Geology of Repression Part II
The idea here is to desecrate the tomb of Freud.
If we can desecrate the tomb of Deleuze while we’re at it, that’ll be extra, and we’ll demand extra recompense, too… maybe we’ll get that hefty year-end bonus, complete with questionably-legal options, heaped on.
Philosophy not only needs to bake bread, and make pants, but it also needs to pay a dividend.
Philosophy is hard work.
Desecration is hard work – hazardous, too.
It teeters and tweeters between comedy and tragedy, and sometimes it falls violently into the void…
We all know that when we take on risk, we must ask for extra benefit. When was the last time that a good desecrator’s bio made the pages of the New York Times business section?
Where is our extra benefit?
We won’t strike for these extra demands, but we will halt reality unless they are met.
Meet these demands. Our neurosis won’t wait.
We know that you think our neurosis is a trivial matter. Our psychosis? Even more trivial. And yet, we have observed you carefully with our detail-absorbing eyes every time we’ve begun thinking and twitching upon our favorite subjects: ethics and aesthetics.
We don’t know a damned thing about ethics and aesthetics. Don’t care to know a damned thing about them, either. We just really, really like it when we innocently and naively make statements about them, and you get very, very upset.
You can’t really believe that we are speaking with authority about ethics and aesthetics… we’ve consistently done every damned thing we could think to do or to say to discourage such a belief… we speak upon ethics and aesthetics as idiots, unabashed drooling and gibbering idiots, and we do not disguise this. You think there is a grounds for being upset at idiot’s gibbering? Why?
Give us the money… but we won’t stop gibbering.
At the very least, we won’t need to worry so much about the planet, and its human and nonhuman occupants – we’ve received such a disproportionate slice of the pie that worrying about anything other than how we’ll spend that slice ceases to be of interest. ( Though it does earn interest – amazing Prior to desecrating tombs, I was more interested, but earning less interest, and I was unfulfilled. )
Lacan can be the villain of the piece.
We can have him desecrating the tomb of Freud, slinking off, and then praising Deleuze copiously; then getting scared by just how far Deleuze goes; Lacan intended Freud’s tomb to be desecrated, but with decorum…. Deleuze isn’t scatological, so he doesn’t smear shit on Freud’s place of rest, but isn’t sweet, or dulce, with what he does to it either.
Freud’s tomb had settled into the sediment.
It was not sad.
Freud’d been born old; he’d been born with both hands upon the wheel; his petal’d pedal to the medal’d metal; by his own reckoning, he himself could never qualify as a very good “ analyst.” He hadn’t been laid enough… that meant that he’d never be a good ‘lay’ analyst… the only kind that matters.
Freud’s tomb belongs in the sediment… …..Being there in the sediment now is “just so.”
It’s all a tumbling mess. We aren’t going to award options for a tumbling mess. Where are you going? You mean that life is a fine tumbling mess? That we must award options for either life or death? Which’ll it be… desecrate Freud’s tomb, or earn interest?