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Marts 31., 2022
 | 06:41 - :
Silta ķirzaka pazūd starp akmeņiem drupās
Upe neiet tam pāri bet apiet tam apkārt
Cilvēks uz stūra pārdod zudušas pilsētas karti
Kad tu neskaties spogulī spogulis elpo
Sapnī tavs vajātājs atnāk pie aplamām durvīm un tur viņu neielaiž iekšā
Mazās un sārņainās laimītes nepārlej
Sausus papīra pelnus aizpūtīs vējš
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 | 10:36
There is already a Rift between an object and its aesthetic appearance, a Rift within the object itself. Causality is not something that happens between objects, like some coming out party or freely chosen bargain into which things enter. It pours constantly from a single object itself, from the chōrismos between its essence and its appearance. The chōrismos gives rise to “blue notes” that both do and do not “express” the object in question, just as a blue note is pitched exquisitely, infuriatingly, impossibly between harmony and dissonance. [32] Objects are blues singing femmes fatales in the seedy cocktail lounge of reality.
An object is therefore both itself and not-itself, at the very same time. (“What is the difference between a duck? One of its legs is both the same.”) If this were not the case, nothing could happen. The uncanniness of objects, even to themselves, is what makes them float, breathe, oscillate, threaten, seduce, rotate, cry, orgasm. Because objects are themselves and not-themselves, the logic that describes them must be paraconsistent or even fully dialetheic: that is, the logic must be able to accept that some contradictions are true. [33] Objects are dangerous, not only to themselves, but even to thinking, if it cleaves to rigid consistency.
/Timothy Morton, Realist Magic/
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 | 15:02
Or maybe “un-becoming-human.” We may have to put a further qualification in there. You see, because whatever this is, it is not even a prototype. Don’t take this book as a model for how to be. No, no. It’s not a blueprint. It’s just a pair of twisted, intelligent people, playing with toys—and their salads—And their salads, and various other life forms. So in a certain way, this isn’t a map. This project isn’t a map.
It’s more like a bit of territory in which we’ve… Squatted. About this much, about two square inches of it, that we’re squatting. Squat the hyperobject. That’s the new t-shirt that everybody has to wear. That t-shirt needs to be made. Is this the Introduction? Because if it is, I’m just noticing that we’re doing it. It’s not unpleasant. It’s true. Something’s happening.
/Timothy Morton, Dominic Boyer. hyposubjects: on becoming human/
Lasīju, ķiķināju, domāju, bļe, žēl, ka šito te latviski nesagaidīsim, jo nav tak tādu psihopātu, kas gribētu šito izdot (nu kaut vai fragmentiņu?) un tad visa tāda PAGA PAGA :)
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