On Logic and Language (I)

April 26, 2011 § Leave a comment

Would I be more truthful to myself if I spoke only in tautologies? You are you. I do or do not love you. I may or may not secretly look forward to death. I am myself and I like grapefruits and whiskey and so I like grapefruits. Perhaps that last one doesn’t quite count.

Fuck language and the way it delimits us. Not a day goes by that I don’t envy the quiet life of a so-called lower animal that communicates in scent and presence and aggression and care and loyalty and order. I am quite sure that most of those synapses that feed my melancholy moods originate in my frontal cortex. Or it is at least that part of my brain that makes those electronic pulses saddening.

Sometimes I think: whereof one cannot speak – [anacolutha] – where can one speak again? And more importantly: why? A question on its knees.

All I ever wanted was to be good to you. How can I mean that? But you know what I mean, don’t you? I mean do you understand.


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