Wrote this today in Chris Kraus‘s course at EGS. I was pleased with it but Chris felt that the use of adjectives might be helpful. I’m conflicted, as I feel they bring a questionable overcoding of the descriptive. Seems I may need to stick to theory… still, this was raw and written in ten minutes with no prep time. Given this material deficiency that limits, I’ve created a new category for the classification of such !writing.
Visp by bus at 11:05
Round trip ticket. Departure in fifteen minutes. In Strict Confidence in my headphones today… I guess Critchley’s presentation didn’t completely scare away the persistent Melancholic. Mahler perhaps on the trip back.
There’s the older fellow from last night’s lecture.. .Hermacher? Hamacher? “Gentle Lacanian Derridian Levinasian” signifies louder than proper names. A smile as I walk in. Pleasentries about the speech last night. Damn I have got to get out of the patheticisms of superficialities and gated minds.
A meaningful conversation. Humility is present with this man. Strange how that persists with those touched by Derrida. A place I hope to continue to uncover and explore.
A conversation on where I’m from… does he mean geographically, historically, experientially? Damn these categories. They always screw with those of us who find our home in the transition, never comfortable with the tyranny of a persistent locale. Hermes grows restless when fixed in place and time.
An experiment in humility and intentionality might be best. This gentle being deserves sincerity, so I’m afraid the problematic of the strange worlds of capital and Mahler will come out. It’s always too overbearing for casual conversation explaining this foreignness in non-musical Language.
I share my connection to theory from Mahler, Bruckner… and explain how Adorno has helped me find the narrow pathway between these islands. Oh my god. He became a theorist because of an inspiration from Adorno when he was in high school?!! Who is this Lacanian Derridian? A story about Adorno’s passing… as the bus continues down the mountains to where Adorno passed, as we pass forward. Time truly is a fraud. A path changed with that death in the valley before us, to Berlin and then to Derrida in Paris, instead of Frankfurt. Strange, this accidential consequentiality is and the complexity of the encounter.
Conversation weaves in and out in the instability of the experience, of a delocalized time. Serres would be pleased with this discussion. Strange Swiss names of towns that belong in Norway. More delocalization. Discussion of the dogs of war, and strong resonance and interest in the teaching of Derrida and Levinas not only to my debaters, but to our debate circuit, the other teams, the judges, and coaches. This gentle being seems quite pleased with the journey we’re taking..
Time encroaches. 12 minutes to his train as we arrive in Visp. Gracious parting greetings… not a goodbye but a welcoming. Chronos fails in its attempt at closure. A warm handshake, a parting and an opening.