Catch this One Eurydice its said is reaved of light. her ass bouncing to hell. A bit muchdont ya think when the world. captures hate each hourglass 's ought to be mated by open desire machies
flew to the shades;"
This blog continues extends the work of becomings in the Fictions of D&G blogs__ examine&explore the text of A/O but not limit ourselves __ invention and connection stammer stutter __ perform interactions on A/O and oTHER tEXTS oUTside.Language is a machine bodywithoUtOrgans__ Experiment Invent, never interpret. How does the machine work, how does one plug a blog into a famous book, that is itself a translation from another language, another machine, the French language_pragmanticism.
The synthesizer, with its operation of consistency, has taken the place of the ground in a priori synthetic judgement: its synthesis is of the molecular and the cosmic, material and force, not form and matter, Grund and territory. Philosophy is no longer synthetic judgement; it is like a thought synthesiser functioning to make thought travel, make it mobile, make it a force of the Cosmos (in the same way one makes sound travel)._______________________
Artaud puts it well: all writing is so much pig shit--that is to say, any literature that takes itself as an end or sets ends for itself, instead of being a process that "ploughs the crap of being and its language," transports the weak, the aphasiacs, the illiterate._______________________
[T]he signifier is merely the deterritorialized sign itself. The sign made letter. Desire no longer dares to desire, having become a desire of desire, a desire of the despot's desire. The mouth no longer speaks, it drinks the letter. The eye no longer sees, it reads. The body no longer allows itself to be engraved like the earth, but postrates itself before the engravings of the despot, the region beyond the earth, the new full body._______________________
There are those who will maintain that the schizo is incapable of uttering the word I, and that we must restore his ability to pronounce this hallowed word. All of which the schizo sums up by saying: they're fucking me over again.
«Expérimenter de nouveaux langages pour produire de nouvelles subjectivités, de nouvelles causes et un nouveau regard politique»
A true politics of psychiatry, or antipsychiatry, would consist
therefore in the following praxis: (1) undoing all the reterritorializations
that transform madness into mental illness; (2) liberating the schizoid
movement of deterritorialization in all the flows, in such a way that this
characteristic can no longer qualify a particular residue as a flow of
madness, but affects just as well the flows of labor and desire, of
production, knowledge, and creation in their most profound tendency.
Here, madness would no longer exist as madness, not because it would
have been transformed into "mental illness," but on the contrary because
it would receive the support of all the other flows, including science and
art—once it is said that madness is called madness and appears as such
only because it is deprived of this support, and finds itself reduced to
testifying all alone for deterritorialization as a universal process. It is
merely its unwarranted privilege, a privilege beyond its capacities, that
renders it mad. In this perspective Foucault announced an age when
madness would disappear, not because it would be lodged within the
controlled space of mental illness ("great tepid aquariums"), but on the
contrary because the exterior limit designated by madness would be
overcome by means of other flows escaping control on all sides, and
carrying us along.*
It should therefore be said that one can never go far enough in the
direction of deterritorialization: you haven't seen anything yet—an
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