Guenon BTFO'd by Lacan

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Guenon BTFO'd by Lacan Anonymous Thu Jan 2 21:36:58 2020 No.14463904 [Reply] [Original]

> And in a word, spending my last weekend in a series of rebounds, trying to see the meaning of some words of Muslim mystical technique I opened some things that I worked on at one time, like everybody else. Who has not looked a little at these indigestible and deadening books on Hinduism, on philosophy, about some ascesis or other, which are presented to us in a dust-laden and in general misunderstood terminology, I would say all the better understood when the transcriber is more stupid, this is why the English works are the best; above all I would ask you not to read the German works, they are so intelligent that it is immediately transformed into Schopenhauer. And then, there is René Guénon, of whom I speak because he is a curious geometrical place. I see from the number of smiles, the proportion of sinners! ... I swear that at any moment, at the beginning of this century of which I am a part - I do not know if it is still going on, but I see that this name is not unknown, so it must still be going on - the whole of French diplomacy found in René Guénon, this imbecile, its maître à penser. You see the result! It is impossible to open one of his works without really finding nothing to do with it because what he says the whole time, is that he ought to shut up.... This has a probably unextinguishable charm; because the result is that thanks to this all sorts of people who probably did not have a lot to do - as Briand said: "You know that we have no foreign policy, because a diplomat must be in an atmosphere that is a little unbreathable....!" - well, this has helped them to remain in their little carapace.

> It has to be said that shortly after the time when, thank heavens, I met Joyce, I was to come across a certain Rene Guenon, who was worth no more than the worst of initiation. Hi han a pas, to be written like the hee-haw of the jackass to which Joyce alludes as the central point of the four terms North, South, East and West, as the intersection of the cross - borne by a jackass, goodness knows Joyce makes enough of this in Finnegans Wake.

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/lit/ - Literature