The outdoors of language

If Nietzsche confronts individuality with collectivity, the presence with the tragedy molten in the past, he does so through a rupture that occurs in the immediacy of his own existence, in an event that reveals the mantle that sustains the activity of language. Such mantle he raises thus to glimpse the apollonian and dionysian powers, to question the dream and intoxication, the graphisms crystallized of history and the converged sonority of thought. The line that crosses such an event bifurcates the times of history and composes them from its subjective prism. At first, the homeric question is guarded by Nietzsche as an angular stone towards the classic: fragmenting and refracting the folk poetry in a projection that becomes active in the present and that confabulates the reason of a theatrical retrojection that reacts to the voices attracted by the past. While the homeric question silences the tragedy beyond the impassable axis of the classic, although it constitutes a scream that ignites the historical presence of language, it also conspires like a diamond-light that petrifies him immediately: on the one hand, making Homer a wealth of significations and collective narratives which meaning and value sediment the aesthetic formations held in history; on the other hand, setting up his unexpected individuality in an outlook that goes through the present language to the tragedy itself. Continue reading

Singing microfascisms

Music: Jennifer Delfino
Video: Nick Fox-Gieg

I found this music video on YouTube that seems very useful to illustrate what is a microfascism. We start from the idea that a microfascism emerges when there is a blocked and repressed desire that is molarized through a codificated flow which investment is totalitarian. When that happens, the creative line of flight that involves  desire becomes a line of abolition or a line of death. In the video we have a girl who wants to be famous and whose subjectivity lies encysted in common sense. Continue reading

Naturträne

Through the open window I can see
The tiny clouds hovering in the sky
The wind is blowing, my nose is freezing
… a few exhaust pipes are spluttering.

Ah, the sun is going down
Red and gold, as it should be
I look down to the street below
And see a friend standing there

Suddenly my heart feels heavy
I just need to see birds fluttering
And my eyes turn up to the sky
How it jurts my soul – how beautiful!

Nature in the evening, a peaceful town
Tormented soul, the tears flow
It all makes me feel so feeble
And makes the tears flow even more
Aaah…

Continue reading