Thus I draw from the absurd three consequences, which are my revolt, my freedom, and my passion. By the mere activity of consciousness I transform into a rule of life what was an invitation to death, and I refuse suicide.
—Albert Camus
In honor of my awesome (and gorgeous) new friend who is a dog person and a book person.
The Electrician’s Song
Balanced in trepidation on our seeming edges
these pin-prick universes are seen by so few
Yet Bell-Flower worlds still await
in a light-bulb where we are the filaments
of charged tungsten, in carbide blended,
blessed by our sacred cathode vacuum
We spark at every resistance and capacity
Alternating currents of an unpredictable joke
what can be said at all can be said clearly, and what we cannot talk about we must pass over in silence.
—Ludwig Wittgenstein
In my short essay on Joyce, I tried to deal only with the word “yes” as it was performed, so to speak, in Ulysses. I tried to show all the paradoxes that are linked to the question of the “yes,” and this has to do with the fact that deconstruction is “yes,” is linked to the “yes,” is an affirmation. As you know, “yes” is the last word in Ulysses. When I say “yes” to the other, in the form of a promise or an agreement or an oath, the “yes” must be absolutely inaugural. Inauguration is the theme today. Inauguration is a “yes.” I say “yes” as a starting point. Nothing precedes the “yes.” The “yes” is the moment of institution, of the origin; it is absolutely originary. But when you say “yes,” you imply that in the next moment you will have to confirm the “yes” by a second “yes.” When I say “yes,” I immediately say “yes, yes.” I commit myself to confirm my commitment in the next second, and then tomorrow, and then the day after tomorrow. That means that a “yes” immediately duplicates itself, doubles itself. You cannot say “yes” without saying “yes, yes.
—Jacques Derrida (via gloomy-planets)
(via notesfromaboveground)
Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall’s gorgeous daughter, Leslie
I wish life were like Jeopardy,
with Alex our benign God, who speaks French on occasion.
My answer forming questions, make Alex smile,
“The literary cats category for 800, Alex”,
Obscure felines traipsing through pages are recalled so easily…
“The things I knows for some odd reason category for two hundred Alex.”
Alex smiles rather wickedly,
and spins that fucking wheel


