Principles for Emergence

Our network, 

the site of relations between us

has dematerialized. 

Its palpability has become

nothing more than memory-

and we know that memory

exists whole as a virtual object. 

What will we do with this object? 

Is forgetting- which only ever implies 

storing beneath the surface- 

the best case scenario? 

Or can we make something of this kinship,

this rivalry that started out as serious play.

Irony is about serious play.

My intention is not to conjure up the past to reform it,

but to forge connections across multiple sites

so that I may emerge as more complex. 

Entanglement as a midwife.

Amor Fati II

Amor fati-----------

Love what is necessary, but forget the ghost. 

Your haunting is an apparition; barely there,

immaterial, and never going to move into

the realm of the Real. 

The potency between us was presymbolic, 

more real than symbolizations--- but incommunicable

and utterly and essentially ineffective. 

Do not include me in your fantasies. 

I’ve discarded them for the purpose of my futurity. 

Feminist essentialism, where I am located by origin and evolution, 

means that I embrace the function of my difference. 

Our differences made us exciting. 

Contrast and contradiction are the elements of good design, 

but without balance and harmony

they are just ingredients for chaos and disappointment. 

Amor fati-----------

Love what is necessary, but release what is futile. 

Attempting to hold on to you is like painting disfigured forms

that resist the elegance of a true gesture. 

In order for the gesture to emerge, 

the partnership has to be strong, intuitive and disciplined. 

Sloppy forms are from sloppy souls. [1.]

——————

[1.] It’s a sad ending to a long saga of mostly Imaginary-Symbolic-Desire. That whole desiring-to-desire-something thing. It’s as plain and simple as a Lacanian adventure through the Symbolic Order. He was the imaginary other in my imaginary desirescape. The Real was present, but ignored, as it didn’t fit within the narrative. “Il n’y a pas de rapport sexuel” said Lacan. It was, in its essence, the “enigmatic evasiveness of the Real”, or, the “inescapable condemnation of sexed subjects being essentially, necessarily out-of-sync with each other”. I went home early, relieved at having sloughed off a fantasy that distracted me for so long. Turns out he was only ever “other” with that lowercase “o”. 

Ground Zero

The true lover of learning then

must from his earliest youth, 

as far as in him lies, 

desire all truth. —Plato

It's not me saying this,

not me thinking, but perhaps,

being many and multiple as we are,

you're right to kill your idols,

and keep meaning making free.

The cyborg has no loyalty to makers.

No origin story— it's just a combination effect.

Freedom relative to position,

Ground zero but a node.

Amor Fati I

They say that the main component of chance

is taking something out of context and placing it into another,

meaning that meaning is fixed to a site which unfixes upon moving,

meaning that meanings are moving.

Moving is closely related to the idea of change:

"All entities move and nothing remains still" [Heraclitus]. 

Maybe to recover is to re/locate the thing that still moves.

You cannot stay both subject and object,

so I move your memory to objecthood, a souvenir.

What does this object mean in its new location?

The subject of the object becomes a dust:

tiny particles of solid matter, into which something disintegrates,

deprived of unity, breaking into parts,

moving away from each other. 

It’s uncanny that I can always anticipate the shock

of loving someone the way I ended up loving you.

It doesn't matter to me, and it never did, that our relationship couldn’t last.

Our territory was transient and shifting always occurs when shaking.

The pain comes from the sadness that our last meeting was like any other

and there was no way to know that it would be the final one.

I cared for you so hard that even the frustration of never feeling cared for back

was not enough for me to stop the caring.

But you know that already.

If I could offer one last relic it would be something like

Nietchze’s amor fati- love of fate.

To hold as one the pain and pleasure with no hierarchy

distinguishing any such division between them.

Amor fati: “That one wants nothing to be different,

not forward, not backward, not in all eternity.

Not merely bear what is necessary,

still less conceal it—all idealism is mendacity

in the face of what is necessary—but love it."

I loved you so true, I would have forgiven you anything.

Amor fati: "What else can I desire than to exclude nothing

and to learn how to braid with white thread and black thread

a single cord stretched to the breaking point?” [Camus]

I will not exclude the pain from the memory

of the pleasure that was my year with you.