what a rest ___-----------------Out for a wa lk ////////////////////________________)..................>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A schizophrenic out for a walk is a better model than a neurotic lying on the
analyst's couch.

                                       A breath of fresh air, a relationship with the outside world.
Lenz's stroll, for example, as reconstructed by Buchner.

                                                                 This walk outdoors is
different from the moments when Lenz finds himself closeted with his pastor,
who forces him to situate himself socially, in relationship to the God of
established religion, in relationship to his father, to his mother. 

While taking a
stroll outdoors, on the other hand, he is in the mountains, amid falling
snowfiakes, with other gods or without any gods at all, without a family, without
a father or a mother, with nature. "What does my father want? Can he offer me
more than that? Impossible. Leave me in peace."

                              Everything is a machine.
Celestial machines, 

the stars or rainbows in the sky,

 alpine machines— all of
                                                              them connected to
those of his body. 

The continual whirr of machines.

thought that it must be a feeling of endless bliss to be in contact with the
profound life of every form, to have a soul for rocks, metals, water, and plants, to
take into himself, as in a dream, every element of nature, like flowers that breathe
with the waxing and waning of the moon."la To be a chlorophyll- or a
photosynthesis-machine, or at least slip his body into such machines as one part
among the others.

 Lenz has projected himself back to a time before the
man-nature dichotomy, before all the co-ordinates based on this fundamental
dichotomy have been laid down. 

                                                    He does not live nature as nature, but as a
process of production. There is no such thing as either man or nature now, only a
process that produces the one within the other and couples the machines together.

                                                                                                                                  Producing-machines, desiring-machines everywhere, schizophrenic machines, all
of species life: the self and the non-self, outside and inside, no longer have any
meaning whatsoever.

Now that we have had a look at this stroll of a schizo, let us compare what
happens when Samuel Beckett's characters decide to venture outdoors. Their
various gaits and methods of self-locomotion constitute, in and of themselves, a
finely tuned machine. And then there is the function of the bicycle in Beckett's
works: what relationship does the bicycle-horn machine have with the
mother-anus machine?
       What  a  rest
 rest to speak of bicycles and horns. Unfortunately it is not of them I have to
speak, but of her who brought me into the world, through the hole in her arse if
my memory is correct."
                                          "What    a    REST

rest to speak of bicycles and horns. Unfortunately it is not of them I have to
speak, but of her who brought me into the world, through the hole in her arse if
my memory is correct."                                                           It is often thought that Oedipus* is an easy subject to
deal with, something perfectly obvious, a "given" that is there from the very
beginning. But that is not so at all: Oedipus presupposes a fantastic repression of
desiring-machines. And why are they repressed? To what end?

                                                               Is it really
necessary or desirable to submit to such repression? And what means are to be
used to accomplish this? What ought to go inside the Oedipal triangle, what sort
of thing is required to construct it? Are a bicycle horn and my mother's arse
sufficient to do the

Aren't there more important questions than these,
however? Given a certain effect, what machine is capable of producing it? And
given a certain machine, what can it be used for? Can we possibly guess, for
instance, what a knife rest is used for if all we are given is a geometrical

description of it? Or yet another example: on being confronted with a complete
machine made up of six stones in the right-hand pocket of my coat (the pocket
that serves as the source of the stones), five stones in the right-hand pocket of my
trousers, and five in the left-hand pocket (transmission pockets), with the
remaining pocket of my coat receiving the stones that have already been handled,
as each of the stones moves forward one pocket, how can we determine the effect
of this circuit of distribution in which the mouth, too, plays a role as a
stone-sucking machine? Where in this entire circuit do we find the production of
sexual pleasure? At the end of Malone Dies, Lady Pedal takes the schizophrenics
out for a ride in a van and a rowboat, and on a picnic in the midst of nature: an
infernal machine is being assembled. "Under the skin the body is an over-heated
factory,/ and outside,/ the invalid shines,/ glows,/ from every burst pore."

This does not mean that we are attempting to make nature one of the poles
of schizophrenia. What the schizophrenic experiences, both as an individual and
as a member of the human species, is not at all any one specific aspect of nature,
but nature as a process of production. What do we mean here by process? It is
probable that at a certain level nature and industry are two separate and distinct


things: from one point of view, industry is the opposite of nature; from another,
industry extracts its raw materials from nature; from yet another, it returns its
refuse to nature; and so on. Even within society, this characteristic man-nature,
industry-nature, society-nature relationship is responsible for the dis-

tinction of relatively autonomous spheres that are called production,
distribution, consumption. But in general this entire level of distinctions,
examined from the point of view of its formal developed structures,
presupposes (as Marx has demonstrated) not only the existence of
capital and the division of labor, but also the false consciousness that the
capitalist being necessarily acquires, both of itself and of the supposedly
fixed elements within an over-all process.

                                               For the real truth of the
matter—the glaring, sober truth that resides in delirium—is that there is
no such thing as relatively independent spheres or circuits: production is
immediately consumption and a recording process (enregistrement*),
                                            without any sort of mediation, and the recording process and consumption
directly determine production, though they do so within the
                                   production process itself.

He    erything is production: production of
productions, of actions and of passions; productions of recording
processes, of distributions and of co-ordinates that serve as points of
reference; productions of consumptions, of sensual pleasures, of anxieties,
and of pain. Everything is production, since the recording processes
are immediately consumed, immediately consummated, and these consumptions
directly reproduced.+ This is the first meaning of process as
we use the term: incorporating recording and consumption within
production itself, thus making them the productions of one and the same

                               Second, we make no distinction between man and nature



human essence of nature and the natural essence of man become one

within nature in the form of production or industry, just as they do

within the life of man as a species.