sinthessaytica

What is a symptom?

The symptom guarantees a place in the universe. The universe is painful, but too big to know. A symptom is a pain that we know about very well – we know almost everything there is to know about it except why it is that it can’t be given up. Pain can provide a place for a creature that wants nothing more than to define its purpose once and for all. Like an answer to the question of desire (“I cannot bear it,”), pain is reliable, locatable.  As modern therapy models tend to say, it is “in the body”, though its source seems to always lie beyond it, beyond even the subject, touched in fragments, but best referred to as an incomparable and very privately known elusivity, one that concerns the question of being for a neurotic.

On fantasy, shame and a grand lack of irony

You can’t change your fantasy; but you can take responsibility for it by assigning a lack within the fantasy structure itself, that is to say a symbolized understanding (a deep knowing culled through difficult experiences and uncensored reflections) of its necessarily unfulfilled core, the cause of desire itself.

You can come to understand what you’ve been holding out for, its unreachable quality, and how you’ve been hurting from the belief in its reachable existence. There’s no reason to feel shame for fantasy except to find an excuse to preserve it ‘as is.’ “The Other does not respect my fantasy; does not understand me, therefore I will secretly fantasize as I have been and await my day of full reward.” Or: “Perhaps I will always simply enjoy my fantasy in private, shut far out from the world.” Whatever my strategy, my fantasy remains preserved without the inherent irony of its fantastic structure installed within it. And the Big Other thus cruelly remains in a correspondingly despotic position of lacklessness (“Someone’s got to be getting it if I’m not!”).

To understand lack in this way opens a space in which one must arduously wonder just what (or who) one would be without their fantasy as support, without the pain known so well, so personally, of its unbearable unfulfillment.

As is generally the case, a poet turns a prosaic monotony about existential grief into the new warmth of a well designed koan: “What would I lose if I didn’t have pain?” — snakeshuntsss, 2014

On the formulas of sexuation and the envy towards the Other

“Man” does not see a problem about his sexual placement or sexuation (regardless of his biology) — do not be fooled for his envy of the Other sex, he merely envies what he perceives to be a lack of limitation on bodily enjoyment — a logical conclusion given his utter misery in his insistence on being an unchangingly sexuated subject.

“Woman” (also regardless of biological sex) is not convinced about her gender placement because she understands the flimsiness of its promise for identity. Her envy for men is precisely toward his stupid conviction that he is a biological form that comes without complications. She also envies in the same way the woman who she determines to be “phallic” and therefore also uncomplicated as a sexuated subject.

The unbounded Woman, the non-subject as such, is the Other for the subject on either side of the formula for sexuation.

i miss when phones were stupid. when TVs were stupid. when cars were stupid. when computers were stupid. when screens were for lookin’ at and not for touchin’. when tech was simply “there” and not in any sense everywhere. when nothing needed to be updated or upgraded, ever. you had the thing and that was what you had for a long time.