Showing posts with label Deleuze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deleuze. Show all posts

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Of Teratology

Here is a piece below that I, McLean, posted at my blog & at the blog of Jennifer S. Chesler. The book that I am describing contains a variety of pieces to be found further back in Postmodernmortem Fragments

The book is on Google books at this link. It is on Amazon at this link. I cannot recommend it highly enough.
 
Jennifer S. Chesler writes of people in a manner reminiscent of the discussion of the "New Philosophers" in Deleuze. So do I, McLean. Everything becomes teratology. The human is no longer the rational animal, but the defective monster.

This extends from Tiny Tom with his micropenis to the "porn star" Michael, with a dick half the size of mine. The same applies to the religious and arrogant psychiatrist, Dr. Bunghole, as he is so appositely called. He sees himself as intelligent, but is in the 97th percentile. He is thus the opposite of an intellectual, a monster who pretends to an interest in literature, mediated via the vulgar phenomenon of the "book club". It is a moron that pretends to a life devoted to Christian charity, revealing itself in a fascist policy of turning his uneducated clients into drugged and bovine zombies.

In the earlier pieces by Chesler in her novel Fragments, teratology enumerates a series of freaks. From the inarticulate morons who inhabit "Rick's Gold Room" to the character "Little Jack", a primal non-human emblem of male homosexual desire, none of the characters but the narrator are fully human. The character with the micropenis, Tom, is also seen in these earlier pieces as a psychological freak possessed by his narcissism, in addition to his physical handicap and ensuing inability to satisfy any woman sexually. Here is Fragments at Lulu.

The similarity between the earlier procedure utilized by Chesler and my/our present procedure is that we react to the defective, the inadequate, not to condemn the marginalized, but to condemn those who affect to be what they are not. Porn stars, in one case, men on any level in the first case, or people who display Christian charity and service in the latter. They are scumbags, and that which makes them monsters is the most egregious bad faith. They seek an identity that is not theirs: they seek to be that which they are not in order not to scream in the dark night.

Friday, June 1, 2018

More on Chesler's Fragments

Further Considerations Regarding Fragments

In "Four Propositions on Psychoanalysis", Deleuze does not consider psychiatry as such, but some arguments hold true of it in modified form, & relate to Chesler's book.

Firstly, psychoanalysis stifles the production of desire. Psychiatry attacks the brain's chemistry to render desire an achievement. As a victim of mismedication, Chesler writes of the mental hospital in "Down and Out in Muncie, Indiana" - as an artist, we do not want to stifle & conquer the alleged unconscious, we must produce it - & it is not easy to create this infantile world, but it is our duty. Fascist psychiatrists may believe that they mean well, but as Bukowski notes: there are no good cops. Chesler's desire was stifled before then, deviated & suppressed, but it sought itself in art, it found itself in me. In the story in question, she is seen as surrounded by pointless ciphers, each of them barely human, vermin. The mentally ill, the Herr Doktors, & the fascist camp guards on the medical staff all played out their allotted roles, like all the unintelligent they were unable to be outside of their clearly delimited borders.

Secondly, psychoanalysis abuses language, it keeps people from speaking, it takes away the conditions of true expression, & thus it stifles utterances, that strive to be indefinites, infinitives, proper names of becomings. Psychoanalysis separates the expressing subject from the subject of the utterance, Chesler does not try to speak her "I", except in  the meta-level excerpts alluded to in the previous analysis of the work. She even masquerades this alleged "I" through the character "I" – she subverts the entire psychiatric/psychoanalytic subversion of thought by assuming the "I" as a proper name. The establishment uses personal pronouns as weapons; they are part of its rape kit. The psychiatrist sees the patient as part of an anonymous group categorized, in this case, as "bipolar I" – this is horseshit. Each of them, these various victims, is a unique name, indicating a haecceitas.

Thirdly, psychiatry, like psychoanalysis, destroys utterance & desire by a machine that interprets, & a machine that subjectivises its subjects. They, this enemy, tell you who you are. Chesler defies the process by the representation of an irreducible intensity, though this book is full of placeholders, wasting space while an equal awaited her unknowing, so the irreducible intensity is a failure & a sense of despite, of disgust, spitting arrogant hatred at eyes that are full of junk & nothingness.

Fourthly, psychoanalysis involves power relationships. Now this is doubly true of the psychiatric institution. Chesler's current psychiatrist, whom we call Dr. Bunghole in our texts about him, is a moron who actually boasted that his IQ was 130 to her, as if this were impressive. This ludicrous arrogance stems from the fact that the branch of the police called psychiatry is a medium of social control. It exacts an enforced docility from the unruly bodies of the insane by the brutality of the anti-psychotic. Chesler narrates in the story in question of a cretinous nurse who behaved like a camp guard, a scumbag.

Art should reveal truth, should indicate it & engage in the strenuous activity of thought, says Heidegger. This Chesler does.

Extremism III at Amazon

Now the newest collaborative thing is on Amazon. Here it is, The Philosophy of Extremism III by David C. McLean & Jennifer S. Chesler ....