inappropriate immoderated inetiquette: love on -empyre-

Completely detracked: I am rejected, bounced, by -empyre-! And back here, on the rebound, read on:

[-empyre-] October 2008, love on -empyre- began thusly:

‘love’

“Oh my friends, there is no friend…”

Jacques Derrida, quoting Montaigne, quoting
Aristotle…in his treatise on friendship.

“There are no equals, only rivals…”

Constantine in the BBC docudrama, ‘Ancient Rome: The
Rise and Fall of an Empire’…as he cultivated an
empire of Christian love.

“For nails would not have held God-and-Man fast to the
Cross, had love not held Him there…”

Saint Catherine of Siena

One supposes in life that some things are possible.
Love is one of these things, no? We presume such a
thing is possible? But what if love were impossible?

Our relationship with love, god (and the infinity of
price and spectacle), is recently articulated in
Damien Hirst’s ‘For the Love of God’ (2007), Platinum
skull, 8,601 diamonds and human teeth,(17.1 x 12.7 x
19.1 cm).

$100 million. A record: the highest price ever paid
for the work of a living artist. One marvels that we
can any longer, truly render Aquinas’ corporeal
metaphors for spiritual things. As for love: some
euphoria of the genetic Code and capitalizations as
currencies of that Code? A molecular symphony of
melancholy and bliss? As for God: Neurotransmissions?
A battery of concepts, like 8,601 diamonds in the
rough? All of which pale in comparison, perhaps, to
what is wished for in the impossibility of love as the
gift of some Other?

So two things: god and love. Every major religion of
the world syncopates these two concepts,
paradoxically, via the utilization of conceptual
infinity, and one concept’s weakness becomes the other
concept’s strength: the horizon of god’s love is
endless, and the horizon of one’s love for god, should
be too.

Yes, that is it: love is the purview of sacrifice. We
must bleed for love. This is the claim of the
disciple; the saint, and poet. But there are no saints
any longer, and poetry is endangered, if not extinct.
And the sacred, by definition, is always exterminated
as a functional violence of the holy service.

Is there no love, and instead, only relations of
sacrifice?

Join us in this thematic discussion and we shall
see…

http://www.subtle.net/empyre/

from Nicholas Ruiz III 03/10/08.

I sent what I considered to be an at best provocative and at worst interesting contribution to this month’s conversation at -empyre- soft_skinned_space, a list and community I have been part of for some years, and in response received the following:

Your request to the empyre mailing list

Posting of your message titled “Re: [-empyre-] Re: love,
sacrifice, and the eternal return”

has been rejected by the list moderator. The moderator gave the
following reason for rejecting your request:

“Your message was deemed inappropriate by the moderator.”

Any questions or comments should be directed to the list administrator
at:

empyre-owner@lists.cofa.unsw.edu.au

Here’s what I wrote:

To smile at a Crocodile:

A love is a brick. Is a concept. (Massumi) A concept is the love of the love. As in: In love with love. Absolutely (no reification being thereby implied).

The style of being of a love. (Levy Bryant) Where style is an individual form of originality. (Baudelaire) The love is the concept as it loves, as in to love. A pure infinitive event, beyond ‘anthropological predicates’ and before any actual ‘love.’ (Deleuze) The concept being an ontological before it is an epistemological category. (Also Bryant)

The being of being in love being set in motion. So differing internally, qualitative and stylistically. Moving infinitely. (Deleuze) As we gathered. (Badiou) For however long it last. Rather, endure. Feeble and strong. (Kristeva)

And having found it what do we do with it? but repeat it in the terms in which it is actualised, bio-logic-mechanic-ally. Or take a cutting. A shortcut. And a silhouette. Hard graft. And topology.

And in that second thought sort of repeat who flips all the bits of love to chance? throws up each little die? of every little death? (Nietzsche. Or Mallarme. Some symbolist, at least?)

What then if love is a brick and we make the wall suggested geographically (albeit it would be clearer as a dry-stone construction. Better whetted. Sharper on the cut.)? In what is love then contained? and by what entrained? but its negative.

And how long must the mere (representational) repetition stay up (/durer/), surely not eternally! Internally?

“Be Hence Ghost of Internal Redcurrants!”

Love is alone in excluding everything but the empirical delusion of anthropological predicates. And in that transcendental bind, it may find itself immured. That is, doubled. In a pincer movement. (Deleuze & Guattari)

The essential, however, before love is just loved, is that it move. And in moving not be not love.

Love,

Simon Taylor

www.squarewhiteworld.com
www.brazilcoffee.co.nz

(Note: I am ‘smiling at a crocodile‘ in answer to this, from sdv@krokodile.co.uk,

“Where does love begin/end/come into being, geographically speaking?” Geographically speaking ? mean ?

(What can love and “geographically speaking” mean in a world, where the old definitions and concepts founded on geography, race are dying faster than the humans who might once have been associated to this concept. (I am thinking especially of deceased scientific concepts such as the “English Race” but also of Africans, Americans and so on, these geographical concepts have no validity left). Given this what can geographically speaking mean ? And since I’d imagined that ‘love’ is as close to a universal as any concept describing an actual human and non-human might be, perhaps my difficulty and interest in this “geographically speaking” which must suggest that some humans in some geographies, don’t love…. but where ?

)

For more information please visit -empyre- and ask them,

Where is the love?

Is it immured [as I suggested in my contribution] and geographically confined? biologically? or cut off by the cordon sanitaire of netiquette?