On the Metonymy of the Psychoanalyst and the Carmen Figuratum.

And they have crafted with bare hands and tools, mumbling and whispering within the shades provided by the roof and the Hellenic colons of their temples, a direction to deal with life that was death itself, thinking that, that this is what has been gifted to us by the conception of the dimension of the Unconscious and of the marvelous Death Drive- and they have as their motto: Be thou faithful unto Death and I will give you a crown of life- such a proclivity about a cause of death to bring forth a supposed life proscribes to fathom the vital rumbling exegesis that the Kireji words in the Japanese discourse can be transmitted and can hominify their mist as punctuation marks: oh, but this is closer to Lunguage, the Πνοή του Λογού, claimed someone who, until this very moment everyone suspected that he was asleep.

Themselves should have been vomited those who seek to vomit, those who have been nominated as analysts by the demands of their analysands -by a desire that multiplies the fishes to feed more than five thousands- but instead they urge for further analysis to satisfy the cloning of themselves, whilst most of their sons and daughters cannot even set themselves as points of orientation unless within what can be accommodated as scholastic or as ill: desire however they cause not because they have never had access to Onomatopoeia, but only to repeating and bubbling an intelectuality and supporting a Paraclausithyron subtracted from its lover and thus sustained only by the substance of jouissance, of crying outside the object’s door, thinking that this is a magnanimous parallel to desire: and she, she that once has been friends with wolves without realizing that herself was a scavenger and most of the times a killer of desire, has revealed a secret which has been a shared truth among those who have been building statues to the Gods of simpletons, that desire is a defense to the Real, without even passing from their sacred heads that the statement alone brings Freudian psychoanalysis to a stage before Lacan.

And they have redeem the proud in spirit and those who have identified with a know how, some of those flatterers who seek like rats the power of the gaze within institutionalized paranoias instead of establishing themselves as points of reference within civilizations and cultures, and therefore they reduce the function of an organization to what it is not in relation to desire, have not even dreamt of, that in psychoses the subject dedicates its flesh to the carmen figuratum because it forms a structure with the embodied Other from the place of the object, and that this minimum structure allows for a body within a poetic melancholy and a slight paranoiac jouissance that the Other is to blame: and yet again here the suffering subject enjoys a body: and that my dear, you that you have once and plethora argued that this is the Desire of the Other- the greatest of the greatest jokes if one has actually had at least a portion of the Breath of what is this Ουσία present as a Verb and not as a Subject, that Ergon- the Desire of the Other that the Hysteric seeks has nothing to do with Desire but, very clearly, it is the very place of the object in the topology of the jouissance of the Other. And thus for the blind man to see and for the deaf woman to hear, to pursue the adventure of life and desire, the creativity of the psychoanalysts is asked, for, they will place themselves not in relation to the diagnosis of hysteria but in relation to the Figures of Speech.

On the of Nativity of Astrophic Constructions.

And the sorrowful eyes of those priests who have obtained scrupulous pride in fashioning language in levels and structures where the Παρουσία of desire is impossible, lovers of Bildungsroman, and, because they have faith in death and enjoy the trauma they orient lexicons and language towards immortality, those Les immortels, who should have known that between two Acts one ought to produce music, and yet again one ought to know how to write to achieve such an honor: the French should have known that with the beauty of their rhythmic Entr’acte– that psychoanalysts could have become great condACTors in facilitating spaces of motion for that speaking body that does not Act and therefore remains in melancholia and the complaining of Apraxia- a way to live a life, truth be told, if one chooses, but desire and its meditative dimension will not be there; a father my dear friend is not castrated in hysteria according to the rules of the structure but according to Desire to which he has to function as its guardian: it is then that the daughter is attracted to become more man than a man, a masculine subject always in relation to the reference that the father is not enough, according to a cultural model crafted on the horrifically talented mirror, and she searches for the phallus, that is, when the father is incapable to desire, as he has submitted his desire within the topology of the ideal that he serves now under an oath, the daughter attempts to frame a venerable picture of an imaginary father, who is not a father after all, for he fails to orient movement but static images.

And the angel of the Lord God, a terrific seraphim with dark eyes, has given a chance to the simpleton of simpletons who was the ruler of the Ionians but functions nothing akin to a Greek for he knows not how to write and in fact he cannot even read; and He has given this second chance because He likes jokes although the kingdom of simpletons has long foreclosed laughter: if the father is castrated towards his own desire then the encounter with a given analyst who actually desires, shall create the presence of the One who is not castrated: of the man; so there are possibilities for the woman to exist in relation to that desire: the woman my dear simpleton can exist only around desire- it is here that the Other Jouissance can become a great tool for life; and there is a laughter not to miss here, provoked by the statement, because the equation is true for the man as well, unless they seek to wash the floors of the topologies within a jouissance of the Other, that which the lovers of Bildungsroman refuse to nominate as object in fear of disrupting the structure and thus their own place in relation to that structural reference: the Primal Father, now the assumed psychoanalysts who Act on their desire, one in plural, provides Kinesis- it is possible not within the phantasy, which is what the phallus and the Sinthome do, but only with the construction of another knot centipeding around the Act and not an object- this Primal Father who desires without an object allows for the creation of Astrophic constructions, plasmatic revelations of stanzas having no specific patterns and allocations.

On the Dithyrambs of Der Göttliche Hanswurst

And the divine buffoon could not laugh or, as the expression has it, with sound be in stitches, because he has encountered those funereal saints who enunciate about the drives within the topology of the Borromean Knot- that is worthy of a punctilious joke- and they say the saddest buffoonery of all: that without the drives there cannot be a body, forgetting most likely, or perhaps they are ignorant and thus they are forgiven like other crucifiers roaring in hatred Ἆρον ἆρον, σταύρωσον σταύρωσον αὐτόν, that there can be a new body, that of the Act where the Subject of the Unconscious becomes a Verb, it become an ErgOn, and that this is the ontology of the Ουσία, the substance of being that is not Jouissance because it is centralized not around the object but around the Act: it is the solution of the Subject that ought to give rhythmic caressing to an orientation- that which cannot be said is an Act. Beloved buffoon that you are not a fool for Christ- not to be confused: you ought to puzzle your sacred brain with how to laugh without been superior or inferior to the Other, for, that should have been a true Act, if you have ever believed to revelations that take over your body in the sessions, but, you do not, you do not because you lick the sudden glory of an identification with knowing and thus you are not crafting anything new; you can never be a shaman, not even a trickster.

And the buffoon has left them behind in their misery, he has heard Virgil’s advice to Dante, because the Death Drive is not an elliptical line but a topological function of space where the subject assumes the place of the object in the Other’s enjoyment, be that in various forms and Figures of Speech which, those practicing with the so called clinical structures, not only they are Foreclosing the possibilities of the Act but they are also not orienting the treatment towards the unique solution and to the creation of a No-Body- one that is truly and truly unique when it does not imply another position in relation to the same John now called Johny: yes the Sinthome is one solution but it is not in alignment with the Act, that which is a New Body; and they sacrifice the Παράκλητος, this apocalyptic creative topology because there is a failure in answering the question on how to situate the analyst in relation to the discourse if not according to the diagnosis of a clinical structure: we are too far, oh dear, too far from creating a new perversion.

And the divine buffoon got bored and went to meditate.

On the Quantum Mechanics of the Breath

From the abyss eluded a kind prophet, friendly and ceremonial and with an affectionate touch for the arts to which he served as procrastinator- oh my dear- good for the arts and newspapers but not a psychoanalyst; dear friend you are yet to experience a surface without holes because you are constrained in what is lacking and thus you can never be a fire fly within the mist and understand with your deepest gnosis that the Breath redeems one from responding to its name from a body conquered by language.

Have you not heard the gypsies who hissed the verse, that sublimation is a perversive and imaginary act, but not an Act, for, the subject becomes a source of desire perversing a structure that does not allow the children to play: it is the foreclosure of playing itself: it has been written when one has spoken to the many, that the instinct is not closer to the Das Ding but neither is Trieb, because the true source of Eros is the Breath- it is not erotogenous and does not genitise the Acts of Faith towards the Sinthome for it goes beyond the fantasy offered gracefully from the borromean knot and the Other; libido changes its prayers to its objects because those themselves change their habits as monks dedicated to a habit they do not own, and they do not and they can not own them because they are not one with them, but only become one through the wilderness of the identifications of the signifier and the mirror; monks, those in question could have been one with their Acts if they could have articulate them in writing with a body that sculpts Letters within the platform of the world, for, such could have only be the full speech of their desire: the return of the repressed waves away the priest from the oracle.

When desire marks the body who Acts, whose speech is an axe, eros find its source and it is not of the flesh: women should have been brave enough to support this testament; the act of faith is that which surpasses the laws of faith. We have not been able to create a new perversion because we were too scared to go beyond the body of Freud, but not beyond the subject breathing in the word; such a breath exists away from the binary; the act is towards the binary and exalts an object to an ideal: there is no sublimation but a breath because the Breath is a true speech where truth and Act are one for once but not for all. And how will you sustain your body if not by been one with your Act, one which will replace the ‘object a’ in the new knot, the glorious body of Christ that Lacan mentioned once- that new body which I have been writing a few years now, one that is centralized around an Act: for, one cannot be the object in its own fantasy my dear friend.

On Punctuating the Breath

Because they cannot spell a different orientation other than dualism, they have remained fixated on the traumatic and befriended paranoia- and thus they misspell Desire for jouissance according to the Other.

And in all his glory and knowledge, the exalted abecedary of topology was wrong along with his beloved Aristotle, for, constant change is not a matter to conflict with arguments in a generic manner as Aristotle did, that is, to philosophize on it outside of its context and set it within a supposed bastardized topology, but to specify its context that can only be the ethic of life which creates: in this case the formation of analysts: can this formation be supported by anything else other than constant change: τὰ πάντα ῥεῖ, and how does this movement called formation can be stopped, if itself is a source of a living desire? How can desire stop, and how can a breath stop when it is the repressed kinesis, that which was subtracted for the sake of the static, the infamous mirror, who knows not about desire? Desire said the Lord God functions not on the principles of Aristotle but on the τὰ πάντα ῥεῖ. 

And that is why the Pharisaic crow has spitted pitifully a few sentences to the priests of Gahanna that at the end, and after all, Lunguage is beyond the threshold of the Aristotelean organon- that beautiful Πνοή του Λόγου, for, those beasts who have the decency of hearing and also process some amount of random kindness shall be able to sniff from their cages what Heraclitus has sang to us, that the logic is not the organon through which the subject discovers the world and not even the signifiers and the object- one ought to create a world: in the similar manner one ought to wonder in his fearless sleep To which Act my Breath and my Desire correspondent, and not to which parts of my history and language does my symptom fit.

And to wonder means to wonder and not to wonder like the Golden Ass, whose intemperate prying for magic and not his desire has let to a metamorphosis, from the speaking being to the braying being. A note indeed of musical donkeyness for those who, although claiming to have access to desire, behave like widows murmuring condolences to their lost sexuality, teaching the students to protect the ego or commemorating like proper vicious masters that It is to early for such an intervention as if there is a proper template for what circumstances the session or life will bring forth; they seek to establish, they say, a strong bond, a relationship with the patient, who actually becomes a patient under them, a relationship that will hold when the powerful insights arise, yet, they have no idea despite some of them been Lacanians that a relationship is strong because of desire: I feel pity for their spouses because they enjoy the traumatic too much, certainly more than what they enjoy the Act: they know not that the unconscious, the unbewusste, is not to be negotiated in the fathoms between organism and environment or Subject and Other- but between Act and Apraxia.

And yet again the Lord God responded to the faces of misery and arrogance, and himself sang to them that the death drive appears in the clinic later on and stronger, when the act is in process and it stays, to puzzle the glorious analyst: it will puzzle them because the analysts are resistant to the Act, they are allergic; Freud’s death drive has to do with the re-appearance and the complain of the symptoms: he has created a few dozen of masters to which the analysands reacted, for the master knows not the ways of the Act because he faiths the structure: They want to return to the inorganic because they know not how to Act- the seek death for they do not understand life: the punctuation of the breath is about that Act that is not only at the level of nomination and the use of the phallus- but an act which constructs a New-Body; a new atheism if you prefer- one that the pharisees will not perceive because it requires the drop of the Other as everything, even though the Borromean knot is not capable of revealing the ways of desire and especially this new body because it is centralized around an object and not an Act.

On the Foreclosure of the Act: the New Unconscious.

The Κήρυγμα of a not war, of an Act without the Other that is foreign to desire, that which it is neither received nor understood by the arrogant princes of intellect; and it is perceived as wild because it would have been difficult to construct a given geography without tools that are given before hand by those who have reached and received knowledge from the domain of shadows- thus the way of necromantic paranoia is preferable than that of the quixotic mystic who has to read and be written according to the Figures of Speech.

The sons of the whore of Babylon will never speak English, for, they are happily arrogant within the beautiful truth of their fantasy- that there is no God; and because of this they will never seek, never find, or never read and certainly not write that which is supposed to be transmitted from one body to the other when psychoanalysts are formed: interpretation ought to fruitage magnificently the signifier of a new Act when it comes to analysis, no less than when it comes to life because they are one; and yet those arrogant martyrs of boredom, whose books and language- and rotten faith- have no idea that the first interpretation is the point of orientation in the form of a topology where the subject will place his body and faith, one that ought to contextualize and to create a love affair- call it a fuck if you wish- on What is psychoanalysis for that specific subject. But to do so, one must at first get rid of the “sacred cloak” of psychoanalyst.

And under the veil of a dead man’s wish in Hades, once a king and a great warrior, to be alive and exist as the slave of the slave on earth, a pale movement apparatus comes forth with a grimace ironizing the leader of the sons of whores, murmuring and whispering to their ears What an amazing Other of the Other is created here with this so called metonymy because there is no body!

The Act is the metalanguage. Such whispered further the mumbling king: the phallus is not a cut after all, but a small topology within the topology of the knot that allows movement and certain space from the Voice: the speaking body cannot be today’s unconscious- today’s unconscious is a God that does not Act. It is Apraxia my dear friend that has been elevated along with vomitus speaking as the new bodies, bodies that speak but do nothing; the whore has been giving birth to sons that foreclose “work” and the “Act,” who are flatterers of the intellect and praise psychoanalysts who, since they gave an oath to Atheism that became the new image of their Mammon, their only direction is paranoia: for, it is paranoia or desire. Boring- too boring- the diagnosis of a structure in order to find the place of the analyst: this is what disables the possibilities of the Act, but very few women would dare to say to their magnanimous spouses that his acrobatics and techniques are worthy of a circus and not for love making: they will not dare, those women analysts, because themselves seek to become men: what forbids the No-Body is this phallus my friend.