"We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Antichrist

A Misosophical Confession

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“Thought is primarily trespass and violence, the enemy, and nothing presupposes philosophy: everything begins with misosophy.”

“As far as ‘thought’ is concerned, works are falsifications, since they eliminate the provisional and the non-repeatable, the instantaneous and the mingling of purity and impurity, disorder and order.”

“I distrust all systematisers, and avoid them. The will to a system shows a lack of honesty”

 

What has become of lovers of knowledge today? What is the fate of those once revered and proud seekers of truth, those honest and upstanding journeymen of essences and universality? The shadows of these lovers of knowledge and wisdom appear to flit across the mirrors in which we seek ourselves, never leaving more than a fleeting impression, a muffled articulation that no sooner has found expression than it once more disintegrates amidst the determined babble of self-assured objection. And these shadows whisper to us of their own demise, of their submission to the systematisation of knowledge as utmost morality that rests never far from the surface of the façade which emerges of the demand and insistence for a unitary reality. If there is a philosopher of the future, their voice is meek amidst the uproar of accusation and blame; their gaze powerless when confronted with the piercing eyes of certainty; their will ensnared by the blockages and channels of a continually reinforced spiral of systematisation that sets before it the task of absolute universalisation.

What then, has become of the lovers of knowledge today? Their love has been hollowed, turned upon itself, to the point at which conservation and enslavement converge, where reaction emerges from the fear of change, from the weak desire for comfort, the desire for the known and certain to win out over the yet to be found.  Here, we find a sorrowful side to repetition’s tragedy, a side that submits us to the entrapment of convention, which snares us in habit, which installs in us that wistful nostalgia which places history in the service of smug self-indulgence and gratification. We have surrendered the possibilities of the future and present to the kitsch and vulgar memorials of the past, to farcical parodies of thought that now stand before us with the authority of knowledge. We have abandoned the present and future, to be placed in the service of this history. We have abandoned it to a history comprised of proper nouns, of memorials and monuments which defile and degrade both the living and the dead, which leave us as insignificant shadows, entirely imperceptible at the base of such grandeur. We are nothing more than a footnote to this history. For if it is declared that now history has ended, it is due to this footnote. It is due to the timeliness of this footnote and our subservience to it. History is over. And at the gates to the mausoleum that seeks to hold this history within itself, standing before us as a memorial demanding absolute venerance, the philosophers-become-watchmen stand guard, protecting their professional domain and the authority of the wise. But history is over only to the extent that we have surrendered ourselves to the received knowledge that these watchmen protect. It is only over to the extent that we have taken hatred for love and love for hatred and demanded of both a binary role; only to the extent that tendencies towards systematisation and delimitation have won out over tendencies towards the chaotic and unordered; only to the extent that the comforting and narcotic, the anesthetising and stupefying, has won out over any will to go-beyond.
"The state itself has no unwritten laws more powerful than the mythical foundation that guarantees its connection with religion and its growth out of mythical representations."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy
"Never has so much talk and so little thought been devoted to art."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy
"A great writer is always like a foreigner in the language in which he expresses himself, even if this is his native tongue. At the limit, he draws his strength from a mute and unknown minority that belongs only to him. He is a foreigner in his own language: he does not mix another language with his own language, he carves out a nonpreeexistent foreign language within his own language. He makes the language itself scream, stutter, stammer or murmur."
Gilles Deleuze - He Stuttered
"For ten years I’ve prayed for life; now I can die."
Aeschylus - Agamemnon
"Understanding kills action, action depends on a veil of illusion ­ this is what Hamlet teaches us, not the stock interpretation of Hamlet as a John-a-dreams who, from too much reflection, from an excess of possibilities, so to speak, fails to act. Not reflection, not that! - True understanding, insight into the terrible truth, outweighs every motive for action, for Hamlet and Dionysiac man alike. No consolidation will be of any use from now on, longing passes over the world towards death, beyond the gods themselves; existence, radiantly reflected in the gods or in an immortal ‘Beyond’, is denied. Aware of truth from a single glimpse of it, all man can now see is the horror and absurdity of existence; now he understands the symbolism of Ophelia’s fate, now he understands the wisdom of Silenus, the god of the woods: it repels him.
Here, in this supreme menace to the will, there approaches a redeeming, healing enchantress - art. She alone can turn these thoughts of repulsion at the horror and absurdity of existence into ideas compatible with life: these are the sublime - the taming of horror through art; and comedy - the artistic release from the repellence of the absurd. The satyr chorus of the dithyramb is the salvation of Greek art; the frenzies described above were exhausted in the middle world of these Dionysiac attendants."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy
"… to us the subjective artist is simply the bad artist, and since we demand above all, in every genre and range of art, a triumph over subjectivity, deliverance from the self, the silencing of every personal will and desire; since, in fact, we cannot imagine the smallest genuine art work lacking objectivity and disinterested contemplation."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy
"Thus our whole knowledge of art is at bottom illusory, seeing that as mere knowers we can never be fused with that essential spirit, at the same time creator and spectator, who has prepared the comedy of art for his own edification. Only as the genius in the act of creation merges with the primal architect of the cosmos can he truly know something of the eternal essence of art. For in that condition he resembles the uncanny fairy tale image which is able to see itself by turning its eyes. He is at once subject and object, poet, actor, and audience."
Friedrich Nietzsche - The Birth of Tragedy
"Not only are major economic and technological options at stake, but also people’s attitudes, their relations with the world, particularities of desire. Managers, policemen politicians, bureaucrats, professors, psychoanalysts – all will join forces in vain to stop this revolution, to canalize it, to take it over; in vain will they sophisticate, diversify, miniaturize their weapons to the nth degree: they will never regain control of that massive movement of escape, the multitude of molecular mutations of desire that have now been let loose. The economic, political and moral order of the twentieth century is breaking up everywhere, and the people in power hardly know which way to turn. The enemy is intangible – you hear a twig snap beside you, and you find your son, your wife, even your own desire is betraying your mission as guardian of the established
order."
Felix Guattari
"For our part, it is our task to drag the old world into the full light of day and to give positive shape to the new one. The more time history allows thinking mankind to reflect and suffering mankind to collect its strength the more perfect will be the fruit which the present now bears within its womb."
"If the signs of love and jealousy carry their own alteration, it is for a simple reason: love unceasingly prepares its own disappearance, acts out its dissolution."
Gilles Deleuze - Signs and Truth
lonequixote:

New Bridge, Paris ~ Edouard Cortes
"The beloved appears as a sign, a ‘soul’; the beloved expresses a possible world unknown to us, implying, enveloping, imprisoning a world that must be deciphered, that is, interpreted. What is involved, here, is a plurality of worlds; the pluralism of love does not concern only the multiplicity of loved beings, but the multiplicity of souls or worlds in each of them."
Gilles Deleuze - Proust and Signs
vvhateva:

MIRROR NEURONS
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