[dis]continuity
On the most fundamental level there are transitions from continuous to discontinuous or from discontinuous to continuous. We are discontinuous beings, individuals who perish in isolation in the midst of an incomprehensible adventure, but we yearn for our lost continuity. We find the state of affairs that binds us to our random and ephemeral individuality hard to bear. Along with our tormenting desire that this evanescent thing should last, there stands our obsession with primal continuity linking us with everything that is.
(...)
We cannot imagine the transition from one state to another one basically unlike it without picturing the violence done to the being called into existence through discontinuity. Not only do we find in the uneasy transitions of organisms engaged in reproduction the same basic violence which in physical erotism leaves us gasping, but we also catch the inner meaning of that violence. What does physical erotism signify if not a violation of the very bieng of its practitioners?
-a violation bordering on death, bordering on murder?
The whole business of eroticism is to strike to the inmost core of the living being, so that the heart stands still. The transition from the normal state to that of erotic desire presupposes a partial dissolution of the person as he exists in the realm of discontinuity.
Georges Bataille, Introduction to Erotism: Death and Sensuality, 1957
"I'm never having children," she said.
"Giving birth is child abuse, I never asked to be born, I didn't want this," she said.
I cannot say that nothing is ever born into existence as if its desire to exist were finally materialized, it very well could have been
What bothers me is the dependence, specifically in humans, that we've developed on everything ad each other. It's the convergence of energy and, from the more homocentric point of view, conflict.
But then again, the way things are couldn't possibly be another way, because the paths are all made into time to lead to the present.
In our heads anyway.
Sometimes life seems to me like such nonsense, it makes me want to abandon everything, GAWD, I feel tempted,
but usually in times of extreme joy,
jolts of electricity like those I get from listening to an amazing song,
the reverberance of a beautiful word, the glimmering of a star,
and I wonder,
I wonder what keeps me from ripping my eyes out... instead I just either yell into an empty room, turn up the volume, yell the lyrics while jumping, or spin around 'till I fall.
Positive energy.
Because I do remember some years back when I had bad electricity in me where I used to cut, then burn my skin with hot metal because only pain would soothe me.
I don't consider myself to be an unbalanced organism, my usually lethargic form and manner triggered and suddenly bursting with sparks that make me want to die.
I think of my friend's words, and I think of myself and my primitive pubescent theories, that Death was freedom and our return to the stars, only to be convinced that it still is. Considering precisely that, there blossoms one pertinent reason:
M. C., Alejandra R., scribbles on a used envelope from the UPR addressed to me, early July, 2005. Interrupted, never finished, thought lost forever. I will never remember that reason, 'till I make this up again.
(...)
We cannot imagine the transition from one state to another one basically unlike it without picturing the violence done to the being called into existence through discontinuity. Not only do we find in the uneasy transitions of organisms engaged in reproduction the same basic violence which in physical erotism leaves us gasping, but we also catch the inner meaning of that violence. What does physical erotism signify if not a violation of the very bieng of its practitioners?
-a violation bordering on death, bordering on murder?
The whole business of eroticism is to strike to the inmost core of the living being, so that the heart stands still. The transition from the normal state to that of erotic desire presupposes a partial dissolution of the person as he exists in the realm of discontinuity.
Georges Bataille, Introduction to Erotism: Death and Sensuality, 1957
"I'm never having children," she said.
"Giving birth is child abuse, I never asked to be born, I didn't want this," she said.
I cannot say that nothing is ever born into existence as if its desire to exist were finally materialized, it very well could have been
What bothers me is the dependence, specifically in humans, that we've developed on everything ad each other. It's the convergence of energy and, from the more homocentric point of view, conflict.
But then again, the way things are couldn't possibly be another way, because the paths are all made into time to lead to the present.
In our heads anyway.
Sometimes life seems to me like such nonsense, it makes me want to abandon everything, GAWD, I feel tempted,
but usually in times of extreme joy,
jolts of electricity like those I get from listening to an amazing song,
the reverberance of a beautiful word, the glimmering of a star,
and I wonder,
I wonder what keeps me from ripping my eyes out... instead I just either yell into an empty room, turn up the volume, yell the lyrics while jumping, or spin around 'till I fall.
Positive energy.
Because I do remember some years back when I had bad electricity in me where I used to cut, then burn my skin with hot metal because only pain would soothe me.
I don't consider myself to be an unbalanced organism, my usually lethargic form and manner triggered and suddenly bursting with sparks that make me want to die.
I think of my friend's words, and I think of myself and my primitive pubescent theories, that Death was freedom and our return to the stars, only to be convinced that it still is. Considering precisely that, there blossoms one pertinent reason:
M. C., Alejandra R., scribbles on a used envelope from the UPR addressed to me, early July, 2005. Interrupted, never finished, thought lost forever. I will never remember that reason, 'till I make this up again.