8/13/2015

the two

 Rhizome
==========================
The two of us wrote
Anti-Oedipus
together. Since each of us was
several, there was already quite a crowd. Here we have made use of
everything came within range, what was closest as well as farthest
away. We assigned clever pseudonyms to prevent recognition. Why
have we kept own names? Out of habit, purely out of habit. To make
ourselves unrecognizable in turn. To render imperceptible, not
ourselves, but what makes us act, feel, and think. Also because it's
nice to talk like everybody else, to say the sun rises, when everybody
knows it's only a manner of speaking. To reach, not the point where
one no longer says I, but the point where it is no longer of any
importance whether one says I. We are no longer ourselves. Each will
know his own. We have been aided, inspired, multiplied.
A book has neither object nor subject; it is made of variously for
matters, and very different dates and speeds. To attribute the book
subject is to overlook this working of matters, and the exteriority of
their
relations. It is to fabricate a beneficent God to explain
geological movements. In a book, as in all things, there are lines of
articulation segmentarity, strata and territories; but also lines of
flight, movement deterritorialization and destratification.
Comparative rates of flow on

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4
these lines produce phenomena of relative slowness and viscosity, or,
on contrary, of acceleration and rupture. All this, lines and
measurable speeds, constitutes an
assemblage.
A book is an
assemblage of this kind, and as such is unattributable. It is a
multiplicity-but we don't know yet at the multiple entails when it is no
longer attributed, that is, after it has been elevated to the status of a
substantive. One side of a machinic assemblage faces the strata,
which doubtless make it a kind of organism, or signing totality, or
determination attributable to a subject; it also has a side facing a
body
without organs,
which is continually dismantling the organism,
causing asignifying particles or pure intensities to pass or circulate,
and attributing to itself subjects that it leaves with nothing more than
a name as the trace of an intensity. What is the body without organs
of a book? There are several, depending on the nature of the lines
considered, their particular grade or density, and the possibility of
their converging on "plane of consistency" assuring their selection.
Here, as elsewhere, the units of measure are what is essential:
quantify writing.
There is no difference between what a book talks
about and how it is made. Therefore a book has no object. As an
assemblage, a book has only itself, in connection with other
assemblages and in relation to other bodies without organs. We will
never ask what a book means, as signified or signifier; we will not
look for anything to understand in it. We will ask what it functions
with, in connection with what other things it does or does not transmit
intensities, in which other multiplicities its own are inserted and
metamorphosed, and with what bodies without organs it makes its
own converge. A book exists only through the outside and on the
outside. A book itself is a little machine; what is the relation (also
measurable) of this literary machine to a war machine, love machine,
revolutionary machine, etc.-and an
abstract machine
that sweeps
them along? We have been criticized for overquoting literary authors.
But when one writes, the only question is which other machine the
literary machine can be plugged into, must be plugged into in order to
work. Kleist and a mad war machine, Kafka and a most extraordinary
bureaucratic machine
...
(What if one became animal or plant through
literature, which certainly does not mean literarily? Is it not first
through the voice that one becomes animal?) Literature is an
assemblage. It has nothing to do with ideology. There is no ideology
and never has been.
All we talk about are multiplicities, lines, strata and
segmentarities, ines of flight and intensities, machinic assemblages
and their various ypes, bodies without organs and their construction
and selection, the )lane of consistency, and in each case the units of
measure.
Stratometers, teleometers, BwO units of density, BwO units
of convergence:
Not only do hese constitute a quantification of
writing, but they define writing as ilways the measure of something
else. Writing has nothing to do with

=====================================
Ça
fonctionne
partout,
tantôt
sans
arrêt,
tantôt
discon­
tinu.
Ça
respire,
ça
chauffe,
ça
mange.
Ça
chie,
ça
bcl.Ïse.
Quelle
erreur
d'avoir
dit
le
ça.
Partout
ce
sont
des
machines,
pas
du
tout
métaphoriquement
:
des
machines
de
machines,
avec
leurs
couplages,
leurs
connexions.
Une
machine-organe
est
branchée
sur
une
machine-source
:
l'une
émet
un
flux,
que
l'autre
coupe.
Le
sein
est
une
machine
qui
produit
du
lait,
et
la
bouche,
une
machine
couplée
sur
celle-là.
La
bouche
de
l'anorexique
hésite
entre
une
machine
à
manger,
une
machine
anale,
une
machine
à
parler,
une
machine
à
respirer
(crise
d'asthme).
C'est
ainsi
qu'on
est
tous
brico­
leurs;
chacun
ses
petites
machines.
Une
machine-organe
pour
une
machine-énergie,
toujours
des
flux
et
des
coupures.
Le
président
Schreber
a
les
rayons
du
ciel
dans
le
cul.
Anus
solaire.
Et
soyez
sûrs
que
ça
marche;
le
président
Schreber
sent
quelque
chose,
produit
quelque
chose,
et
peut
en
faire
la
théorie.
Quelque
chose
se
produit
:
des
effets
de
machine,
et
non
des
métaphores.
La
promenade
du
schizophrène
:
c'est
un
meilleur
modèle
que
le
névrosé
couché
sur
le
divan.
Un
peu
de
grand
air,
une
relation
avec
le
dehors.
Par
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