...And really, I still do not have time to blog, but I promise my lovely readers that I will be back in full swing this summer (just around the corner).
Until that time, here are a few quotes that I have been playing with (in my mind and in my academic writing):
But the urn of language is so fragile. It crumbles and immediately you blow into the dust of words which are the cinder itself. And if you entrust it to paper, it is all the better to inflame you with, my dear, you will eat yourself up immediately. No, this is not the tomb he would have dreamed of in order that there may be a place [y ait lieu], as they say, for the work of mourning to take its time. In this sentence I see the tomb of a tomb, the monument of an impossible tomb - forbidden, like the memory of a cenotaph, deprived of the patience of mourning, denied also the slow decomposition that shelters, lodges, hospitalizes itself in you while you eat the pieces (he did not want to eat the piece but was forced to). An incineration celebrates perhaps the nothing of the all, its destruction without return but mad with its desire and with its cunning (all the better to preserve everything, my dear), the desperately disseminal affirmation but also just the opposite, the categorical "no" to the laborious work of mourning, a "no" of fire. Can one ever accept working for His Higness Mourning? (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 55).
What a difference between cinder and smoke: the latter apparently gets lost, and better still, without perceptible remainder, for it rises, it takes to the air, it is spirited away, sublimated. The cinder - falls, tires, lets go, more material since it fritters away its word; it is very divisible (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 73).
and here is a video that is wonderful:
Love, Peace, and all that Jazz.