On the Foreshadowing of the Subject of the Act: The Έργον

An analysis which does not invoke the faith of the Act of life, is an empty speech- it is a cenotaph, unoccupied by the equi-vocal carcass, to be there, accordingly that the subject testifies that he does not belong to the flesh of that speaking corpse: that is how a resurrection ought to occur: this is to be explained as a crisis in psychoanalysis, nothing else: for there cannot be a crisis in psychoanalysis yet there can be a crisis with the psychoanalysts- one ought to love moments of crisis, be those of an imaginary order, for, it is those crises that will enable the breathing space and responsibility of the subject’s Act in support of the emerging of the Έργον.

 

And,  to murmur delicately a word to the theologian, himself the leader of murmurers and devout to the lettering of the oral object but not to the letter, he who masticates his phonemes acclimating of a desire that not much can be said about because he knows not what he is doing, and a Real who is beyond signification but not beyond an orientation because the Real is the Ethic, yes, beyond vocalizations but not beyond the Act: he who forsakes the act necessary for the living- for, he cannot see desire but as an empty Nothing: it is his own species, creatures of death and not subjects of life who have intellectualised psychoanalysis into a discourse subtracting the body of the world, castrating castration itself and never uttering at least, that, that the object of desire is the Breath, itself not materialised with the phallus’ measurements, itself not a fantasy whose ways depict the structure but the Παρουσία of the Παράκλητος, the Holy Breath sectored at the voice of the subject who ligaments his body not, not, not with Knots but with the draught of the Phoneme’s emission of intonations, sententious to the ears of he who has had a perspicacity of Death; and the Dream, that which Freud has given us with himself as the Double of his double, as the mirror testifies for the double raised on the square power, and where he pays his regards to the passage of miserable comforters of life, who are a misadventure in creating the emptiness of space of a spirit, lenders of an imaginary discourse to cure only to exterminate the subject, not so much from his signifiers but from the utilisation of an Act: the knowledge here is not of the I know nothing but of the I know so I assume the responsibility of the praxis because in the Real the Letters disappear where there is the Breath: transliteration, that which has been explain as a Μεταγραφή, not a metalanguage but a transliteration, and, for that to occur, so that Lunguage would emerge, the psychoanalysts’ punctuation ought to be at the level of a rough breathing perpendicular- such the Act functions on the graph of desire and the inconsistency of jouissance and desire- to what has been a primary vowel or diphthong: one does have the responsibility to hear not only the holophrastic  adventures of the signifiers but those of the letter too.

 

And from this consistency of the act and desire- one not representing another, an one that is not repeated- and their adhesiveness to the Kinesis of their ethic, the Έργον emerges into the world, not the scene, without the φ and a desire functioning as a pulsation and a lighthouse in the Pangaea of the Apeiron to enrich the shadow of the object; and, though it is perpendicular and breezes in from atop the graph of desire, it is of the earth, for, there is no Other foundational speech other than the I desire and therefore I Act: it is when in Kinesis: that is the Έργον as there cannot be any one thing more metaphysical that the Ethic of Life nominated as the Freudian Ascetic experience of psychoanalysis: the ΠαρΟυσία of the Παράκλητος, who is said to be absent from the sessions and it is him precisely that one may invoke within the session’s Real time, for, and because, of this presence the subject proceeds to his Act- he who has never been called by psychoanalysts because they are bound to the pseudo-ethical dimension of a deontology of their aphasic apraxia, and for that reason, they, either cannot speak to the world, or, they, they as they say, speak onto an imaginary platform of knowledge and thus reducing the real experience into a complicated intellectualism, a new version of a phallic position as they cannot move; an analysis which does not invoke the faith of the Act is an empty speech: as long as a full speech reveals its chasm and lack because of the presence of the Act- the fifth constituent by which analysts endear the object and not the discourse, because that which cannot be said is an Act: one may not identify that with a doing and neither refer it as knowledge, certainly not that psychoanalysts are doomed to evaporate as soon as the figure of speech of a given analysand shows to them that one may not position his arrangement according to the coordination of a structure’s Antinomination, especially when it comes to the specificity of the Act.

 

The Έργον speaks: I desire, therefore I Act– a foreshadowing of a speech, which is the Lunguage of the Act: here is manifested a cool heavenly gentle wind, the Breath, a good use of the gap’s emptiness: beyond the structure the barrenness itemize the Act, which is not One so it cannot be repeated- there is no incompatibility between desire and Act: and the vocative case of Desire is life itself- for, further than the agony of lack accompanying the empty amplitudes  of an architectural configuration, the actual traumatic experience of knowing what to do with the Real is the responsibility of one’s Act, the Άγών, an uncontaminated manifestation of Freud’s to love and to work, only that, as said before, and as far as life is concerned, no psychoanalyst has ever been a athletics’ legend; because he who is the carrier of the Act confronts the chorus of the linearity of desire and jouissance and ought to descend from the exceeding shield of the Death Drive, from the gap of the Breath, only to be digested into another gap: such is the practice of the Letters- too feminine for he who does not exchange the Phallus for the saving of his soul: and, if the Gods of sentence structures are departed and the subject has misplaced its devotion to what has been aphoristic at the level of a jouissance that eventually emerged as a Name of the Father, a star of Bethlehem leading the magicians to their destination where it has been marked that Out of Egypt I called my Son, this subject ought then to know how to synthesise a hymn with the pieces of its fragmented body, to sustain itself at the level of the praxis- a praxis is when “I represent and embody the Act,” and it is a ΠαρΟυσία: the real castration is the castration of the Ethic that orients the Bethlehem’s star itself, and from the fundamental fantasy one has the passage of honesty to the uninterrupted Fundamental Act: this is the prayer of psychoanalysts, alienated only by its chain of Acts, and the only true Verleugnung is that which blinds the subject from the hollow Αἰθήρ of this Act.

On the Hallucinations of Psychoanalysts

The knowledge of the psychoanalyst- that the Woman dedicates herself to that which has no forename but indulges the Letters to the dimness of kinesis: that it is not, the Not All but the Not Always the Same, and, as such, one may marvel without a question mark not so much indispensable for the act of an imaginary inhalation, the kinesis of the eulogies of the breath tickling the underarms of identifications and their signifiers parodying the so called body, which can be feminine as long as the so called man has exchanged the phallus with the Ethic and has gone further than the binary of good and evil: this cannot be a body event, hopefully not, because it would have been a miraculous Act, and because a female vulture cannot make love with the Breath unless she is fed by the words of the Father: and the Act that is to reveal, which is of not of the Other but of the Alien, which is an Apocalypse to the psychoanalyst and the psychoanalysand alike, even to that one who is not there, that Real, brought forth by he who has been called a sophist of faith and his inability, has marked in his ignorance that the Nothing veils the Apeiron, where the dimensions, for, the signifier journeys with the drive form the Arche to the end that becomes Arche, uncontested from the fantasy and pinned not with the stigmata of jouissance because it is not of the Other yet remains of language: the Father of the Real is the Act, one of many that do not maneuver the Ethic.

 

Do not be content with meaning or an interpretation that does not pin on the joins of life’s navigations, for the practice’s principles are those of the subject of life, be that of the unconscious: a proper intervention, let us nominate it as an interpretation and not a foreshadowing apposite for Teiresias, is what creates space for the revelation of desire- that is the orientation, and psychoanalysts ought to travel life, so to practice: I mean the orientation of life, because it is easy for the impostor, he who manipulates signifiers, to set up the Freudian Déjà Raconté, this time from the ideal position of psychoanalysts, a true hallucination for one’s Act: Love, that Letter, La Lettre d’amour that is uncouthingly barbarian in its vociferation principally and presently to the revivification of desire, with sounds that are not Greek to the ears of the Greeks, been remunerated and wedged, approximating the algebra of an inspiration that is cuneiform, within the phoneme’s relegation to the urinary trait, beside the signifiers of fantasy, to be fed by words and a space-time of Nothing: the scene of the world, as long as it is universal, it can have the support of the woman∙ and, from the abyss, which language, a chain of signifiers of subjectivity answering simple human questions of how to reside in this world- have been missed by psychoanalysts because they have too much faith on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum, for, very few shall taunt their mirrors so to teach them their prosthetic mouths in speaking of the Letter and how it was revealed to them: Francis of Assisis, an uncivilized man of God, has been in the realm the et comme océanique, and yet his scene has been brought into the world with a negative mark, certainly stigmata of Lunguage, I mean this infamous –φ, a dishonor in the act of copulation because that which brings together the bodies of speech is the breath as long as it is stage on desire: it is here where the philosopher has been correct, that the subject ought to love the forest and fairies, for it is not, indeed, enhanced to die within the dissipated offers of a deceiver.

On the Desire of God: the Faith of the Real

The Subject was in the signifier, and though the signifier was made through him, the signifier did not distinguish him, for, his desire was disoriented towards its own Act: it is a subject of Letters and of a body in flux, for, transliteration writes- it does not read.

 

There is no Metalanguage but there is a Μεταγραφή for the reason that the subject of the unconscious cannot replevin what is its endemic – and thus the subject subjugates the amphitheatric horizon  of his desire, harmonious with the Nothing and the Voice, I denote that villainous qualitative aspect of the Drive mentioned by Freud, which is not economical and does not endow Libido but to desire alone- it is at this overhaul of life where master signifiers become aware of the desire of the analyst, and they, having a right to be heard of their own, speak to them: from the moist on the wall of psychoanalysts’ knowledge where the signifiers entertain their Ουσία from the dedication of the Other, the written letters, shapeless and in constant plasmatic Kinesis, the subject is called upon the altar of responsibility to transliterate desire into a destiny of a cause, a DesDing: and from the object to die for, to the Cause to die for- and from the Δόξα of the Gaze and the exposure of the Imaginary to the grounding into the scene, to the Κλέος of the Voice: even further than this: to Lunguage, to the Πνοή του Λόγου, because the Letter dwells in its home-less-ness among the discourse’s royal roads  and the master signifiers, hidden and hiding, not meaning, but a bearing of the Pilgrim of the Freudian Cause, to which Dante’s encountering with Beatrice has been ripened into the wealth of encountering that light, not of God but of a cause, this same light which, in its silence and never spoken or thought of, hegemonises because of psychoanalysts’ fascination with death and not life, assisting in the existence of the Shadow of the Object– for so much does a shadow need light in its appeal to the eye of the beholder, him who does believe that there is no Other of the Other, but cannot even dare to have the slightest faith that the Alien of the Real, which is beyond the Father, and to which women dedicate their inhalation and their bodies, desiring that faith of the No-Body, of the Act, and of the consecrated fortitude: of that Breath which cannot be said unless experienced through the Act of Lunguage- for, that which cannot be said is an Act, not a doing.

On the Harrowing of the Ουσια: the Descent into the Signifier

 

“Then Death and Hades were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death:” the Delphian intonation, equivocal to its orientation and Kinesis, of psychoanalysts, who veritably can be acquainted with how to live, ought to be, What is the second life- that is a route for the analysts’ treatments: one ought to be able to perform miracles, principally those of resurrecting those bodies of signifiers ghostwriting the theorem How does a body that is of the signifier breathe: and it is One because it is one by one- surely not an allotment.

 

Descensus Christi ad Inferos: that definitely needs a No-Body event, whispered she who receives the signifiers in their essence, so that the imprisoned desire, has its consigning in the subject’s Act of life- it is this that has legislated psychoanalysis and has given it a part within the world: hallowed be the Subject’s Letters, for they are the pillars of his desire’s prayers, one by one, one for each psychoanalyst who has received formation beyond the threshold that Lacan pints as the limit of the subject’s configuration, this beyond, in plural, which are, not is, the homilies of the κατελθόντα εἰς τὰ κατώτατα: the adobe of the Real where the woman is deprived of nothing and psychoanalysts are faced with the ἄπειρον without knowing how to dance without a body: it is that operative functioning as the solidness of the orientation, one towards life, from the Unheimliche to the world and the introduction of the cosmos to what has been the fixation of fantasy- but for that, one ought to depart afar from the phallus altar and measure the binary of the Other with that ethical breadth from where libido does not ground the body to the blows of the arrow of the drive, because the Ουσία is divided by the Father.

 

“He who descended not above the Letter but within its shadowed, the most shadowed place within the fantasy of the structure and identifications, that of the Object’s shadow befalling upon the Subject not missing from the scene,  is the very one who ascended higher than all the heavens, in order to fill the whole universe:” and certainly this is the immeasurable of the feminine: and from this introduction, where the signifier alone and its polysemousness does not function on the structure as the only investment reference of the subject’s property wihin the geographical aspects of a panorama: one can as well stream, as long as the Ethic of the letters representing the Desire’s Act is at hand, within the masculine threshold of history and linearity towards the narration and invariable investigation and the feminine: lo and behold, for the subject gives its body and being as a frame for that mirror excluding the Object, the Phallus and the Trieb, itself becoming a mirror, truly, becoming itself a figure of speech: it is not ἀφάνισις of the Subject but ἀφάνισις of its orientation as far as that regards the desire that is plasmatic: the Act is the product of ἀφάνισις, ἀφάνισις as royal way to the Act been perpendicular to the path of jouissance and the signifiers: the Act does not represent one for another, for, the Real dignifies the analysts and bestow them the Letters of desire that are above every Name of the Father, so that, in the name of the Act that can only be Ethical, every knee should bend, of those in the scene of the scene, and on the earth, and under the oath of desire and of a duty that can be only universal: that is what one may call, as Lacan did, “the moral experience involved in psychoanalysis is the one that is summed up in the original proposed in what might be called the Freudian ascetic experience.”

On the Trigonometry of Sex and Desire.

The epistle to the Antioch, and to those Doubles of the Same, too much of the Same, who have reduced the Real into a palaveric discourse of philosophy in speaking about the world from a stasis, a Fixierung of other appurtenances and an organ and not an Organon of diagnosis, truly of their position, for they know not how to speak, and they know not about knots, but they very well know about the doing, not the Act- the woman in not Not All, but all knots and Theseus alone knew how to use Ariadne’s thread∙ and beyond doubt they can argue about an arrangement for psychoanalysts, and, worst to be, of their interventions and Voice, as if life was in a languishing semiosis, another funda-mental fantasy belonging to the analysts who have never actually died: they speak for a stasis and not for Anastasis because their configuration of what is prognosticated has not led them to death and, hence, they desire with the flesh, thinking that desire can actually be housed with blood, bones, and skin- they yet to learn that, as far as the plasticity of the destiny is concerned, the Phallus is replaced by the Breath and can never be its counter-wish in a dream, for, the Πνοή του Λόγου, of that Lunguage where the psychoanalysts’ interpretations do not form new signifiers but construct the Nothing for the destiny’s Letters: where the Phallus was, the Real, which is the Ethic, shall be: and with that, Pygmalion has created the feminine, not the Agalma of Pygmalionism’s object- yet again another veil of the feminine.

 

But the commander of the Antiochian cherubic legion, guardians of the origination that has already rediscovered psychoanalysis in its own authentic time, has long now congested harboring faith to the Real, which is the Ethic of a tickle of a palm, of a Plasma’s trigonometric topography, with some aid from the hypotenuse’s axiomatic phoneme, upon the graph of Desire in the comportment seduction of the perpendicular axing, and to the facts that psychoanalysts ought to give evidence for – that what is actually repressed is desire – and has bequeathed like a beggar to the imaginary of sermonizing and not even praying about the Voice of Life, without, without at first living it∙ from the cosmos to the Unheimlich: he who is not the charlatan of the Other doe not jaw his letters and recites a new speech, saying that the feminine loves the Voice- for, there is no other way for her to leave the Avatar of her signifiers, but, for that to happen the masculine subject must at first, and beyond shadow of the object’s doubt, accept to admeasure the flection of a trigonometrically attuned crisis with the phallus, and, with the Ethic at hand, evaporated like that mist on the wall that keeps reshaping its mystery, the Letter, interpolated by Lacan when, at the same seminar, he never failed to return to the la lettre d’amour, to love and to work- thus from its signifiers of morality: it is not deontology, I mean, the Act, for it is not incarcerated into the circuit of a binary but of structural anabasis where the symptom, not the subject, like the Logos of a river never to be the same, flexes a feminine stream: in and within the Act, which the simpleton nominates as 2, two acts because he has never hold in his hands a thread:  the act of the psychoanalyst creates a space for responsibility and the assumption of the price to be paid, in regards to the structures and not to jouissance alone∙ I mean accountability for desire, and the knowing what to do with it.

 

I am Alpha and Omega and the Ουσία that can only be a Breath of the feminine- too much of a feminine for a man to witness: my ears auscultate the nasty noises of a few chairs of those masters, cracking their furniture’s wood- they cannot move in breathing spaces along the breeze of such an inhalation, for, they have to discover how does this particular subject, this analysand in question, has access to Lunguage: and that is the work of a figure of speech, in attendance from the very first session, never preliminary because the analyst as a geography of the Ουσία does not unearth his kinesis in the stasis of the phantasy: the destiny of the Letters is the orientation after the Sinthome, beyond that threshold where, at its gates, psychoanalysts usually stop: it forms the No-Body and the Being Silent, the ErgOn, in the same comportment that one crosses the verge from language to Lunguage towards the breathing of his letters: it is at this, where, excluding the dearth of the Other forming the options of a so called sexual relationship, where the mathematics of the sexes remind us of the beyond the Name of the Father and the knowing what to do with the structure of the woman, not her Double but the contexualisation of her breath, the set including two desires  privated, avowed in a perverse compass reading, and directed to scrupulous causes- it is then that the sexual act causes desire, via the Voice and not the Gaze, because the Voice is the way to the Breath, in the equivalent thoroughfare, that, before the Act, not the psychotherapeutic Act that shifts the sitting arrangements in the matching fantasy and sophisticates identifications, before the Act as I was saying, there, we have the prolegomena, which is a set of signifiers precisely not talking about the Act· this particular Act crosses perpendicularly the graph of desire, crossing and setting the bar on the elliptical yet in linear motion path of the signifiers, themselves tied to the jouissance and the Fixierung, the Alphabet Stasis where the subject can read but cannot write.

On the Freudian Asceticism of Lunguage

Father, forgive them- for they are idiots: and they divided up their desire by casting the utterance’s lot upon signifiers to whom they could only venerate and subtracted from their Ousia the Act of life: they, at a standstill, and speaking of positions and never of Kinesis,  think that corpses without desire are more athletic to be esteemed than manure.

 

And, from Desire and its evocative phonation – to which, to which, he who has never been valorous and a subject of commissioning his full speech with the cornucopia of the Act, that it could have been characterised by the ethic as a veridical Act besides that of the ceremonious suicide: a much more delicate one, indeed, is the act of life through which, the subject, proceeds to the ErgOn- it is the only factual creation, po-e-n-try, unless one amuses oneself by insinuating honours to mimicry and to a language whose letters are those signifiers, master has to be said, who attach libido to the flesh, and, yet, they are not those Letters of Lunguage through which, desire, through which desire becomes destiny- for the Breath is the Object of Desire and the motion by which the Das Ding functions as a DesDine for those subjects who know what to do with the Real: with this, let us mark on the wounds of a hand in need of fingers to touch the trauma, as a gesture necessary for those to whom devotion has no biosphere in their vertical history, and have emanated science as the Other of our practise, that those Letters are not read but breathed from where the gap of one’s desire choked: a subject is truly divided by its desire that returns and returns and knocks the doors of the deaf man- for he who has spoke for βίος, the signifier of life that brings forth death, has also said that “The most beautiful universe is pouring out sweepings at random:” let us call this descry and crossing of the path with the letters of Lunguage as the Πνοή του Λόγου∙ and, with this, once again and hopefully for the last time, time, time as the false guarantee of he who does not have faith in the process and Kinesis, of life itself, we will renounce the line of the thieves and the scribes torturing the supposed ethic of deontology, that other aspect of the Other of a rhetoric we have been too bored to death to hear, for a thousand times, which they repeat, for, they do not assume responsibility and cloud themselves behind the Subject supposed to know when in fact our experience in the clinic tells us that we should know about our acts and especially to assume the accountability of our interventions:  deontology is the displacement of one’s’ desire onto the context of a supposed orientation, one certainly missing the Ουσία of what constitutes the ex- in-stance of psychoanalysis: for, it is within its schematic kinesis where letters write what becomes, from desire, a destiny not anchored to the Other∙ the Ουσία is that subsisting in the inconsequence of that which orders a body within the cosmos- subsisting by and in itself and by not having its being in AnOther- as long as it is familiar with its Lunguage- because desire for desire, to which bad and lazy mathematicians forget to mention that the square root of such a division, desire for desire: the square root of desire for desire is the Act.

 

And when the die was cast, they were at a halt and afraid to speak up their mind because Jouissance displaces desire and de-condenses the letters’ schemata: they actually had faith as long as it is not theirs- how much does the signifier love the thieve of the cross, him for whom neither life nor death have been enabled to have some faith to that which is of the world and of the Unheimliche∙ one ought to love moments of crisis: it is what capacitates the Act and the chains of acts functioning perpendicular on the linearity of the signifiers- that which life teaches us that it is not science but conscience of the Real time, no less than faith: it could have been a good idea for ones’ formation, not by the way of the symptom(a), which contains the later corpse, but neither of the syn-drome, a signifier including the Greek Δρόμος not suitable for psychoanalysts who cannot be athletic, but via that Act which forces a Freudian body to breathe, and to which it ought to Συνδράμει: it cannot do otherwise unless we bring to the fore the practise’s monolith of fixation as something outside of this world, to turn it into an intellectual uncanny for simpletons who foreclose life itself: for, the longing of desire that returned from the repressed to find its letters is celebrated with the psychoanalysts’ prayer: that which is of the psychoanalyst, because, if desire is what has brought the Hypokeimenon of the unconscious into being, then, then the Act is what shall give rise to its Kinesis∙ the ErgOn is the speaking being who has spoken and acts: the subject is faced with the peaceful ecstasy of the idiot, he who speaks to the subject with the voice of a priest, with an inhuman calmness of a supposed holy man- a supposed veil to the idiot, him who has no experience of life but knows how to speak and write about master signifiers: that Voice is a semblance and the psychosomatic stimulation of the psychoanalysts cave’s idols.

 

And the numbers of the rolling cubes have revealed a code- not enough for the Same to ruin the fame of the Other: the divided subject speaks of the longing of Enosis with desire- it is here that analysts dedicate their body to the Act of Desire and pass the threshold of episteme towards Doxa, not doxology but Feme- feminine indeed: and, my dear friend, in line with Freud as you said, that a necessary university discourse becomes the base of analysts, assuming that it is from the gap and faults of knowledge’s guarantee that the unconscious manifests its ways, as a parapraxis, paralogia, a slip of what the posture of he who thinks he knows, necessary that might be in the same way catholic priests are trained and in themselves they forgot how is it to have some faith to that god who is situated in the unconscious, and to that desire who is repressed∙ if there is a knowledge in the unconscious, it is that of a mystery of the Real, of how to allow it come to you, of that infamous knowing what to do… and without a Father- it cannot be imaginary, as the word becomes flesh and through the act, an act of faith, the flesh becomes word: that ought to be one of the end of analysis, but for the very few who are not trapped within the signification of the phallus as the priest’s training towards meaning, and accept a direct blow to their countenance by the object, until they dissolve it into thin air, one of a kind for this specific Breath, which is the only object of desire to attain, each in its own rhythm and quantity∙ for, you went into the trouble to explain in another seminar that the Doxa you referred to, so many times, has not been that of the coward and of the Pharisee: and from the Jew who knows how to read, you pointed in your ignorance to the Gentile who knows how to write.

 

And when the subject, beyond the Other and close to the Alien, in Enosis with desire, it is divided by another lack- his Act: none has given them the universe- a feminine without an Ethic.

On Desire and its Constr(a)ction: The Stigmata of Lunguage

And he who has fathomed and now does not, has spoken: and has not asked Quis ut Deus but Qui est Psychoanalyst– and when he has spoken it is then that he Acts: for, the Gods are in the field of the Real: and let that he, that he who has encountered the divine disease to lambaste silence with nails and mallet to engrave the direction from that virus of the lavation knowledge, so as that remains a mystery for she who is a lady and whose femininity is making the mise en scène and not the Other Scene of the Das Ding: for the symptom is a cause not defined, ἀόριστον wrote the philosopher: lo and behold to the psychoanalysts who think they are speaking beings and not Ergon: the Act and the constr-a-ction of desire are the stigmata of such an encounter from the time when full speech chronicles the verb and the ErgOn- it is speech which performs: that which cannot be said, is an Act- and that is the holy communion of language.

 

He, that he of a Pyrrhonian skepticism, who does not pay the price, only speaks of its desire- and he who thinks that has spoken it, subtracting from that speech the act, has not spoken about it, for, desire can only be ethical versifying the speaking body from the scene to the world, not the social: he who speaks, says I have spoken- and I desire therefore I Act: he who has spoken and acted is not a Pharisee, and denies the position of the psychoanalyst bequeathing value to the proposal of that which is thought to be a location but it is not, for, it moves in mysterious ways for him who practices psychoanalysis∙ and the spirits of the letters shape a poem, Where Ego was, the Ethic shall be- and where there was the scene, there shall be Kinesis∙ for, Εγ εμι τ Α κα τ Ω, λγει Κριος Θες, ν καν καρχμενος, παντοκράτωρ: I am Kinesis, and where there was Language, the Lunguage shall itemize the Letters of the Breath to the everlasting destiny of he who desires without the phallus: and speaking of schizophrenia, let us mention clandestinely, that the object is embodied as a mirror to those magnificent, so called, Ordinary personal belongings, ordinary because the analysts motionless think in terms of the Other of the symptom, no less than a cognition of a different time limit and frame: psychoanalysts ought to ask themselves about the value of that Organon, that which we may consider as a Real Phallus: a noise provokes one to take into custody, that one scratches the pudenda of the flesh- a terrible joke for a saint apprised to isosyllabic aphorisms.

 

Truth can only be imaginary- a false bearing of the treatment, if the orientation aims at the Real∙ the ethic is the elucidation of psychoanalysts trapped into data and the questions of truth of information and not of in-formation: one ought to think of Scylla and Charybdis∙ and, truth be told, an expression reverberating once more and all over again as a joke to Lazarus or to the pre-mentioned saint, who, would have said something about it, that, that in a perverse structure there is the Nirvana of anxiety equivalent and not less to that experienced in schizophrenia at the moment of Discobolus’ Πάθος, when the flesh enclaves it to seizure and the explosion of the Real until there is the, either the passage to the act with the use of the fetish, or, the act of a passage in relation to a cause: and in the second case, it is not that the woman does not exist, but fantasy does not exist: it is hatched with Vulcan’s hammer around the ethic of the means to the threshold of the Act and convoyered faithfully by the Cerberus of responsibility that few dare to surpass, of this particular subject, placing its being at the source of the Drive and not its object.

 

And, the letter not at the place of the object alone, but in the motion of the phallus that, amicably extenuate itself in the Ousia, such is the arrival from the arena to the earth and when the signifier moxies further than the suppositious’ excellent determination of meaning∙ for, such a discontent cicatrices the one-by-one exception of the nullification of the one father who is to turn the wheel, not around itself but, a dose of unanimity, towards a new di-gnified direction- a Τύχη and not an Αυτόματον, an act and not a doing: and when nomination is indiscriminated by the maneuvering of letters instead of a name, according to Freud, is, then, a true example of a real assessment of someone possessing not long legs but long arms: Francis of Assisi, the Lady who is born from the Das Ding and whose w-hole being, of that Apeiron subject who, yet, is not a Goddess, is de-incarnated by the material substance of the fetish and is in search for a cause: it is he, though a she, he, “He who goes as far as he can in the path of desire:” but that, takes an even higher price to be paid than the symptom or a bereavement by life: it takes a death and a new being: such is the path of the psychoanalysts’ formation, those who shift the letters from Language to Lunguage, because das Ding is fainted to the perimeter of the signifier but not peripheral to lung-guage: it is not without a Letter and itself is not a body event∙ it can be asserted with a no-body eventualisation: the Act of desire is a result of the latter but very few deny to say, “I would prefer to be the slave of a slave than the king of the underworld,” because, they say, that there is a rudimentary incapability between speech and desire: yes, indeed, there is: these honorable mouths address a given legitimacy∙ that, no ὑποκείμενον can speak of its Breath: dear friend, there is no incapability between the Act and Desire, unless one still fantasizes the taxiarch who will act on the subject’s place and yet without stating: Στώμεν καλώς, στώμεν μετά φόβου.

On the Ex-Ascesis of the Nirvana Principle

“Then I saw another beast that rose out of the earth: it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon:” Feminine jouissance is an epicene direction of the ethic of the geometry of the kinesis itself- an effeminated return of the psychoanalyst to the world asking, now, different questions, to that which is the scene of the Real, not perversion but reversion of the object of the drive and the object causing that desire in question, which is between two telluric grounds: and he who analyses with musicality, avowedly been seraphic devout to Freud’s timelessness of the unconscious and to the amaranthine of its faculty, do so by his paraphernalia and a singular apparatus that is a phallus itself- such a process is not Freudian in ethic and unquestionably not an Ex-ascesis: it shall not be called an analysis: lo and behold of such analysts who still measure the salamander’s tail in centimeters.

 

“For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work, but only until the one who now restrains it is removed:” And, where the subject in the royal combat of ex-instance, and of the monotonic sound of a voice hoisting the enchantment of structure, struggles with the signifiers’ repression and the Real of his desire- a no-meaning but a letter’s ability to notion, not only witching a discourse that is of the Other- the mandate to a desiring subject-matter is this: do not listen to those father confessors of an unfaithful longing, saying, that nothing can be said about the Real because the Real is the Ethic, for, the responsibility of the psychoanalytic Ascesis requires that psychoanalysts should, unless they crease their hands and dedicate the offer of endowment to a discipline of a diverse rogation· and, when you encounter the object, do not shroud it but make a contribution of your being to its caressing with the words of he who has returned with new questions, until that, that which is an imaginary aim and object becomes a Real source for the love of silence, for it is there that the Verbificated Subject of the unconscious acts: it is this: that he who did not experience the indomitable hostility and Energeia of life soaks a speech, to converse for that which cannot be said- a joker would christen this as an irony in case an impostor could giggle without enjoying the astounding of the Other: and yet, it is not truly funny· for, that which cannot be said, indeed, is an unmasked alphabet for he who cannot read the repressed ethic with precision: the silence of that which cannot be said is not a kingdom come for him who has already spoken∙ he who knows how to Act, Acts- and the analyst whose symptom has not been beaten by the toxic capacity of life cannot analyze with accuracy· it is those who address hunger with a filled stomach and ask their masters How do I encounter that which cannot be said, only to receive the retort that this riddle of such a stumble upon is to advocate the talking: indeed, it is true when one does not know what is an Act- of faith.

 

“Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth with their armies gathered to make war against the rider on the horse and against his army:” For, the scene and the world are Asceses themselves, one after the other yet not wrinkled to a diameter: and when the Voice and the spell descried of their the source, the Voice is such for the curse of the signifier, with he who has returned from the Principle which is Nirvana and not pleasure, the returned of the repressed ethic of desire, of that which is the Ousia of psychoanalysis, and the, when, the Verb brings to the world, from the scene, negativising the amount of the phallus and the ways analysts calculate the distance, end to end, of a salamander’s appendage, the ethic and destiny of the scene with the oblige of the drive- and yet subtracted from its object and having its source devoiced of the body- a kenosis by all means equaling poetry, no other art: the real is that which is symbolized in the Aether∙ a signifying symbioses of the discourse, the body, the Other, not of the Apeiron: and if that schizophrenic, him, him of the psychotic structure whom the analysts mistakenly are urged to speak of as ordinary and are advised to look for other cryptograms because they cannot read the ways of foreclosure, trapped within the symptoms’ ways after all, because their ears have been deafened to appreciate the ways of the Letters, seems to be dancing in an obsessive holy ceremony, under the pressure to finish Nothing∙ it is so, the jester has said, because one’s earlobes’ wax renders him inoperative to perceive the motion of the Everything: that, this analysand, is not finishing Nothing but attempts to start the Everything· such are the traditions of the death drive, absolute and further than the pleasure principle, because the Αρχή, that which an apologist may entitle as the Ethic, has not been sculpted: this subject attempts to furnish the Apeiron with a foundation, a creation, for only in that pencil case he would encompass the change to silhouette the brea-d-th of the Ethic: the Lung-uage is not static: neither imaginary, because identifications are condensations of the signifiers whilst painting the image∙ the language organ, of that reckless colorless green ideas, is truly a Lunguage Organ: and it is not the Phallus.

 

“The son of destruction, who opposes and exalts himself above every so-called god or religion, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, declaring himself to be God:” And because correctly the letter is placed, not in the rest of the object but to the Kinesis of that which is curtained by the object- the Act of desire and not its mere articulation: the act can only grasp the same geography of kinesis and the creation is the comportment by which the subject’s penitentiary is zeroed, for, that is the phenomenological of that which is named and envelopes the Ousia within the signifier sacrificing desire∙ and for such a creation, naming is not enough: naming is the shenanigan of a somnolent God whose object does not revisit the world with new questions from the Nirvana of his No-Body enjoyment· behold, for the articulation of a truth in psychoanalysis, one that does not involve the Act, is the bertha of that truth: desire cannot exist without the Act and the subject of the unconscious cannot exist without the verb.

 

“And I saw three foul spirits like frogs coming from the mouth of the dragon, from the mouth of the beast, and from the mouth of the false prophet:” and such, it is exemplified, because the cause and effect perfects the icon of the imaginary. and yet is a stasis: and, when the abyss ascribing the e-xpelled and hypothetical circumspection of the Other, be that of the object or the function of the other as the optic signification of the world, the subject’s desire is a donation from the Nirvana, which is the motion, of the scene to the world that is of the comic anecdote, laughing at the seven-heated beast, who is of an apocalypse but itself cannot reveal whatever thing, that, that moment is when the Antichrist of time, an embodiment of a Sadducee, bothers itself with the riddle of the chicken and the egg, a true evil to the synchronicity of life and of the Letter- an unfaithful of a malevolence natural history who secretly believes in the order of time and morasses, that, for one to become an analyst something from his ancient times’ experience ought to be the cause of this effect: a foolhardy impostor by all means∙ and, the impostor cannot hear that the scripture’s letters, enclosed within the signifiers, voice that no good has ever came from those whose ethic is imaginary- phallic in its nature- insisting that for an analyst there ought to be something from his past experience and signifiers excusing and answering the why this subject wants to practice psychoanalysis: these hypocrites who are not even actors, who errand an idyllic romance for psychoanalysis, themselves finding irresistible the signifiers of industrializing Freud, judge their reliance to the One analyst whose symptom becomes an principle- that is not how the supplication functions, neither sublimation, and undoubtedly the doorstep of the act has put up chains for them· they are not proficient of passing through the ‘I’ of the need-le: Again, I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God– for, this is the Antichrist of time with a cause and effect- no Freudian: it is not something but Everything in ones’ experience because the Sinthome derives not ex nihilo neither from a point that is a sign, but ex Apeiron- from an Ex-Ascesis∙ and, regarding time, we could say somehting funny about synchronicity without cause and effect because the drive’s object becomes a source: and for that, a subject needs honesty: but the impostors cannot accept it, as they are in search to create a sort of a sacred game.

 

“And the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur, where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever:” and let us not write about impetration but of interpretation: that which ought not to serve the military service of a quarantine to the points of Kinesis∙ it is then, and only then, that we can articulate that the era of interpretation is over- if the Kinesis has becomes static- for it is not the drive that moves through the signifiers of a discourse, itself stabilized within and surrounded by the signifiers’ repetition, but the object, since the Voice and the spell, and the disability to not-not named the Ousia because a named Ousia becomes a god or an Orgone and then detached from the world by staging a scene of its own, a Disavowal of responsibility and a castle of enjoyment: privation’s venture cannot cope with the Alien but with the Other or the Same: thus the harmony of the spell is encountered by the science of Poetry and not the art of science, for, the returned of the repressed is the voice of desire and the ethic of the real: the real is the ethic: from the spell of language to the voice of lung-uage, given that the Άρχομαι του Λογου is a question: what is the purpose of the repressed ethic of my breathing speech, of the Lunguage of the Letter, the object cause, and the Breath- one should never name God but the Ethic: I desire, therefore I Act- definitely Acta non Verba.

On the Pilgrimages of Psychoanalysts

To a God that is unconscious: not προσκύνησις but pros-kinesis, a towards the motion that is desire and not stasis, from the name to the letter and the transliteration of the contrivances of desire to which analysts’ bodies are dedicated so to domicile the legal residence of the signified subject’s purpose of speech, which is silence and not onomatodoxy, for, to create one does not need the name∙ and the orientation of silence is the act, in particular, because the subject has spoken: the Lernean hydra of the signifier, cut and scanned, simulacrum of the repressed desire’s mimeograph and the symptom’s elevation on its square power, which is not mathematical and in the schematic resolution of the circle- that, that which is repeated and shapes the subject’s periphery: that is not to say that psychoanalysis is a contemplative orientation, for, the letter is without a father and never repressed, a-pparently: the idiosyncratic ways of the psychoanalysts, those of peregrines, not of the Other, nor the Same, but of the Alien- that which has come from afar and zoomed in, because it has no body, the Ousia, which is a breath, a letter, and an object- that which causes desire because of its ways articulating the aim of the drive and the itineraria from the signifiers to the letters.

 

And, the subject has learnt the alphabet, one that is never the equivalent to an epithet’s geographical formula and only to that which coruscationises the vernacular ethics: intended for, it is perversions that divulge the approach to the signifiers and the letter- be that of their kinesis-  and not psychosis, because, the flight on the letter has  been actually a within, an entering to that which is monument only in the sense of its plasmatic appearance: psychoanalysis is contained into the letter only if it becomes breath, dueled and practiced from the signifier to the letter and the direct experience of the object, that which caused desire and relocates the source of the drive: it starts from the No-Body but not with musicality, for, if it becomes a mantra then, as it has been said, it will do damage to the lugs, that, and those, lugs, and heart, which is only ethical and pendulates like desire: the drive is initiated once again when the orientation of the subject is nowhere to be found∙ it becomes, then, a body event, once again not eventuali-sing the body in this world∙ that is the result of those analysts who have never danced and are not acquainted with what is kinesis- with this it is urged to converse of the act of desire and not murmur it- such is the manner of the Pharisee, not of the Gentile nor the Alien, because the Letter and the Breath relate not to identification or disintendification but to that ember which orders itself to ride the death drive towards life: this is the Ergon: what is being: it is what Ethics will make it, for, this Logos does not reason God.

 

And, the devout delusion of the cut, that which the pious may parallax with Πλάνη, does not announce the letter- neither does it create spaces for that which supposed to be a mark on the speaking body, for a body is never of speech but spoken∙ one does practice the Syncope on the diaphones’ diphthongs: the Ascesis of Monophthongization is in the expanse for he who embodies the amulet of the communal, the nature of that phonetic organ which is of the marvelous as much as is of the signifier, heals the Gaze of flattery but does not compliment the manners to which desire formulates the upper dot, because it is Τέχνηand not Φύσις that bequeaths the tactile members of perpendicularising motion, to which the French verse libre shows its deference to both the structure and Poetics of novelty and love for the letters: and if analysts assent to the celebration of anxiety of how is it to be of this wet ground and life, be that in attendance with each mouthful of air, then, then they will be memorable with the assessment of the Being Silent, of that who is at work, and who knows that desire is not intervocalic and not without long vowels: the hunc locum of the Letter’s way is feminine and asexual: certainly not hysterical because within the signifiers the Real reveals its metathesis: and if there is a new analytic intervention, that ought to be foreshadowing: interpretation has been resurrected but analysts are inadequate to laugh with it∙ no less than Lazarus- that is a pilgrimage one has to embark on.

On the Liturgy of the Phallus

‘Ελοΐ Ελοΐ λιμά σαβαχθανί: and yet the Word is not forsaken with the relanguagement of the phallus to which the psychotic subject will inveterate its circumscription to the kinesis of a cause, for, the metric system of a position that has no oscillation and yet it is sexual cannot exist without its binary, mistaken that, that that which cannot be read has been nominated as such, because psychoanalysis has elapsed that those letters having no inscription are not read in the direction of the signifiers, better to murmur doxologized, but, in this displacement’s rhythm, they dimension their form-id-able cry from left to right and in negation to the antithesis of the antonym’s location when it eclipses the linearity of the graph of the signifier’s stasis within the structure∙ and, yes, and that as it has been perceived by the experience of the psychoanalyst’s savoir-faire with the limited devotion to the Organon, which is neither a phallus nor a penis, and who, that he in question, who does not version to recompense the nuisance to inaugurate the proverb’s new truth, once again, one by one, but as the Golden Ass of Apuleius, the asinus aureus that even saint Augustine has been concerned to remark, in his privacy he repeats it, reinventing the signifiers of the wheel: that is the begetting of the position of the supposed subject of idiotic knowledge, surely with the phallus and certainly delicate: it is that which indeed can have the sexual characteristics of time without a phallus∙ and, to this sorrowful conception of a language of a Subject articulating a desire but does not act on it, because the juggler in the king’s temple has avowed that not much can be articulated about desire, even less to act upon it, resulting in an ideal of a speaking subject castrated of its verb afar from the ErgOn, one in the forms of many elevating Rasputin’s fame to that which only the queen knew, to which the Freudian dream would laugh at the false mystery of the statement, that interpretation is dead: for, if the mystery of interpretation has been indemnified, it is because psychoanalysts have been trans-muted into barbarians, foreigners to these new languages and narrative alphabets, for, themselves and their practice is Alien to the real world, with many cured subjects and very few analysts: the letter’s own voice demands that a terrible ear grasp its paradoxical shape, which is flux: this is the Aether allowing to, to he who has no Other to become paranoid∙ on behalf of the issue at hand not been misidentification and neither dis-identification as the body is but a runic transliteration to which desire is dedicated to the altar of the flesh, in perpendicular position but not motion, one to be originated with the blade of the Act for the reason that the knot of a Gordian nature requests to be scarified, when the psychoanalyst can allow his own body to remain on the chair so to introduce the threshold of Λόγος, which is kinesis, perpendicular and not horizontal that is the passage of the signifier: the act in the letter is that which frees those letters and whose sound do not tinkle like feathers the psychoanalyst impressionability because he does not permit to the irony of the voice to shape the activity of the letters, from left to right like numbers, always backwards and chained into the syllabic propositions of the consonant· the Ousia is not an after nor a before, for it is not timed, but harmony equal to the proportion of the modulor and the body inscription of diphthongs, whose union establish that homo-gene-ity which is of the word embodied and from whose faith the signifier is personified: κα λόγος σρξ γένετο: but never the πνεμα: that, that which is a letter destined to breath and not to breed the Same, like the signifier.

 

And he who has a barbarian essence and spells an echo according to the understanding of a structure and not of the diver-a-gency of the alphabet, holding that scepter which is masculine and supposedly further than a given sympathetic meaning, but, a representative of the sybaritic representation of the carnival of the phallus as an antidote to the phenomenology of the gaze, where, or, instead, he who is a diviner of the Logos knows that the apparitions are spelled out by the Voice to this pompe of the signification of the subject of the unconscious, that- and this is what is forgotten because of psychoanalysts’ admiration of the phallus- cannot exist without a Verb: a fecundity sacrament, not of Desiraction and a devouring commemoration of another Tre Ore along the theme of life yet never part of it, reverberating and not verbifying, the trauma of the signifier’s skeleton∙ and, the sibylline depended clauses utter that an object within a cause, that which causes desire, will do better than the phallus, only that the liturgy of Freud’s and Lacan’s signifiers’ as they have been conceived, not through a parthenogenesis but through the sexual position of been or having of the priest, and not of Act and cause, are too much adored from he who still thinks that can have sex with a woman∙ and, because the source, that, that which is inhuman and not bodily, is a circle without a corner to rest, akin to a language and spoken in a parapraxis of desire as a purpose of its speech: and, lo and behold- there, there the Thing tinted lenses its first creation: that which is Lazarus: he who has lived again without the phallus∙ and, in terms of a hypostasis, relating to one Ousia- my dear friend, it is just the configuration of this statement in a different order, for, it is three Ousies and one hypostasis∙ one does not negotiate desire: there are a few letters in the poem put together and produce this famous Act, a signature itself written by your being and that infamous Freudian body∙ for, the inter-cession of the Letter is the principle by which the breath lends a hand and conducts supporters of the Cause who search with a reconciliation with the breath, which is desire: no signifier can mark the body during inhalation.

 

And if we know how to request kindly a question to en-grave a few words, just to smell the oxygen of an empty space, it would have been related to the Freudian construction in terms of the breath: what is actually been constructed if the practice is beyond the father∙ certainly this construction is not the liturgy of the phallus.