Friday, April 5, 2013

Borago etc.

Borage, Borago officinalis

Invisible Festival

anticipating fennel
next to a second planting of St. John’s Wort
chamomile arrowy & yarrow
borage interpolating blue — oregano
so prolific its prunings cresting
the gray wheelbarrow — creeping
bunkers of eradicated mint
sage & thyme afternoon desert winds
sand-blasting — isolating

artichoke from prickly pear
hearting rhubarb

Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari [pic courtesy of The Funambulist]

That day, the Wolf-Man rose from the couch particularly tired. He knew that Freud had a genius for brushing up against the truth and passing it by, then filling the void with associations. He knew that Freud knew nothing about wolves, or anuses for that matter. The only thing Freud understood was what a dog is, and a dog’s tail. It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough. The Wolf-Man knew that Freud would soon declare him cured, but that it was not at all the case and his treatment would continue for all eternity under Brunswick, Lacan, Leclaire. Finally, he knew that he was in the process of acquiring a veritable proper name, the Wolf-Man, a name more properly his than his own, since it attained the highest degree of singularity in the instantaneous apprehension of a generic multiplicity: wolves. He knew that this new and true proper name would be disfigured and misspelled, retranscribed as a patronymic. . . .

What does it mean to love somebody? It is always to seize that person in a mass, extract him or her from a group, however small, in which he or she participates, whether it be through the family only or through something else; then to find that person’s own packs, the multiplicities he or she encloses within himself or herself which may be of an entirely different nature. To join them to mine, to make them penetrate mine, and for me to penetrate the other person’s. Heavenly nuptials, multiplicities of multiplicities. . . .

The proper name [nom propre] does not designate an individual: it is on the contrary when the individual opens up to the multiplicities pervading him or her, at the outcome of the most severe operation of depersonalization, that he or she acquires his or her true proper name. The proper name is the instantaneous apprehension of a multiplicity. The proper name is the subject of a pure infinitive comprehended as such in a field of intensity. . . .

psychoanalysis lacks a truly zoological vision

Iberian Wolf, Canis lupus signatus [pic by Juan José González Vega]

I went to hear Brynn Saito read last night. You should, too, & read her work, e.g., here.

1 comment:

  1. ha, that isn't all psychoanalysis lacks.

    festival is gorgeous.