I need to find my Sharona #monk
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the most sensitively attuned intellectual when discussing the nature of all things can only stagger out the words "we are so lucky". this is because she understands the deep truth of ongoing random chance.
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Perhaps the most fundamental idea is that the unconscious "produces". What this means is that we must stop treating the unconscious, as everyone has done up to now, like some kind of theatre where a privliged drame is represented, the drama of Oedipus. We blieve the unconscious is not a theatre, but a factory. Artaud said something really beautiful in this regard. He said the body, and especially the ailing body, is like an overheated factory. So, no more theatre. Saying the unconscious "produces" means that it's a kind of mechanism that produces other mechanisms. In other ords, we believe the unconscious has nothing in common with theatrical representation but with something called a "desiring machine". Let's be clear about the word "mechanism". The biological theory of mechanism was never able to understand desire and remains totally in the dark in this area because desire cannot be integrated into mechanical models. When we talk about desiring-machines, or the unconscious as a mechanism of desire, we mean something completely different. Desiring consists in interruptions, letting certain flows through, making withdrawals from those flows, cutting the chains that become attached to the flows. This system of the unconscious, or desire that flows, interrupts, begins flowing again - it's totally literal; and contrary to what traditional psychoanalysis tells us, it is perfectly meaningless. Without any sense, there is nothing to interpret. Interpretation is meaningless here. The problem is knowing how the unconcious works. It is knowing how "desiring-machines" work, and knowing how to use those machines.
-G. Deleuze
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I’ve been wanting to write for a while, but Aislin keeps a daily journal. I can’t tell whether she’s taking this piss, but it sounds like she just records what she did and felt in a day.
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It’s 4am, I’m baked in the Uber, scrolling my own tumblr, repeating to myself that I am a genius
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By the end of this year, I will be a lawyer.
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