the “Event” in the following text refers to the basic semiogenetic ‘event’, the origin of Language, which I note here

^ Of that virality or free-mimesis: (the symbolic-exchange function)

I simply propose that Western philosophical discourse is grounded on an ancient aporia, a silence it refuses to remember; a Freudo-Lacanian repression, a… fetish. One that lies in the conversion of all metaphysical negativity into a presence, the presence of Being, the ontos, an artificial construction.

^ Since I am addressing Deleuzians in this passage, note that “deterritorialized, infinite multiplicities” is basically synonymous with what I earlier called “viral replication of the sign”, which results from free-mimesis, the suspension of the mimetic function, etc. ; these are both formula describing the meaningless kind of “difference” championed by modernity, academia, Leftists, etc.

There is a truer kind of difference, (one beyond the subject-object difference… an inherent difference) one needed to stabilize the binary, chiasmatic relationship between those concepts the dialectic would fuse. This relationship, the fundamental anti-dialectic, I refer to as the transcendental analogia.

This analogia, a kind of non-synthesis, expands into a four-fold division (thus, I call it the tetra-pole) instead of a dialectic stabilized in a third term. Drawing on Eriugena’s four-fold treatment of causality, in his theology:

harman tetrapole 1.PNGharman tetrapole 2.PNG

It- this truer difference- requires the preservation of the category of the Negative, the Null, along with this tetrapolar arrangement. This difference is involved in what I call the apocrisis, this being my own coinage and original concept: it instigates a difference(/ing) within the structure of subjectivity itself, namely through the reversal of the Sign, which I have elaborated on in the thread.

My use of Duncan’s “gnostic contagion”, the “cancer of poetry”, the “Sparean metastasis” that has totally exploded my own prose in all directions, recalls my earlier digressions on Seneca’s “licentia oratio corruptis”,- a destabilizing corruption that springs from within the Word itself, as this true difference springs, out of the Negative, into the structure of subjectivity itself:

[P. 2]

This “differend” I’ve noted in several places, a contagion-of-contagion, (a meta-meme, meme-complex; KEK) this invasive minimal-difference, is responsible for originating the univocity of the dialectic, which represses the mysterious “absence of the Third” that haunts the specter of Being (closing off philosophy to the fourth episteme, Being-per-transcendentiam, the last quadrant in the tetrapole) with the “self-reversing/ self-difference/ing Sign” and “ultimately binds presences to their own flattening and homogenization”, absorbing all the contents of Thought (of Consciousness) into the skeletal reconstruction of the universe which is, in Hegel’s phrase, “positive knowledge”,- a semiotic Universe in which all Signs have been stabilized in a metaphysics of presence:

This “uniterable structure” which forms around the ontological minima of difference,

Thus, returning to the beginning of the post, my effort to disentangle the metaphysics of presence and return us to the aporia of absence recovered from Plato is, ultimately, an effort to disentangle the ZAHIR, to escape the event-horizon of it’s ontological black-hole.

“… by recapitulating an internal division within the subject itself, further transmutes its own predication …”

Death… It’s like cutting a little space out of the circumference of a circle, the circle being your self-reflective consciousness, and letting go… the circle immediately closes again, smaller, but it can still hold an infinitely many lines passing from its center to its circumference, with these lines being the moments of your life, the segments of your awareness. Smaller, but still infinite, as infinite as before… Death keeps cutting small pieces out of the circle, and the circle keeps re-closing itself, ad infinitum, forever, without ever getting to point where the circle actually disappears into a point; it is maintained infinitesimally, and remains unbroken (as consciousness) by this repeated “internal division”, even when its circumference is too small to even be calculated anymore, beyond the Planck scale- an infinitesimal pseudo-singularity. Reminds me of a quote from a philosophical novel by Haruki Murakami:

“Your body dies, your consciousness passes away, but your body is caught in that one tautological point an instant before, subdividing for eternity. Think about the koan: An arrow is stopped in flight. Well the death of the body is the flight of the arrow. No dodging it, not for anyone. People have to die, the body has to fall. Time is hurling that arrow forward. And yet, like I was saying, thought goes on dividing that time for ever and ever. The paradox becomes real. The arrow never hits.”

The language here- division, dividing, separation, recalls something else of my writing and philosophy, which I touched on in another thread: Love, Death, Goethe; the angels which cannot ‘completely divide the elements of creation’ which death tears apart, a mote of mortality remains that is painful to them. Painful to them… that recalls William Blake’s Provers from Hell:

“As I was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.”-- William Blake.

This is a trait of my work in general: everything connects to everything else in my writing. You go insane inter-connecting everything. Page 689 of this book I wrote refers back to page 38 of this book I wrote which refers to page 229 of this book I wrote which …

///// Love, Death, Goethe:
Ah, a nihilist, believing that “nothing”, which is death, could be something. There is no hole in consciousness, as there is no hole in your visual field to mark the limit of how far you can see. Death simply does not exist. Not as anything more than a noise you make with your face-hole, anyway. It is not just love that lasts beyond death,- but everything, though love is special in marking the shape of our lives. You quantum tunnel back to the moment of your birth when you die, gradually tracing a path through the possibility-tree constructed from the level of binary-urs until the original, stochastic-seed at the root has been totally exhausted: quantum immortality, I wrote posts about it here in the past. Recurrence, and not the Nietzschean kind- not a mere moral test, I mean actual recurrence. Hell, you don’t even need to jump into tensor math and ur-alternatives and information-theoretic physics,-- just the mere fact that the “real”, ontologically primary reality is not confined to our 4-dimensional spacetime manifold and the 3-dimensional, low-fidelity Platonic cave, the world of shadows where we live and die and Time moves in a straight line toward entropic maxima, is enough to rebuke your little diatribe against the immortality of the soul. Learn to think at the height of a 10-dimensional hyperspace! How sad is it to live in a world of 3-dimensions, a mortal world, a world of empty shadows, such a fallen state in comparison to, well, this world accessible to the Philosopher, the world of the Forms, the Platonic heaven, the eroto-cosmic anabasis, the rapture of the Klagean Images! A world of music; eternal music; the music of the spheres, as the ancients preferred to name it. No philosopher treats death as anything more than a failure of genius, a misstep of reason; the sign of the uninitiated, of those not yet borne up in the mysteries of Eleusis. It’s a noise made by a monkey and you think it powerful enough to destroy the universe? That, my friend, is, I have found, one of the funniest ideas commonly accepted by people. But to the thread’s subject:

Love marks the life you refused or were unable to live,- (and thus, the life that you were able to, strong enough for, and did live, as well) the life that, in a word, gathers inside you, inside that closed circle of time- a weight you bring back with you to the beginning, and carry, forever, as your soul’s debt, the thing that imprisons you on the Tantalus breaking-wheel of Samsara.

I invite you to think beyond your nihilistic abnegation. From one of my books: (This particular essay, cursorily, having originated from a sequence of letters between me and the one woman I loved, and will ever love. My great philosopher-sister, the only star that redoubled my own’s light; my only echo in the firmament, if one believes, with Plato, that each living soul was descended from its own star’s radiance.)

There is no resolution. This is the mote of mortality that remains, so “painful to the angels”.

Painful to the angels, yes. But pleasure, for the same reason, to genius:

“As I was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.” William Blake, Proverbs of Hell. ////

And that internal division, to which I refer: the chiasmus at the core of the semiotic universe, beneath the psychic Registers, associated with the “symbolic-exchange”/“symbolic function” and language. On that note, I’ve developed a whole theory of language, working off generative anthropology, where evolutionary processes are combined with both Freudo-Lacanian psychoanalysis and economics. Firstly:

So excess libido is cathected, attached (What Zapffecalls “anchored”) to something like food as members of a tribe internally compete for it, or perhaps the right to breed- things like this. Eventually, the “value” or cathexis has begun to virally replicate and grow, until it becomes a holy object or sacred sight, the center of some kind of religious worship. It has transcended the level of ‘guy with the biggest stick gets it’: here we begin to invoke the symbolic function. We develop what I call an “ecotic network” to negotiate the value of these mimetically inflated objects:

This network forms a “chiasmus” at its center: a structure of up-down, sacred-profane, heaven-earth: the basis of the symbolic-function upon which the structured semiotic universe of our language rests:

Now here is the problem. This runaway cathexis of desire invokes the symbolic function, language emerges; but then language actually magnifies the desire even more through mimesis, in an accelerating bent. Technology and, eventually, the Internet, further accelerate the mimetic replication and eventual inflation of desire:

We are in the middle of this runaway process, beyond which nobody is prepared to see. Postmodernity, the current culture war, the total madness, confusion of gender, etc.- all that is a symptom of this inner transformation, and the end of it, the thing we are transforming into… is beyond any of us.