/lit/ - Literature

>>11118926
kek. i don't know how interesting that would be. as strange as this may seem, i don't really like being the center of attention. it's the glass bead game itself that is interesting to me, not the players. so that would be be one thing. i don't want the focus to be on me but a kind of general coherence-building project.

but maybe this would be more illuminating. if i had a sort of a goal, or aim, it might be analogous to a kind of wasteland scavenger hunt. everybody likes scavenger hunts, right? we all like those. well, in theory, maybe we're searching for The Meaning. telling a big story in that sense and sort of assembling it out of its components. in some sense the sky has fallen, and all around us lie, in spectacular ruination, the various parts and fragments of what once was once a pretty vast edifice: the Logos. the sacred and the profane are collapsed into each other here in a sort of gorgeous wreckage. as /lit/erary combination critics, scavengers, collectors and curators, we now get to begin sifting all of this.

this isn't logocentricism. somewhere out there the universities and other intellectual kingdoms are doing their own things. it is not crazy to speculate on the manufacture of thought. what i would prefer is something much less romantic or heroic: a kind of diaspora of rag-and-bone shop collectors and curio dealers in a loose and improvisational affiliation. like a post-apocalyptic or post-war war machine.

b/c what if this is what the symbolic landscape looks like? i'd like to gently break some of this awful gravity that belongs to The Other and so on. a pure creativity tries to do this, but ultimately still winds up trapped in a university discourse that trends towards these invisible centers or gravitational points: at bottom, some unbearable and unnameable inequality or discrimination.

but *collecting* is a really, really interesting phenomenon. and so is assembling, engineering, and so on. the vast sargasso sea of culture is all kind of just sitting there and baking in the sun. but it's misguided to have overly romantic dreams about it. that inner romanticism, the ghost of power, is what put us where we are today.

it's true, in some sense, that you can say that girard is derrida's evil twin. i don't really derrida, but it seems apropos that we wind up coming to resemble that which we dislike if we can't overhear ourselves when we project what we dislike. so questions of justice and soteriology are things that i want to stay away from, since for the time being i have a hard time separating them from mimesis.

it's the matrix seen from the outside. in lieu of space the final frontier for the next generation may well be capitalism, an ocean of consciousness, and a semiotic explosion produced by the internet and social media. probably a prelude to cultural algorithimicization and much else. there's tons to think about in this regard, but i think power skews with our perceptions.