Derrida & Socially Unacceptable Emotions
September 19th 2009 10:34
:
Just 'Dance' (About Architecture)
Category: No Category
So I finally convinced my parents to get that Amazon.com order for me, with the (auto)biographical documentary Derrida in the package.
Derrida had a habit of furrowing his brow when he talked, his forehead only smoothing when his correspondent doesn't show bemusement. Clearly he was used to being found obfuscating, incomprehensible, or just plain crazy. He seemed to unwrinkle his forehead only once it was established that he was being treated in a welcoming way. The state of his upper head changes so thoroughly (from crinkled to wrinkle-free, by comparison) that he seems to gain a few centimetres of forehead every time he makes the change.
He spoke a bit more slowly than I do, choosing his words carefully and wasn't afraid to hesitate. His reticence on the subject of his personal life is unfortunate, yet also revealing in its own way - he is protective of what he sees as his private life.
Derrida said that he couldn't create stories, as such, but admired those that could. Quite a remarkable statement from the author of many books, and one I can relate to, as it's all I can do to write a blog post sometimes... I simply do not know how to mask my subversiveness as digestible (to most people).
The idea of writing a novel terrifies me: I am not interested in escaping into an alternative universe myself, so I do not wish to cultivate such a habit it others. I would like to write about the world I know, as imaginatively as possible, and inspire much faith in it.
Then again, it would be fair to say that I am creating an 'alternative world' for others every time I string more than two sentences together. Perhaps fiction is all I write, after all. But this is not my preferred narrative of choice - just a dissidence that I can work into my overall multivalence.
(You know that you're meant to study literature when the most appealing part of finding the valency of chemicals is imagining the word 'valency' spoken out loud in your head each time you reference it.)
Anyway, Derrida made several other statements that stimulated my sense of affinity, such as his argument that one illuminating interpretation of a paragraph can be more of a tribute to a theorist than an entire biography on them. At such times I wish he were still alive today and I would be able to engage in correspondence on such matters with him.
I found it interesting that his parents never read any of his books, and upon being told that 'differance' made it into a dictionary, his mother chastised him for spelling it incorrectly. While my parents read my material, they are unable to appreciate it much. (I am thankful, however, that they try.)
In one interview JD holds his own hand (placing one palm on top of the other), directing his energy to the side of him most away from the camera, a response I can well relate to - stimulating one's own self as best as one knows how (later, when talking about sensual matters, he runs his hand over his face and lips). While I can appreciate his request that the artificiality of the interviews and footage be consciously acknowledged (perhaps better than most), I also think that he was just hesitating. A subtle way of holding back - advancing a more comfortable line of enquiry, rather than tackling the subject which makes you most uncomfortable.
I identified with Jacques the most when he claimed that he had only read 'three or four' books in his library, "but I have read those four really, really well." My mother often disdains my intellectual reach, claiming that I cannot be that marvelous a theorist if I have not read a certain amount of 'the classics'. This is incredibly insulting to a person who reads as widely as I do, and with as much passion. I have read some canonical books, but I am at a stage in my life where I choose texts not according to how much popular acclaim they have amassed but how subversive they are, and how they enrich me spiritually.
JD's library was vast, stretching from the ground to the ceiling. I am quite proud of my library too, and I have access to some impressive numbers of texts that I can pull out and mull over at random whenever curiosity takes over. Perhaps one day I will have a library of a similar scope (breadth indicating depth, and vice versa).
It also struck a chord when he was asked what he would like to know about the lives of philosophers he admires such as Heidegger, and he responded with 'their sex lives'. He clarified that he did not wish to view them in pornographic films, but rather simply wanted to read about their articulation of their passions, find out who they were at their most intimate and loving. He expressed dissatisfaction with how asexual most theorists represented themselves.
However, he declined to offer this kind of information about himself - consistent with his reticence and need for privacy, but not consistency with his eagerness to indulge in a culture of sexual openness and acceptance. If he was still alive, I would have recommended that he read Rob Brezsny's 'Sex Tips For The Very Plain', a great example of a sensational theorist exploring sensuality, love and sex through a lens of spiritual intellectuality.
Here's another clip that might resonate with people who regularly think irregularly:
I will remember him fondly, and may even consider adding his books to my (very overloaded) list of books to read in the very near future. You can never read too many books at once, right?
I also want to check out Alain de Botton's 'A Week At The Airport: A Heathrow Diary', partly because I know he has been influenced by 'The Global Soul' by Pico Iyer (I suggested it to him), and partly because I saw part of an extract and it seems interesting.
In short, today has been good for my particular brand of eccentricity. Long may I be irrelevant to those dedicated to basking in the mediocrity of the present day - you know, the kinds of people I am surrounded with in everyday life.
Reader, won't you join me? Tell me what you think of Mr Jacques Derrida. Make it original. Say it from the heart. Make me smile.
Derrida had a habit of furrowing his brow when he talked, his forehead only smoothing when his correspondent doesn't show bemusement. Clearly he was used to being found obfuscating, incomprehensible, or just plain crazy. He seemed to unwrinkle his forehead only once it was established that he was being treated in a welcoming way. The state of his upper head changes so thoroughly (from crinkled to wrinkle-free, by comparison) that he seems to gain a few centimetres of forehead every time he makes the change.
He spoke a bit more slowly than I do, choosing his words carefully and wasn't afraid to hesitate. His reticence on the subject of his personal life is unfortunate, yet also revealing in its own way - he is protective of what he sees as his private life.
Derrida said that he couldn't create stories, as such, but admired those that could. Quite a remarkable statement from the author of many books, and one I can relate to, as it's all I can do to write a blog post sometimes... I simply do not know how to mask my subversiveness as digestible (to most people).
The idea of writing a novel terrifies me: I am not interested in escaping into an alternative universe myself, so I do not wish to cultivate such a habit it others. I would like to write about the world I know, as imaginatively as possible, and inspire much faith in it.
Then again, it would be fair to say that I am creating an 'alternative world' for others every time I string more than two sentences together. Perhaps fiction is all I write, after all. But this is not my preferred narrative of choice - just a dissidence that I can work into my overall multivalence.
(You know that you're meant to study literature when the most appealing part of finding the valency of chemicals is imagining the word 'valency' spoken out loud in your head each time you reference it.)
Anyway, Derrida made several other statements that stimulated my sense of affinity, such as his argument that one illuminating interpretation of a paragraph can be more of a tribute to a theorist than an entire biography on them. At such times I wish he were still alive today and I would be able to engage in correspondence on such matters with him.
I found it interesting that his parents never read any of his books, and upon being told that 'differance' made it into a dictionary, his mother chastised him for spelling it incorrectly. While my parents read my material, they are unable to appreciate it much. (I am thankful, however, that they try.)
In one interview JD holds his own hand (placing one palm on top of the other), directing his energy to the side of him most away from the camera, a response I can well relate to - stimulating one's own self as best as one knows how (later, when talking about sensual matters, he runs his hand over his face and lips). While I can appreciate his request that the artificiality of the interviews and footage be consciously acknowledged (perhaps better than most), I also think that he was just hesitating. A subtle way of holding back - advancing a more comfortable line of enquiry, rather than tackling the subject which makes you most uncomfortable.
I identified with Jacques the most when he claimed that he had only read 'three or four' books in his library, "but I have read those four really, really well." My mother often disdains my intellectual reach, claiming that I cannot be that marvelous a theorist if I have not read a certain amount of 'the classics'. This is incredibly insulting to a person who reads as widely as I do, and with as much passion. I have read some canonical books, but I am at a stage in my life where I choose texts not according to how much popular acclaim they have amassed but how subversive they are, and how they enrich me spiritually.
JD's library was vast, stretching from the ground to the ceiling. I am quite proud of my library too, and I have access to some impressive numbers of texts that I can pull out and mull over at random whenever curiosity takes over. Perhaps one day I will have a library of a similar scope (breadth indicating depth, and vice versa).
It also struck a chord when he was asked what he would like to know about the lives of philosophers he admires such as Heidegger, and he responded with 'their sex lives'. He clarified that he did not wish to view them in pornographic films, but rather simply wanted to read about their articulation of their passions, find out who they were at their most intimate and loving. He expressed dissatisfaction with how asexual most theorists represented themselves.
However, he declined to offer this kind of information about himself - consistent with his reticence and need for privacy, but not consistency with his eagerness to indulge in a culture of sexual openness and acceptance. If he was still alive, I would have recommended that he read Rob Brezsny's 'Sex Tips For The Very Plain', a great example of a sensational theorist exploring sensuality, love and sex through a lens of spiritual intellectuality.
Here's another clip that might resonate with people who regularly think irregularly:
I will remember him fondly, and may even consider adding his books to my (very overloaded) list of books to read in the very near future. You can never read too many books at once, right?
I also want to check out Alain de Botton's 'A Week At The Airport: A Heathrow Diary', partly because I know he has been influenced by 'The Global Soul' by Pico Iyer (I suggested it to him), and partly because I saw part of an extract and it seems interesting.
In short, today has been good for my particular brand of eccentricity. Long may I be irrelevant to those dedicated to basking in the mediocrity of the present day - you know, the kinds of people I am surrounded with in everyday life.
Reader, won't you join me? Tell me what you think of Mr Jacques Derrida. Make it original. Say it from the heart. Make me smile.
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