On the Sublimation of the Feminine Object

Within the structure there cannot be sublimation or an Act; Sublimierung is the kinesis when the object is ostracized to corral the place of the Thing, not of the letters of the patronymic name of the father and the antipodal of the second life but of the signature of the autograph of one’s’ Acts- we will not perorate of Lazarus’ legend once again: lo and behold of the thieves of the cross and perceptibly of those who have elopemented it, and, who, who could have been with the effortlessness by which a few representatives of flattery of Irish ancestry, prophets of Docetism, of those who stated with the moronic certainty of the devil that there are only two types of Acts; this retorting scientists of a Freudian praxis away and far away from life but nearer to those truths that are of intellectualism and of phrenic cowardice: there have been patients, but not analysts because the sublimation is of those objects that are masculine, quantitative in terms of the drive and the metages that are of the phallus- the real phallus is the cause because psychoanalysis is a practise of life, declared on the soil that stinks of a living Breath: lo and behold of the analysts who have never surpassed their own anxieties- lo and behold of the analysts who cure but create not the possibilities for novel formations unless those fall under the dimensional geography of the master- they have forgotten that they never ought to be lacking in zeal because they are doomed to be desiring subjects, and keep their spiritual fervour, serving the cause- until they die, not because they seek to live: life cannot be but the Verbification of the Subject of the Unconscious: this is the obol of the analysts.


There cannot be a real sublimation unless the object is feminine: it is at this summit of gentle holiness and loneliness that the object becomes a cause writting signifiers from letters owning nothing to jouissance but dedication to desire, for, in its empire of sublimation- drive, satisfaction that “Does not ask anything from Anyone” takes one and hopefully many away from the spells of the Other, to that infamous Being Silent who knows the ways of the Letters’ kinesis, and who cannot only read the breath like the Yogis but can actually write on its plasmatic courses and love manners: for, it is not enough to have the imaginary, or even symbolic metamorphoses of the drive- it has never been enough unless psychoanalysts have given the same oath, that is to manipulate the signifier who manipulates and the subject shifts its place in the same fundamental fantasy- this is enough for a cure but never enough, and it has never been enough, to format the pilgrimage towards the formation of analysts, where Paranoia and Pronoia, and by these I mean faith that the modern psychiatry has classified as aspects of psychosis- faith is an illness especially if it is cored on the Act of a glorious leader who can cause desire: Metousiosis is the means to the dark domains of each cause, for, the Ουσία nurtures the feminine object; and if there have been three emissions of analysts, one towards the cure, the second towards the truth, with the magnificent talents of Lacan and Bion, then there is another one that is towards the Act- certainly not for those who are fainthearted: “I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead,” because they are deeds and not Acts.


And to the knowing what to do with the oral object, that represents the impossibility of the identifications of the signifier to establish the hunger of love, a love that does not need the erogenous zones as Lacan clearly states in the Knowledge of the Psychoanalyst seminar, here are marked the words to the angel: “To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The Amen, the faithful and true Witness, the Beginning of the creation of God, says this: ‘I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot, but because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of  My mouth.”


But dear Lord, the Breath cannot be spilled, for it is that which moves and loves the Lunguage- the Πνοή του Λόγου.

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.

On the Kinesis of the Unconscious.

Regnabo, Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno: the letter is Empirical- it is EmpiReal: there is no silence to the drive, unless one cannot hear very well- a true gift for an analyst to grasp the double image of the object whose binary functions can either orient to desire or to jouissance, which is not alone and not mystical,  but with the company of the Other: and because the tachyon, that letter carrying the lights and the letter’s own voice, truly beyond the enlightenment of the imaginary and the image, onto this moving target that moves towards the Βίος of the Heraclitean bow and not in elliptic paradoxes, what is the place of activity of a Cause of desire, which is not a position, is the identification with the object, that which causes desire, not the symptom∙ that my dear unfaithful Thomas, trapped into the circle and the repetition of a meaning yet with the explanations of the Other, locates the kinesis of the unconscious onto the source of the drive and not its tip.


And when the object itself  and not its gloominess con-courses the subject, it is not from the phallus that one offers the gift of belief  to an axiom of language, but to the letter that is unparticular inflowing the realm that it is not even uncanny, an EmpyReal to which many an analyst shall be converted into the scale invariant to what can be playacted by a monotonous and not less banausic mouth, that estuary of air of the he who is to speak of ontology with its counterpart, which is deontology, as ethic: and, yet, the candor of the practice is not even that, for, it is a scale invariant without momentum and mass to whose attribute, he, who is the leader of the Arian tribe, shall plead guilty about its musicality, when, in fact himself does not know how to play the piano with the phalanges of the handyman- for intellectuality cannot not offer the prerequisites of the act upon life, which is not a given but can be a creative prosopopoeia, a plasma on its own right, not the subject solicituded within and around the structure.


And, if the feet which stand upon a ground dehumidifying an apotheosis, relying to the calumniatory question of sarcasm, of the Where do I start, themselves depict that this deportment of perambulation begins from the matters which are issues of the earth, from that anything forms, debarring that first breath and the Plasmatic appearance of the unconscious in its elemental states of corporeality of a foaming at mouth journeying from the ionized violence of that which is limited by time∙ that is the Γράθμα where the double of the letter has melted at the tip of the tongue and the Γ has passed through the threshold of metousiosis and has been breathed into a Θ, and not  into the halacha of the Jewish law, whose articulation appears to be a letter, to which discourse offers a tube of air present to the scale invariance of the trinity of spatial symmetry, the subject’s reflection, interpretation and rotation: to these the Letter cannot move∙ semiosis and use but not be a Cause∙ and when the object changes positions within the discourse and the body, it is because the subject hides the Parousia of the breathing letters as the so called chameleon assumes the formula of a percolated scalar infinitesimal syllabary with a non-linear interaction to one another since it uses the signifier in resembling a dues ex machine and fools the analyst who thinks he hears very well when he tones his immaculate ear to grasp the harmony of the signifiers, in the same manner that the Ousia of the Aristotelian theories, has been conceived in the time that it was believed the earth was flat- not the Das Ding and neither the subject- leave aside the Ergon∙ and he who is a grand piano thespian, and certainly knows about notes and master signifiers, himself not a master, could have testified in a court of law that the values of the letters is the Niente when the diminuendo has finished, and to where the dark energy which is homousian to the Ousia but not to the breath, an entelechy including the psychoanalytic Act, passageways towards this Everything, which is not simply Real but Apeiron.


And here is the question, which is a true mystery, and not a surprise: how does the psychoanalyst intervene on a structure that is plasma? Ποταμοσι τοσιν ατοσιν μϐαίνουσιν, τερα κατερα δατα πιρρε∙ yes- it is true, but besides the Logos- which is what is unmoved and traps the ear of the analyst into a towards the No, and not towards the conduction of the troparion of the προς-ευχή: that is the orientation of the Kinesis towards desire and the answer to the enigma from where do I start.

On the Verbification of the Subject of the Unconscious.

The cadaver of the protoplast is born dead- it is not inbred out of desire but of the strength of the veto against it: one ought not to call this proscription C’est la Vie, but denial of the gerund of its essence∙ and then, the breath autographs the corpse with the letter, a first Ousia to punctuate the sibilant diphthongs of what at the beginning can be the Act, an Acta non verba from which the signifier shall contain the fundamental nature of the first averment’s inhalation asking the question, ‘how does the body of signifiers breathe’∙ this is the Oedipus’s dome’s entreaty, which, the analyst, will not ex-cogitate to recite, unless indeed the verge of free association is passed with his asomatic s-ex-instance, and twirling around akin to the letter of the river of a dervishing dance, whole but not holy, and, no less in flux than the letter, which is not flowing but locked into the dyspnea of a structure: that is an Ascesis and not an Act, and it could have been a memorial if this subject had not been breathed into the verbification, if only one really has faith to the process of in-activity and of the unconscious, not of the subject but of its transliteration that is a gerundus whose letter’ agency operates no less than a verb within a Cause∙ and, because the genes of the Ephesians hold the edifice dense, unyielding to the smother of a representation and a child of a discourse that cannot be but a re-semblance, as if it could include in the citation form’s liver the inhalation occupying the gracefulness of libido, of the lamella∙ for, it is dismal when it is said, sorrowfully, that psychoanalysis suffers because of capitalism and science: bring to a halt that silence of mastery and operate on a desire∙ aim at the Ergon and not so much at the being who cannot speak of its act, because, that which cannot be said requires an act∙ ears in pain have listened to those signifiers a few thousand times and cavities have been bored of that taste, for,  respect is not paid to those discontents that allowed psychoanalysis’ birth and existence, which are the equal to what they were when it was at first conceived by Freud: that Letter, which is psychoanalysis, and it is a kinesis that is prepositional- never a stasis.


And, the Ephesians speak and utter about context, and not about the declension where not the signifier but the letter is possessed by the signifier in a Semiosis and use, but not in motion, different situations and areas, of a geometrical land not oxygenized by what is a mark of punctuation, to ask and wonder about the Δασεία, with its own right an accurate pneumatic Ethos indeed – yet, the truth is that: if there is a resistance, it is on the side of the analyst, as much as it is at the side of psychoanalysis: you ought not to accept quoting what has been taught to you and, instead, brush your own words by learning the alphabet that the analysand is teaching you, unless you seek to be a master aiming at knowledge and not gnosis, which is a science unlike any other: and when you set up vowels, your voice ought to expose that desire, not aiming to those ears functioning as a gaze to your jouissance, deplorable witnesses and the leftover sperm of the Other, but, let us say, desiring that heart and breath, for, that formation which is like a language and cannot be prepared without punctuation allowing for breathing: and if Doxa, that which appears to you as an idea, for, your actions and jouissance cannot speak differently, leads your way, in a manner worse than that of Docetism, which, still without the actual image of an image, though of fantasy, is holding your object, better to think of Ἔνδοξα, that which includes each being’s Ergon, not the Act but the Ascesis, hopefully to devastate your own cave where psychoanalysis’ Gerousia, those old men of honor who know but cannot listen, recompense their obols so far not for pass-aging the river that is of fire, itself a threshold, fomenting strong beliefs in the idolum tribus of the orientation: Methuselah’s death drive, absolutely not Alien but of an Other or of the Same: the practice of the letter is avalent, where the voice, not the gaze that is of the subject of the signifier, refers to the verb of the unconscious- oh, certainly an object that is Real and not a veil- the Real of an Act that is to become Ascesis: such is the practice of the subpoena that transubstantiates itself upon the same Ousia yet not re-engraved.


And, from the subject, here, is untaught the verb, letters and modicums of the Das Ding, of the corpo-real that is Ethical of a Kinesis and not of a location, full of life, participles diving into a register that is Apeiron∙ and, because many will travel and knowledge will be increased- such says Daniel: that is actually the issue at hand: knowledge will be increased, knowledge, this solidness which cannot be transmitted, and not desire roaring both, both for an Act and faith to the ethic that is Real- it strains and outcries about the Ascesis, which is not an Act: the agony of psychoanalysis requests more Herodotus and less Thucydides∙ and, if you have the sense of hearing that idiotic colorless green ideas sleeping furiously- what a miraculous deed, in-deed: you have just caught the subject’s breath beyond meaning and structure itself: the Verbification of the subject of the unconscious- this is what it is to practice with the letter∙ it is heavy, too heavy of a mouthful of air for your jouissance to listen to- and that is why you prefer death: since Freud, psychoanalysis searches for the unconscious knowledge with the hope of a transmission- oh, certainly: that is the problem- a knowledge that can be transmitted∙ and to approach the letter with the cut, to scan and produce meaning with supplementary exploit within a coordination where analysts canister to observe from afar and become technicians and not activists, and yet, the voice, the voice of he who is supposed to create speaks not and unquestionably hears not of the diaeresis of the letter, of the diphthongs that are not holophrastic, that Επιφώνημα and the punctuation vocalizing its iambic desire∙ for, a transmission there ought to, at first, be the occurrence of the tongues of the Pentecost, not knowledge∙ where, capitalism and science do not function as the Other of psychoanalysis, an Other from which we are not alone to assume the responsibility of our own Acts, for, those can only be Acts of desire∙ it paralyses and stagnates psychoanalysis from assuming its own responsibility for why it does not cause desire within civilization, and why this cool heavenly breaze, that breath not of the holy spirit, torpedoes the subject’s nasal droplets in the same manner that infirmities are transmitted and not desire∙ and listen, and think- if this is the case, then there is an impressive something, an imperative, for us analysts to mumble- unless our blameworthiness is too accurate on this devotion to the Other of capitalism, which is not a discourse but an Ousia from whose anathematic cloning discourses are twisted, one substance that we may call AnOusia because its dark matter and dark energy is ordained  to plasmapheresis, precisely to subtract the Being, the, not need from the demand but desire: and what can we susurrate among thieves about the subject supposed to know if the so-called position of the analyst is not actually a position but  a motion, a kinesis- and this may come along the enigma and statement that the letter designates destiny and the signifier time∙ and thus repetition is deficient from that which desires and from that that which causes it: surely the Agalma is not kinesis, but a solid, too solid of a structure even for Pygmalion to revolve into a woman: how does this transference of leprosy become a breath, if not by the testimony of the I am willing, Be clean, See that you do not tell anyone, But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.


And the newsmonger who actually reads The Purloined Letter and produces diatonic contexts to the panegyric assembly of the signifiers, may use the κτώηχος to cantillate the divertimento of Letters, that, that this is how the Subject of the unconscious is Verbificated.

On the Ousia that is Feminine but not of a Woman.

And, from the lo and behold of a proposition which is not the result of a psaltery’s pseudepigraphic composition within and beyond the threshold of the Act demanding not of the wisdom of Solomon but of the reception of “The key to the world in the split of the prepubescent, the psychoanalyst no longer has to expect a look, but sees himself become a voice∙” and from that Voice, powders the first Ανάγκη and yet not in particles∙ and, that is not discourse- it is a breath and a letter, unparticular and not in particles, from which the discourse and the Voice mark the lamina of destiny and time upon the subject and its flesh to embody the word and the signifier∙ those are Homoousian to the Das Ding, the Letters, the Breath and that which causes desire but itself cannot desire unless privated and ex-posed at the same time to the gnosis of holiness and carnal acquaintances for that which is sup-positional to prevail in immaculation, not emasculation, and, from whose kernel shall a homo-ousia that is not a man, produce the digammon Stigma to become the episemon six within the signifier, for the letter becomes a number, and from the mark is fashioned sex: this is a riddle∙ for, the question to mark the tantalized nerves of a psychoanalyst’s transference to the Cause is, not what is a woman, or, what does she want, but, what is not a man: what does not have a phallus but is not a woman, and not an object with No-Body, a being which, in its silence, even among the spectrum of the perversion of perversions, one cannot copulate with and breed devils∙ to this, the various generations of analysts ought to give us a testimony.



The Psychoanalytic Act: On the Formation of the No-Body.

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.

On the Breath of the Das Ding.

And, from the hither, that here cognominated by those libidinous syllables and letters spelling the analysand’s Apraxia, that, that which traps the analyst in his own disposition unable to animate the eupnea’s formation, a breath that desires and the pulsating heart of the Das Ding, which is a breath, a letter and the allelomorphic cough of the cause’s representative, that is, that which causes desire, analysts are decomposed by accumulating freely the alphabet∙ and yet, and hopefully then, the parallelogramic equation of the analyst’s kinesis within this Act functioning as a plasma, a matter equipoising a mystery of ensarkosis without a first cause, can have some intimate thoughts about, not poetry alone but Allopoiesis, since, and along these unfathomable vernaculars, a systematic phenomenology of the Other becomes Alien because the system produces an account different from the system itself∙ and when then Gentile, he who becomes more feminine in spelling and less masculine in the system of the signifier’s gnosis within the structure of the Other and enters time itself with precision, because, as an object cause it moves in the vicinity of the arrow supposed to strike it, and carries into the open a blaspheme to the ears of the messengers who have become agronomists of the bad seed, the desire in the dream seeks instead of the analyst seeking the symbol: for that, the direction of a formation is from the Logos to the Myth because sexual relationship cannot do without it, without that magical realism to whom Herodotus has been more faithful than Thucydides- a myth of xenoglossy for him, that analyst, who is afraid to encounter the infamous vagina dentate because he still holds his practice from his penis: it is he, who produces the blastheme because he is not causing any agrammatism to Lacan’s own signifiers, but becomes a true teacher- a Pythia who interprets by herself: that is a vagina dentate, without a doubt.



The Psychoanalytic Act: On the Formation of the No-Body.

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.

The Speaking Being is a Disorder of Silence.

The voice is the timing of the ethics of the breath, the only object one cannot negotiate; the ether, the other side of Libido, and the Breath in synchronicity operate as Ω-ther way to deal with the real- beyond the structure: subjects could testify on this, if they were able to speak of the letter’s nano-particles- the Breath is a taste of the Apeiron, that is what makes it oral.


The Psychoanalytic Act: On the Formation of the No-Body.

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.