Wednesday, June 26, 2013


Woman never speaks the same way. What she emits is flowing, fluctuating. Blurring. And she is not listened to, unless proper meaning (meaning of the proper) is lost. Whence the resistances to that voice that overflows the "subject." Which the "subject" then congeals, freezes, in its categories until it paralyzes the voice in its flow.

"And there you have it, Gentlemen, that is why your daughters are dumb." Even if they chatter, proliferate phythically in works that only signify their aphasia, or the mimetic underside of your desire. And interpreting them where they exhibit only their muteness means subjecting them to a language that exiles them at an ever increasing distance from what perhaps they would have said to you, were already whispering to you. If only your ears were not so formless, so clogged with meaning(s), that they are closed to what does not in some way echo the already heard.

Outside of this volume already circumscribed by the signification articulated in (the father's) discourse nothing is: awoman. Zone of silence.


Re-semblance cannot do without red blood.
Mother-matter-nature must go on forever nourishing speculation.
But this re-source is also rejected as the waste-product of reflection, 
cast outside as what resists it:
as madness.



What remains, then, would be the pleasure of speaking of love.
A pleasure already, and still, enjoyed by the ancient soul.
A pleasure the science of which psychoanalytic theory would elaborate.
For an over-pleasure?
But of what? Of whom?
And between whom and whom?


One way [to "reopen" the figures of philosophical discourse, to make them "render up" and give back what they owe the feminine] is to interrogate the conditions under which systematicity itself is possible: what the coherence of the discursive utterance conceals of the conditions under which it is produced, whatever it may say about these conditions in discourse. For example the "matter" from which the speaking subject draws nourishment in order to produce itself, to reproduce itself; the scenography that makes representation feasible, representation as defined in philosophy, that is, the architectonics of its theatre, its framing in space-time, its geometric organization, its props, its actors, their respective positions, their dialogues, indeed, their tragic relations, without overlooking the mirror, most often hidden, that allows the logos, the subject to reduplicate itself, to reflect itself by itself. All these are interventions on the scene; they ensure its coherence so long as they remain uninterpreted. Thus they have to be reenacted, in each figure of discourse, in order to shake discourse away from its mooring in the value of "presence." For each philosopher, beginning with those whose names define some age in the history of philosophy, we have to point out how the break with material contiguity is made, how the system is put together, how the specular economy works.

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