shadow citizens,
I'm reading the last couple days posts and it's so heavy with nostalgia for what? A lost time that we know memory can never hold and so capitalized for some sort of position and a just one no doubt. The failure of memory is always brought to mind in these sort of nostalgic academic discussions against the erosion of time. Heidegger would be silent of course and would just point out the intimate proximity of a worlding world with a broad view open to all perspectives where the cool waters of a river constantly submits to the hardness of the earth. A river that irigates this little graden at the heart of Persephone with the truth of an image that operates like a joker in deck of cards, a blank domino, or the uncarved block of wood of a Lao Tzu. Very flexible to the whatever the occasion brings good or bad fortune is all the same. Memory is an attempt to prolonge the experience of time. It tries to freeze and fix that which flows into a picture with characters and events you can talk *about*. This is all important for writing a nice paper that shows how responsible you are to the public and how beautiful your heart is but time erodes everything and most people don't care about history and rightly so for life is lived in the present tense. Our garden of pleasure is here in this weaving turbulence of an intensity without duration, without a memory and cared for by a period that conceals everything. Life always starts here in the middle somewhere again and just goes on and doesn't stop arriving except when it is killed by some overly ambitous idea that would want to hold on to our past time. What stupid violence ideas and their points of views perpetuate. It's a shameful waste of a good mind and life to have ideas. Can anyone blame us for wanting to withdraw and remain in our little garden? Here is our final resting place where we cultivate real peace and pass no information that could shape a mind into a clear idea that could be worked into a point of view and a position which is the habit of blockheads, you know, those who are a little dense and slow. In a garden we relinquish all conceptual horizons and remain flexible so that we can respond well to whatever the occassion requires. This is what keeps us ordinary and local and without an inflated head articulating a people's memory and the substantive properties of their subjectivity. Plague of unconscious imperialists is what it is this prolongation of European nostalgia. I can't go on... it's disgusting....
tympan
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