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 Transliteration of the Psychoanalyst.

The being is not an emblematic tautology whispering that the being is being: that it is antecedented by the sophist or the polemicist whose most private member has been replaced by a pansophy, not much of a different organ, when, still, the object of copulation is the woman to be reduced to a rib taken from a man∙ the being is a cause, when the Das Ding be-comes a Das Being, a command of desire to Be a cause, be-cause the signifier is repressed but not the Letter: this is the enumerating prayer that is not numeric and not a Noumenon by which one knows how to use the Real.

 

Not, not the Act of speaking, neither that of the subject of speech, of the ποκείμενον– but from, not of, the Act who Speaks: that is not the speaking being of the been speaking, but the ErgOn whose vitality is not ornamentalised by the forename of the acting out founded on the What cannot be said nor upon that which has not been received or interpreted from the Other, but of an Acting because It is said: and, if an uninhabited dictionary entry would have been able to verbalize, or, at least to stutter its demand for a genesis of that godforsaken destitute received by the object, that would have been the definition of Saint Christopher the Dog whose being is without a theory of forms, an άσχημος, without a shape, as the intonation of the object ά moves beyond but not apart the schema, from the Entelechy to Entelexia, which marks the revelations of the Letter and the Ascesis of the psychoanalyst sourcing the transliteration of his desire∙ it is a mere flash of humor to take a huff from the Other of the Rosetta Stone and the transliteration of the hieroglyphs of a system, which is a metasis and not desire, since the letter scripting the afar of the ethics of a system’s coordination cannot assist the metousiosis of the Ascesis, one practiced with the analyst’s being, a Μεταγραφή of the proper orientation not of the treatment but of the analyst and fervently not in terms of transcription that is the way of the scribe, a servant of capitalism’s Ousia, who asserts that the ear of interpretation is dead whilst it is more alive than ever and simply he cannot interpret, implied one has the capacity of bathing within the expansion  of the Apeiron, the Real of the letter and not of the signifier and of the structure, and without a second thought, of the semiotic analytic position, a death drive of no motion and a daughter of an alphabet which is of Lepsius, not towards meaning and application from one to another, be that of signifiers or of meaning, but due to its use of diacritic marks: failed, would be those who attempt to read and not dance, upon letters who are not notes and thus they are breaths, macrons of vowels indicating the way of desire and speech, eventualising the subject for the Act- that of life.

 

And, from the cause, derives the exigentia, not the agency but the urgency’s writing on the flesh gambling on this exigency whose ink escapes repression: the signifier is repressed but not the letter, for, it breathes encapsulating the availability of a destiny, not that of an epitaph to whose chair the psychoanalyst sits comfortably like a caliph, but one whose testicular organs have been removed just to identify with a philosopher autocrat not allowing himself to be written, never irrigating the introspective that the unconscious is timeless but not space-less, because desire, within that which is an unadulterated creation yet not a parthenogenesis, is not a hamlet nor a locus, as much as that is designated by the signifier, but a direction into the abysmal and unmethodical Aether, of the substance interweaving with the registers∙ the Aether is that which is not a number: not the agency but the Exigency of the Letter, emanating not in space and not on a body’s periphery, whose pursue is to be articulated within a material that in inhuman- and how difficult is it to bear the gymnastics of a discourse that clamors for the risorgimento of interpretation, which cannot be dead because the analyst’s voice is not taken into account, since it reduces the interventions to a “What shall happen now∙” it is not what, a So what, “What will happen now”- but a “What are you going to do”∙ for, the Aether is not the Other while the macros intervene upon those Diphthongs with a cut∙ that would have been more wise for the philosopher who cannot produce an Act for the reason that he states that there are only two Acts in psychoanalysis, what a simpleton, to name it a Laceration– the letter does not appear when the signifier is cut, but another signifier∙ and yet, because Lernaean Hydra’s head is reproduced and expands when Herculean hands axe one head, we ought to laugh with the disciple of truth, who would have known that what is been cut needs to be cauterized: that is a definite stain upon a body, ligatures that life’s discourse itself seethes on what it could have been a formation not based on Nomina Sacra, as these sacred names are letters not bent through the desire of the Subject: and those do need an Act to condense the vinculum’s sexual attraction upon the letter and meaning.

 

The Ethic, which is a Breath, not that poisonous commencing from Hydra’s mouth as the myth has it, does not require a Father but a drive to be driven by the source and not its object- not in a lunate proposal where the letter would be a mere representation of a signifier but through the kinesis of what the σίγμα within the scheme of a proper name’s fermentation agents is testifying at the crossroad of Arete and Kakia, where the signifier becomes a sacred letter and the subject identifies with the grammar of the master, not its discourse: both embodiments are women and the letter is beyond the Woman, for, it is not a dedication∙ and, when this latter identification occurs, there is no bar or vinculum, but the tilde who aims, not a ‘that’ aims, at the new apocatastatic use, though to deal with the same Ousia that has been ex-communicated to the function of cacophonising desire∙ for, the psychoanalyst is called to read not, not the acting out, but the circumflex in the foreshadowing of the mathematical con-text’s alleviation reducing the Letter into a number, thus transforming its utility, and, hence, resulting to what Julian the Apostate’s chirography has probed by vilipending the divination of Λόγος from the carcass, to “Recite a prayer to a corpse”∙ a transmission from the animal to the animal, and not to the human, an illness of the breath in Proteus’ motion: that is why it is said that interpretation is dead, because of the name day of that corpse who cannot interpret by transliterating the Letter to desire: Abecedarium Stasis.

The Apocalyptic Act: Part 1- From the “A Being Silent.”

If, in and within the grey, almost black, foundation, which cannot subsist without an end, there is the deed, then meaning and use are derivatives of motion and time; though, one spectacular devil’s advocate, paid enough to do his job, may speculate of what sort is the motion contemplated since it is not a motion of biology – but one where the tunes and frequencies of the object, as much as those melodious notes of feminine jouissance, are the kinematics beyond meaning, beyond use- and yet again, it is not a utilization of the jouissance, for it is not permissible to consider what a subject enjoys, not only the social animal that reduces the Other into the other person, without considering that the conception of the Other ensues interpretations between sessions despite the truth that it could happened in the mind of the analyst, but also of that ascetic figure who enjoys like a lady.

 

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

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.