All Things Shining

Thomas Thinks and Finds Things Interesting

"And in a social context, we are constantly visible—at least potentially so—to an entire network of friends and acquaintances, which gives every offhand comment the potential weight and reach of a manifesto. It’s as if we are standing in the center of a roomful of people, but we don’t know where they’re looking, and we can’t help but feel, both excitedly and uneasily, that they may well be looking at us. Paranoid narcissism—the mixed desires and fears of being watched by unknown others—thus defines virtual society, giving rise to numerous related anxieties such as the sense of exposed insignificance and the fear of missing out."

PARANOID NARCISSISM: WHAT DOSTOEVSKY KNEW ABOUT THE INTERNET

From, The American Reader

nevver:

"It’s a QUANDRY, who lives on a shelf, in a hole in the ocean alone by himself. And he worries from dawn’s early light. And he worries, just worries, far into the night. He stands there and worries. He simply can’t stop… Is his top side his bottom? Or bottom side top?" — Dr. Seuss

nevver:

"It’s a QUANDRY, who lives on a shelf, in a hole in the ocean alone by himself. And he worries from dawn’s early light. And he worries, just worries, far into the night. He stands there and worries. He simply can’t stop… Is his top side his bottom? Or bottom side top?" — Dr. Seuss

“…you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on” 

The Unnamable - Samuel Beckett 

"Instead of being completely centered on me, this new orientation of experience is partially decentered. I can no longer claim to be its centre. Its necessary to be faithful to this decent ring. This fidelity designates a kind of norm that I impose upon myself, one which consists in not abandoning this decentring, or this new subject, for reasons strictly related to my fundamental narcissism or irreducible singularity. In love, there is always, then, an element of discipline, which intersects with the trivial meaning, if I can put it this way, of the word ‘fidelity’. I have to try to go on organizing my experience in a way that is incorporated to something that is not fully measured by it alone: which is to say that I am not the sole measure of a love. This is why love cannot be reduced to the lover’s psychology. Such a reduction presumes that the lovers’ psychology would be loves measure. But love is a subject that is somewhat beyond psychology. Whence the necessity to be faithful to it, and all the more so in that it traverses storms, temptations and separations." 

Alain Badiou, Philosophy and the Event, 49

"In sexual abandonment and in denudation before the other, there is an element of proof that attests that the body, our unique reality, is well and truly taken up in the scene of the Two: it’s the proof that the body doesn’t remain set aside. Love has to incorporate desire. But desire itself is never, on the other hand, immediately connected to love; it has its own laws, which are not immediately those of love. It is one of the numerous heterogeneous things that love must be capable of integrating. It is not, then, without reason that fidelity can basically be said to be a very simple and observable modality of the discipline imposed upon desire by love."

Alain Badiou, Philosophy and the Event, 48 

"I propose that one of the possible ways of defining love is as an obstinate struggle against separation. Every love stems from separation, with this thereby haunting, constantly and in spite of everything, the process." 

- Alain Badiou, Philosophy and the Event, 47

"There is nothing to which one is more severe than the errors that one has just abandoned." 

- Goethe