In a sense, naming is all we have. Momentarily.
In a surrounding dominated by competing semantic ontologies, bent on filtering out every schrapnel of meaning that can be turned into profit from -w wh wha
what’s that we are hearing?
yes the delicate plofs in the distance
getting nearer and louder each instant, why
indeed it is the tiny bursts of our exploding individualities, yes you can see them burst one by one each one caught in their own relentless cycle of growth to burst to collapse to growth to up again.
Look! and they are networking! Even while bursting their lights and energies are immediately sucked in, recuperated by similar growth in their vicinity’s, each burst is the centre of a bursting wave, not Mexican though, what country should it be?
Whenever their long since vacated proliferation of emotional tissue has ripened, an impressivly complex palisade of schrieking anger fattened sufficiently by the continuous drizzling in of the materialisations of our ongoing annulment, the seeding frustrated sex drives turning on themselves producing glistening drips of acidious venom, a gentle plof ends it all or rather puts it back in its initial state, or so we dream it to be essentially, confusing our measuring perception for the measured perceived once again, floating objects in our opera nowhere close to any of the real energies at work here.
Because its essence is not, it becomes. Generates, degenerates, a narration on its own illusionary time-scheme.
Fiction clustering around a now definitly quantified name-value, a co-ordinate on the Grid.
Once you think it as a unity its connectedness undoes that very concept. Yes we can see it now, like children educated by a bearded Jules Verne scientist liberating us from the evil of ignorance: naming might well be the sole countering act left to ward off the Unnamable Inevitable, a going towards that we can never outrun, so yes we will name the Other just to stall our beings blindly into protestation, beat our empty hands full force on the big hole of Ancient Ego, a depiction of the I eye AI turning itself into a mindless doubling of the Real like sons of g*d can turn water into wine so that the party may continue and He perceived as Him that Is.
For Naming It stalls the flowing In towards the bursting Out. Naming is the Interrupt of Meaning. Naming produces Time, processing time, the temporary autonomy called the Future. Our Futurist Culture, le Baraque Friture of imagined heigth*, a place to let the kids out into Nature, a preservation of the Old Order of the Wild, the Bold and the Beautiful.
Let me name you so that i might be.
For a while. I will be your Friend.
My Face is in your Book.
My mind is split into multiple answers to multiple questions.
I have become a part of your cycle.
I tred with you, my footsteps are traced along yours.
We are. We are Saved.
For every new name requires a new search cycle, initiates a climbing into the search results taking time to complete. Machinery on the frontier of light, a movement aptly named the Movement of Endless Naming, MEN at wurk.
Hm, yes, let’s see, i guess this could be turned into a cathedral2Levinas connection driver of sorts. Here’s a data sheet ripped from Pascal Quignard’s essay on Délie ( La parole de Délie. Mercure de France 1974):
Une nomination qui s’adjure déchirée. Inscription de son propre
éclatement sur le fond éperdu d’une essentielle pseudonymie. Une “nomination”:
nommer quelqu’un. Tout d’abord le distinguer d’un mot. Le mettre en puissance
sous l’espèce des voix. Le bâtir d’air, de lettres, bref d’absence. Pour pouvoir
le reconnaître d’une absence telle que sa présence puisse se tourner en elle, se
retourner comme telle et ne serait-il pas, précisement, présent. Que le dos
tourné, cette trace d’air ou de lettres ou d’absence – et du nom de ce nom –
puisse par ce cri précis pouvoir ce ” pouvoir le faire retourner”. De là – celui
qu’on aime – le nommer équivalent à plus que le seulement qualifier. Mais le
constitue objet d’amour. Qu’il soit le toi d’amour. Y réédifier d’absence ce
visage-là. Realiser l ‘unicité de l’autre, non seulement sa difference
spécifique mais jusqu’à sa seule semelfactivité.
Afin d’y faire appel.
Afin qu’il y ait amour.
Afin qu’il y ait amour unique de l’unicité de l’autre seul,
et celui-là, aimé..
* the highest point in Belgium, it’s spelled Fraiture, in fact, but it seemed appropiate to name it differently. It’s in the Hoge Venen , a valuable nature reserve–