Friday, November 12, 2004

re/de

Deleuze's account of philosophy is of thinking
as a relation to territory. To the earth.
That the practice of philosophy occurs only when thought
inhabits a specific timeandplace. Just as the earth
becomes all territories in perpetual development,
continually defining and redefining new relations to
materials and forces, so philosophy is a continual
process of deterritorialization and reterritorialization,
of redefining relations and of re establishing borders.
Of generating difference.
Philosophy as a source of becoming, an open system,
a plurality of elements in constant interaction (but not
governed by an absolute order of Being-transcending-nature).

A geophilosophy.

An attempt to create a naturalistic and ecological way of
thinking that eliminates the dualism of humanity (as subject)
and nature (as object).

One breath.

Like a silent bus ride home so many years ago, a blue moon,
a midnight sky, gravel under tires, enveloping darkness,
an unexpected touch, a stranger's hand, a fingertip to palm,
warm skin sliding under, the steady grip of holding on and
nothing more than that.

The constantly transforming nature of a rhizome describes
the processes of territorialization: qualititative
changes of complex assemblages based on proliferating
relations between heterogeneous terms. And how every
assemblage is characterized by the process(es) of
constituting a territory that holds together distinct or
heterogeneous elements. Has a simultaneous
deterritorialization, which is the transformation of an
assemblage's previous relational quality and
reterritorialization, which is the passage from one kind
of territorial assemblage to another. That these movements
continually pass into one another.

Collective sigh.

How there are days when words spill across the eyes.
And others, when one seeks stillness in the voice of
someone else, in being read to.

There is a geography in people, made up of lines of flight.
Becomings belong to geography too, since they are orientations
or directions. They offer entries and exits. Creative functions
that proceed by intersections, crossings, points of encounter
that meet in the middle. Tip to tip. The movements of
deterritorialization and the processes of reterritorialization
always appear simultaneously in assemblages. For example,
humans became a deterritorialized animal when front feet
became hands (from locomotor to prehensile use) and the hand
became a deterritorialized paw, a deterritorialized locomotion,
yet it reterritorialized itself to swing from tree to tree.
Deterritorializations always have complementary
reterritorializations just like a nomad who is
deterritorialized, but reterritorializes as someone who does
not move, who remains attached to a home that s/he must flee.
These symbiotic becomings interlink the deterritorialiation
of one term to the reterritorialization of the other,
into forming relays of intensities.

The touch of a piano key,
single note lingering through a dark night,
clink of ice against a glass.

On a plane of immanence, there is the indefinite movement
of thought. Thought without proper limits. Absolute
horizon of events (concepts). Consistent and unified
horizon on which concepts are created and held together
in an unlimited milieu. A planemonon. Non-fragmented yet
open Whole which harbors concepts. Mobile environment
through which the internal components of concepts
incessantly travel in and inhabit. Necessary philosophical
condition, pre-philosophical plane that philosophy
acknowledges to create concepts on. The very image of
thought which is not itself a concept but the presupposition
of a concept. The power of thought as being continuous with
the tide of immanent experience.

Like cycling twenty miles through hard rain just to feel alive.
And how the air vibrates past eighty year old eyes.

Deleuze’s radical empiricism presents only events: possible
worlds as concepts and people as their expression. Where the
construction of concepts-events is a process of inventing new
modes of existence. Possibilities of life on a plane of
immanence. Believing it is only from the continuously limitless
plane of immanence along the infinite movement of thought that
new concepts and new modes of existence can be created which
won’t be betrayed by a transcendent plane. It is impossible for
any one plane of immanence to encompass that which is constantly
becoming. Each plane has its own way of constructing immanence,
for philosophers it is a field of variation, filled with
different concepts which make up a specific power of thought
and being to indicate what it means to think differently.

The sound of words in one's head
and how each letter has a particular colour.
Hearing colours.


Measuring a plane of immanence
by what one embraces,
by what one creates,
by who one includes
and
what
if
there
is
no
separation
between
mind
and
body
but
just
one
collective
shudder
yoursintomine
and
mineintoyours
like
alizarin crimson
dragged
across
the
page.

Dry brush line.

"I have always believed in numbers and the
equations and logics that lead to reason. But after a
lifetime of such pursuits, what truly is logic? What
is reason? My quest has taken me through the physical,
the metaphysical and the delusional and back and I have
made the most important discovery of my career, the
most important discovery of my life. It is only in the
mysterious equations of love that any logical reasons
can be found." (John Forbes Nash, mathematician)


27 Comments:

Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

this [Collective sigh], or simply [sigh] never ceases to have an effect on me as I read it; it's interesting, in that I visualize it - and unconsciously do it, as well

this must be a memory, but I can picture and hear it clearly

[The touch of a piano key,
single note lingering through a dark night,
clink of ice against a glass.]

and this I can appreciate - and like the image

[Like cycling twenty miles through hard rain just to feel alive.]

but this, I love:

[one
collective
shudder
yoursintomine
and
mineintoyours
like
Alizarin crimson
dragged
across
the
page.]

from the [mineintoyours] and [alizarin], worlds colliding and becoming, in a [collective shudder]. though so much more, it is incredible sensual.

3:04 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

thank you
.
.
.

[this must be a memory, but I can picture and hear it clearly]

.
.
.
a memory of yours?

4:42 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

[touch of a piano key]

a memory of yours ...

9:15 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

I don't really play but its what I do when I can't sleep...a memory from a few nights ago I suppose

9:43 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

a dream, or making it through the night?

10:13 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

not a dream...just me and my piano and the night playing endlessly on

10:17 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

the source, the reference ...

10:46 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

forgive me but I don't understand and want to...unless you mean something akin to middle C being like my night star [the source, the reference] ... it is a soothing sound in the still of the night, hearing the strings resonate

...is that what you mean?

10:56 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

actually, my meaning was far more literal, meaning only that the cords in the middle of the night were the reference, the source of what you'd written

11:42 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

of course, yes

..and I admire anyone who can actually play,
but especially in the middle of the night

11:49 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

yourself, for example ... among others

11:59 p.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

and if only I could see the eyes of that particular comment

12:08 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

they'd be staring right back at you

12:39 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

and might even surprise you in how softly they did, as the statement was intended

12:46 a.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

like a beam of light swim through the eyes of a face

12:53 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

yes, for example ...

12:57 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

and a midnight swim, at that

1:03 a.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

how soft the night, the swim, the sleep of dreams

1:14 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

and yet your nights are sleepless, which begs any number of questions

1:20 a.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

in reply

'perhaps this too will make me stronger'
is what I first thought

'but that you noted this, that saying so speaks something of your character'
is, in the end, what I preferred to think

1:41 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

indeed, both are interesting thoughts, while notatall addressing the 'source' of the sleeplessness, the cause of the restlessness, the catalyst for the thoughts

1:57 a.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

yes I know...

and if I answer, does this mean I get to ask a reciprocal question and answer from you sometime?

never having disliked being alone, but actually replenished by it and even needing a cetain amount of it to create or reflect makes finding someone who shares or understands that same particular kind of aloneness, someone who keeps the same kinds of silences, not always easy

plus the geographied season (here),
that darkat5clockgreyNovembertimeofyear,
and the past, the future, and everything in between
...all these things like a concert in my ears

which is fast becoming a poem

2:25 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

yes, I can understand these things; and, though my mind has been elsewhere recently, I did pick up Durrell today and was struck by the follwing, in reference to how someone (melissa) deals with solitude: 'je suis devenu(e) la solitude meme' ... which gave me a moment of pause.

you may ask me anything you want, whenever you choose; I'm an open book.

and I can understand contemplating [the past, the future and everything in between], if only because my dreams recently have been haunted with the strangest people and place and things, out of the ordinary to say the least, and yet so very real and relevant and detailed, that I almost put pen to paper, to see if the locales cited were real, and such addresses existed etc

[becoming a poem]

I'm reminded of something I heard this evening, that some who stutter can sing perfectly, but stutter while speaking ... this seems somehow relevant

2:42 a.m.  
Blogger name of the rose said...

...since I continue to love Durell's writing, I will return to his texts to seek out your reference to 'melissa's' thought

how I would love to hear more about your dreams...you dreamt addresses?...you dreamt that amount of detail?

how making (one's own) language stutter is a very deleuzian notion... [that some who stutter can sing perfectly, but stutter while speaking] is an interesting thought

how sometimes we become the poem

and now, to sleep

3:18 a.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

perhaps I'll share some of these dreams, when it strikes me, as 'you' and have been among them, from time to time

3:22 a.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

1:36 p.m.  
Blogger in vino veritas [in wine, there is truth] said...

and of the [angel teaching lessons] and so much more ...? like a latenight swim, I was looking forward to jumping into it again ...

4:45 a.m.  

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