The fire you rubbed left its brand on the most vulnerable, most vicious and tender point of my body. Now I have to pay for your rasping the red rash too strongly, too soon, as charred wood has to pay for burning. When I remain without your caresses, I lose all control of my nerves, nothing exists any more than the ecstasy of friction, the abiding effect of your sting, of your delicious poison.

Ada or Ardor – Vladimir Nabokov

system – deconstruction

If by ‘system’ is meant—and this is the minimal sense of the word—a sort of consequence, coherence and insistence—a certain gathering together—there is an injunction to the system that I have never renounced, and never wished to. This can be seen in the recurrence of motifs and references from one text to another in my work, despite the differing occasions and pretexts—a recurrence that, having reached a certain age, I find rather striking. What I have managed to write in the course of these past thirty years has been guided by a certain insistence that others may well find downright monotonous. ‘System,’ however, in a philosophical sense that is more rigorous and perhaps more modern, can also be taken to mean a totalization in the configuration, a continuity of all statements, a form of coherence (not coherence itself), involving the syllogicity of logic, a certain syn which is no longer simply that of gathering in general, but rather of the assemblage of ontological propositions. In that case deconstruction, without being anti-systematic, is on the contrary, and nevertheless, not only a search for, but itself a consequence of, the fact that the system is impossible; it often consists, regularly or recurrently, in making appear—in each alleged system, in each self-interpretation of and by a system—a force of dislocation, a limit in the totalization, a limit in the movement of syllogistic synthesis. Deconstruction is not a method for discovering that which resists the system; it consists, rather, in remarking, in the reading and interpretation of texts, that what has made it possible for philosophers to effect a system is nothing other than a certain dysfunction or ‘disadjustment,’ a certain incapacity to close the system. Wherever I have followed this investigative approach, it has been a question of showing that the system does not work, and that this dysfunction not only interrupts the system but itself accounts for the desire for system, which draws its élan from this very disadjoinment, or disjunction. On each occasion, the disjunction has a privileged site in that which one calls a philosophical corpus. Basically, deconstruction as I see it is an attempt to train the beam of analysis onto this disjointing link.

Jacques Derrida, “I Have A Taste For The Secret”

Breton on Beauty

Beauty is like a train that ceaselessly roars out of the Gare de Lyon and which I know will never leave, which has not left. It consists of jolts and shocks, many of which do not have much importance, but which we know are destined to produce one Shock, which does. Which has all the importance I do not want to arrogate to myself. In every domain the mind appropriates certain rights which it does not possess. Beauty, neither static nor dynamic. The human heart, beautiful as a seismograph… Royalty of silence… (…).
Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.

André Breton, extract from “Nadja”.

Hôtel, by Guillaume Apollinaire

Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage,
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre.
Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages
J’allume au feu du jour ma cigarette.
Je ne veux pas travailler — je veux fumer.

Guillaume Apollinaire, from Le Guetteur mélancolique, previously unpublished works, 1952 [source].

Pink Martini – Sympathique