Friday, November 10, 2006

Intimacy

The thinker I admire the most is I, yet exactly why I do not know. Maybe, it is the incestuous intimacy.

posted by Lynn @ 3:41 PM   3 comments

3 Comments:

At 7:24 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lynn, you write,

The thinker I admire the most is I, yet exactly why I do not know. Maybe, it is the incestuous intimacy.

This is ripe for deconstruction. Can one be the signifier of oneself? First you are One and The Other at the same time. Second, you engage in distance: Admiration. Third, you cast doubt and humility (skepticism?) on the whole project. Fourth, you include Freudian (Lacanian) terminology into the "frame" and end with a question-mark.

Derrida would probably zoom in on the "I" concept. So we are talking individuation. As an effect - or - just as a vowel, maybe a sound.

And then of course the "intimacy" bit - the introduction of the flesh. The longing, the loneliness, the desire.

The desire for causality "why I do not know". The search for identity.

The aphorism of self.

I better stop now. Referring to your previous post: I - or should it be - "I" have had too much red wine, it's late (on this side of the Atlantic) and I'm off to bed.

All the best,

Orla

 
At 12:06 PM, Blogger beatroot said...

Intimacy?

"I regret to say that we of the FBI are powerless to act in
cases of oral-genital intimacy, unless it has in some way
obstructed interstate commerce."

J. Edgar Hoover

 
At 5:17 PM, Blogger Lynn said...

Orla –

Thanks for the deconstruction. The I/Other opposition is interesting, for I almost unconsciously consider myself composed as both. The other seems like another body I can inspect as I please. Yet I know I am one body. The other that I conjure into existence, however, serves as useful fiction since I do need to talk about myself, and that fictional other is who I refer to.

What I was thinking about is this. I cannot admire my own thinking or despise it. If I really did admire something, it would be what I say or write. I cannot imagine writing something where I would not see a trace of myself in it, even if it were a how-to manual of some sort. I cannot eradicate my trace from my writing. The best I can do hope for is that I will like the self I find in my writing when I later read it.

 

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