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<eyebeam><blast> Ce qui est reste d'un "texte"... apres..

         "There is Nothing to Paint, and nothing to paint with..."
 speaking of the Dutch painter whose name escapes me.
On Sun, 29 Feb 1998, m@ wrote:*
> There is no longer any
> p-l-a-i-n E-n-g-l-i-s-h.
>         //m@
This comment prompted joy[s]. Therefore. I thank you and
offer: - [remerciements] with many tongued word retours. Word built bits
whichthat patter speak the many varitied Englishs of eloquence, viscera,
plain song, lyric love and metaphor machine drive desire .
         several others
 "quotes" e
                 *t texte to supplement and augment this statement.
         The first is a line from the American poet, Wallace Stevens.
         " French and English constitute a single language."
         Next is Tristan Tzara:from
         ****L'art s'endort pour la naissance due monde nouveau
         "ART" - mot perroquet- remplace par DADA,
         PLESIAUSAURE, ou mouchoir
         and more of more immediate relevance to the question of
         et La Poesie;
         Le talent QU'ON PEUT APPRENDRE fait du
         poete un droguiste AUDJOURD'HUI ****
         tHE pOet is a druggist sampling various word forms in diverse
idiolects and patois; she tastes the words made fleshy flesh; the verbs
kiss the sex as they speak twist in the tongue body of the Noun which is
like the anatomy of the hand; the poet, she is a desire. She is Spoken
Thought; she is Spoken for, she is the body Mouth.
         This was not a Quote: Or Rather it is an Invented Quote, a
subtextual allusion sidestepping manner and intellect; She speaks the
quote of her song and her mouth sideways moves the tongue sprach-song of
ebbulience. The milieu of liens and contact.
        "Erotic Antenna" that buzz bee like in the web tissue which
the body extend/intend  in Movement space. Oh Stationary Travellos.
         Now another "quote"
         In an discussion-interview given for the 1977 issue of
Sollers said that since Finnegans Wake "The English language no longer
exists." Is it not true?
         How Many Englishs are there in a city like New
York, in a city called London? The richness and abundance of
English writing is proof enough for that. So many tongues in one
language; English as langua franca, english as the Latin of the 20th
century. English as multiplicity as Deleuze and Guattari discuss this in
Mille Plateaux;
         why because English is constantly deterritorialized by the
hundreds of Languages which flow through it, cutting and trans-versing
  [versing it, un-versing it, per-versing it] as the desire machines
and slice, releasing incredible schizo-phrenic charges of language.
  English no longer exists. As stable uniform and cannot ever really ve
  been said to exist. English can do this because English is not ENglish
         French-English, Quebec Franglais, Irish English, and Yiddish
English and
 Indian English and Chinese English, and Woman english and Animal
 and Lover English and City English and Country English and Sex English
 Cyber English and Body English.
          And all this is so poor poor poor poor to
 convey to indicate to hint to enrich how rich and diverse and infinite
         all is a tissue of Language.
                 P   O  E  M   A
         And no deconstruction of tongued syllable can lead but to more
          and reconstructed beauty of expression desire body love
 language. it is Notso
          much that there is no plain english as there never
 was but some thought there was;
         Some thought Magic was Dead too but that is
  Not so either; some called themselves philos but that was not so
   and Or to say there is More as the Metamorphosis of Body Language
                 place and placing in the desire-bodies.
         Another quote: "I will give them back their English language
 I am done" James Joyce [Shem the penman]:
         writing to a friend about
 Finnegans Wake.
         We are all polyglots even if we "only" speak one language.
 Speaking one language is already an immense achievement. Think of the
 millions who cannot speak. I speak their muteness in the explosions of
 everyday violence.
         .... Quotes from Edmond Jabes....
         "Silence, where the word abdicates...."
         "will you accuse me of being a writer of death?...."
         "To be alive at the bosom of death. To stand where air  and
 are the same horizontal rhythm, said Reb Akri."
         "We lack creation. We lack resistance to the present. The
creation of concepts in itself calls for a future form, for a new earth
and people that do not yet exist. Europeanization does not constitute a
becoming but merely the history of capitalism, which prevents the
becoming of subjected peoples. Art and philosophy converge at this
point: the constitution of an earth and a people are lacking as the
correlate of creation.
         It is not populist writers but the most Aristocratic who lay
claim to this future. The people and the earth will not be found in our
 democracies. Democracies are majorities, but a Becoming is by its
nature that which always eludes the majority. The position of many
writers with regards to democracy is ambiguous and complex...."
(Deleuze and Guattari, What is Philosophy, p 108. trans. Hugh Tomlinson
and Graham Burcell, 1994)
         Of course we can all think of many poets and writers as
         of this complex relation. Interestingly enough in the
inter-view mentioned
 above wherein Sollers speaks of James Joyce he also calls him the Only
         Non ((( Shall we Not Call Him Saint Joyce Writer & Martyr as
 Sartre said of Jean Genet,  Saint Genet Actor and Martyr)))
 -fascist Writer of the 20th century. At least compared to his
 contemporaries Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot and Wyndham Lewis. If I may
         suggest what Sollers was
 referring to is that there cannot be found, either in the life of Joyce
 in his writings, any trace of fascism. Joyce multiplies the languages
 sexes and this eliminates any violence and fascisms.     Joyce was her
         wife, as  Nora was her husband.
         "Tell me tale of shem or shaun. Who
 were Shem and Shaun the living sons and daughters of." (Finnegans Wake)
         No easy feat. Feat and defeat the molar dominators within/out.
                 Or Nietzsche's Daughter, for instance. At the pass at
 Turin, or Basle.
         Quote: "Everyone wants to be a fascist" F. Guattari said that
 an  essay and that wrote about how this desire is an example of how
 desires its own repression. How terrible we are so bounden by the
 desire to be the "same" to merge identity into an mass-molar fascism of
         Now cannnot language act as the tensor (Lyotard) to minoritize
 and thereby slew the flows that break the molar constructions which
 us? YEs, yes, I said Yes, Yes, I will I will, Yes. Yes. Say Yes, Oh
 say yes. She said, Yes.
         Make English flow like your fingers
         Beckett said he gave up writing in English because for him, it
 too easy. Too fluid.
         "The artist ....to fail, to dare to fail as no other has. To
 venture into that
 domain of non-being that has been neglected by all Western artists...."
         S. Beckett, 1958 in Three Dialogues.
         Ah! Les beaux jours! Ah give me the old questions. The old
 questions. S. B. encore. Une autre fois. Le language which we speak is
 one we speak agains the speaking which we are.  Speak that I may touch
         Last but last Quote, yet one more: " Borderline, frontier which
 is transformed
                 threshhold; threshold which is transformed into
         forces. Po[e]tential life realized.
         And a limit case of that paradox: resitance which is also
  opening;closure which is also gift; failure which is measure of
         insurmountable distance which is Encounter." (p.77 Bracha
 Lichtenberg Ettinger * Matrix Halal[a]-Lapsus - notes on painting 
 of Modern Art Oxford 1993)
         Eurydice speaks from the border space, wander the notes of her
 pages as you seek silence. There goes the word which she seeks...
         Ages later palimpsests of what is written appears in the dusted
 word of language. In her painting, dusted jar of memory amnesiac.
         "There is nothing to paint, nothing to paint with." Beckett as
         English is not the only language I am speaking even when I am
 speaking it. It speaks me and what speaks me is the mullioned terraced
 tongues of the tome of its words. "We" do not speak, as much as we are
 spoken. There is never more than that, and that is everything.
         Orpheus wore the day down like a sun. She, Orpheus, met
 in the one thousand spaces of words between the threshold which crosses
 its walking.
         je pense a la chaleur que tisse la parole
         autour de son noyau le reve qu'on appelle nous
         ... au-dessus de la nocturne pais odeur forte nocturne paix
         et tant d'autres et tant d'autres
         Clifford Duffy et tant d'autres

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