“so I gave myself to God, there was a pregnant pause before he said okay”

October 23, 2010 § Leave a comment

I’m not sure if I should say that Lacan was right, or Zizek was right, but I know much of Lacan through Zizek so I’ll say Zizek was right but perhaps it only means that Lacan was right – sooner or later the Real breaks through and it’s not pretty. I mean, there is no real way to deal with the Real, so one has no choice but to revert to fantasy.

The internet, instead of helping, can only make things worse. Those ridiculous fragments of connections are, as T.S. Eliot said, fragments that I have shored against my ruins. After which I stab myself with those coffee spoons with which I have measured my life.

Well, no matter. Onward and forward, or some such bullshit.

(And yes, while I’m at it, I have just read Jason’s Werewolves of Montpellier. It is excellent, please read it. Laconic, everyday nihilism has never appeared more adorable. I have also watched Agnes Varda’s Le bonheur, and you should watch it, but only when you’re emotionally-sound and radiating contentment and joy from every pore. I will most likely post my depressing thoughts about it here soon.)

 

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