Archive - The Act

On the Foreclosure of the Act: the New Unconscious.

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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.

On the Oath of Psychoanalysts

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A new Atheism: a God who exists, all-powerfully speaks, but cannot Act.

Alef lsk min: for the one who is all merciful but can never act as one, because his desire has never acquired a body and has remained to the fathoms of articulation- it does however receive an organism from time to time and that is why he is commanded by the Other’s jouissance; but desire refers not to that one, no, certainly not to the object Breath for it is formless and that is why is has to be given substance by the Act- not to that one, I was saying, but the one who is zero, and yet we have discovered that the letter becomes one with the Subject, that fearful Κίνησης, when the truth and the Act are one. Amen.

Alef isk min: and the beautiful berse goes, that the Greeks lost but they will win; and they will win because of their faith: they know, those who can write with the πνεύματα, that the One is reincarnated in the drive, in repetition, in the same and the Other all of which are reincarnations within a set but not reinventing of a unique Act and of a Breath that signs the motion- it is the drive that assists the One to emerge from the emptiness but we should have operated desire and the act within the unknown. It is where the death drive becomes your vehicle beyond Νόησης, beyond the final borders of the body and of paranoia that is, after all, a defense to the possibility of uniqueness and oneness of the Truth with its Act- a possibility for the psychoanalyst to receive an awakening and not paranoia if he is bold enough to hold the devil by the horns: every daredevil ought to venerate the Cardinal of monads and establish a few square centimeters of faith to the canon of the emptiness of the One because the one emerging reiterates desire: it is written but not read that “A number to the power of zero is always One,” but a letter, aleph, at the power of zero is the Act: the square root of desire is the act- I have said that before. And to venerate Heraclitus we have to commemorate that the War, the father of all, the infamous Πόλεμος, is not the fighting of the one who is trapped within the drive and the topology of the Other’s knot, but it is the “I separate and I create,” and within this I become the Act where the object was: for, I cannot be an object in the topology of my desire but only its Act. This is the New-Body, the πνευματικόν σώμα, that which Lacan referred to on that day as the resurrected body of Christ. Amen.

On the Sublimation of the Feminine Object

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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

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‘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: καὶὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο: but never the πνεῦμα: 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.

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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 ὑποκείμενον– 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.

On the Breath of the Das Ding.

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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.

On the Faith of Psychoanalysts: a Cause of Desire, which is a Cause.

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The signifier is acrostic to the Letter’s Ousia- not homoousian: it is the Summa Theologica of the Epistula Purloined: and it can be that, because the Act is autonomous, as much as the master signifiers designating the trauma and its destiny, wreathing, and not breathing, with all the musicality of its arias ∙ that faith is indeed the praxis of the subject, an Alien Act to the binary of idolatry of the One and or the Other, not of the Agalma– certainly not that of Pygmalion, whose The Woman has been exteriorized through, and by, a marble stature, a procedure in opposition to that of Orpheus’ and Lot’s faith, with the subsequent man having his name signifying the veil in Hebrew, a veil he did not use because he subtracted his own faith ∙ idolographical, that is a much better of a word for an epistolary poet who has not yet written, not yet, for, the principle is that of desire, a motion in itself and not bound in the ethics of philosophy as it is that which binds an ethic. And, if the Πίστις of the Greeks, with a small object cause of desire in its front, just a small letter α, so to turn the word α-πίστις, and terracing faith to the object cause, which is a cause, the analytic cause, in other words, that is an ethic in its own fundamental nature, then the trust and faith of the analyst is to have a good laugh with the still scientific melancholia of Russell, who, as a true fanatical obsessive seeking to erase any demand alluding to a desire, he commands the subject to bring to an end the process of a delicate science, by saying that, When there is evidence, no one speaks of faith: but dear Bertrand, it is those evidence that aggravate a spirit to request faith.

 

 

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

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.

The Holy Spirit: The Breath, Which Cannot be Said.

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That Real, which cannot be said, is an Act- it is a Being Silent, for, that which cannot be said is a breath, the phoneme’s, or, even better, the Letter’s lungful of air ∙ for, the clothes of the king were invisible and yet, the body, that audible membrane perceived as the product of the Other’s Gaze- what a mistaken perception. And, if the practise of psychoanalysis, as much as that is formulated onto Freud’s discovery and towards the sanctified direction for the cause initiated by Lacan, then, what a foolishness is to be, to investigate that which cannot be said of the Real by speaking about it, when, when my dear friend, you ought to know a better joke to a-muse us, through your own experience of that gap ∙ that Real, which is restricted, is the hole overflowing with desire and, from where, a subject recites neither a prayer nor a speech- but a breath of cool heavenly breeze, and it preserves only the nomination of desire and its rite de passage, forcing a subject, a given one, to say “This is where I should be, for, here I desire, therefore I breath:” and, in the hunt for noble words, or at least a few amusing syllables, to be able to declare a, not many, words of honesty, and surely less of intellectualism, for something that is quite a new creation with each and for each subject, then, let us cough and scratch that which tickles our throat, and ingest our tongues’ glossalgia, once again, out of pain and because there is, so far, inscrutability and continuation of faith to the mystery of the question, not what, but how is it to be a human being, not that which speaks of its desire but, that, that who also acts on it- it is with the act, dignified friend, that, that which cannot be said becomes a breath, one of desire: the Lectis Thing of the ErgOn.

 

 

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

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.

On the Reading that is Symphonic.

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The Act is the antiphony of jouissance- the phoneme ought to be sang and spelled out∙ a school and an orientation could have create a chorus, at least regarding the direction of a desire, and to the best of our stupidity we could have made some use of the Liturgia Horarum, for, if there is anything to be venerated, that is not the semblance but that desire for the Cause, not its causality, but that which becomes a breath from the puncture, for, the fissure from where desire shall sprang its motion is for no use but for Kinesis and for the Letter, not a waste of a litter certainly but an abysmal aether, offering the trauma’s sacred pinches and tones to the analyst’s desire∙ it is in this asymmetrical manner that the signifier detects and recognizes the analysts, not the other way around, and within this creation, not an existence, analysts are desired to learn a novel alphabet: each time de novo, for, and because every analysand is different, an analyst is dissimilar, as well, to its own shadow.

 

 

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

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.

The Duty of Psychoanalysis.

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A duty is not a dept· the duty of psychoanalysis is its commitment to the ethic responsible for providing the practise itself a space within the discourses of civilization- it is the duty towards the symptom’s bronchophony in the direction of that serpentine desire pushing for recognition∙ there cannot be psychoanalysis without civilization, and there cannot be a civilisation without psychoanalysis: more than anything, the analyst is Kinesis, and he precipitates, outside of time, those interventions upon the Letter so that free speech is lawfully recognized: a speech that is perpendicular- nothing more. That motion, not the subject in progress, or in process, is not locked within sessions, neither within the repetitive sounds captured by a wall’s ear- as they say- or behind soundproof doors where one’s hieroglyphic echo is not only not becoming epigraphic, but, it is swallowed by the catatonia of the analyst’s own desire· when analysts speak their voices ought to crumble the walls of Jericho, of that Ιερός Ήχος of the unconscious that is structured like a language but is heard like a Letter: we ought to be at least responsible to carry the burden of our own speech, and raise a voice- not too much of a silence: to raise a voice towards those teeth accountable for producing almighty discourses leading to cloning, that is, those phonemes crashing subjectivity within the cultural discourses denying the subjects’ right to create their own place and their own alphabet- that place that is in-formation: Freud’s staying in Austria until the outmost moment has something to teach regarding this heroic stance, an Act not worthy of an Actor but of an Activist· it is not a support or a submission to the death drive but to life.

 

 

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

By Petros Patounas.

The School of the Freudian Letter Publications.