Love 7: Guilt

Guilt, unlike Love, is a recent, 15th century construction, the result of the rise of humanism and scientific progress that changed the way we view the individual’s relationship to their world. Guilt emerges in the theology of Martin Luther, while prior to him religions had a concept of fear of God and a concept of sin, particularly sins of a society, sins of the individual contributing to a collective sin punishable by God (Sodom and Gomorrah, etc).

But to remain authentic to our dialectic of Love, our modern dialectic, spoken with a modern, individuated comportment, we must acknowledge guilt. Confess that Love and Guilt are intertwined.

Two perspectives. Guilt itself being the bio-theological parasite that feeds upon the bio-semiotic vine of Love as it has itself grown within the religious and post religious stances. Alternatively, Guilt within the body of religion, its protective white blood cell reaction to the parasite of Love (ultimately as we’ve said a foreign viral infection). Sin is not strong enough to manage Love, and so its DNA is spliced with the modern scientific discourses of the individual, of class and society and associated revisions to cosmology — to breed a stronger protective mechanism to constrain and control Love within the body of religion.

That is guilt within the body of religion where Love continues onwards as a mutated Platonic bio semiotic parasite.

But what of Love as the suppressed term within philosophy? Guilt is not a suppressed term but rather a phantasm of suppression without a back story, without lineage. Guilt is purely theological born out of theological necessity, but deriving from the very explicit cogito of Descartes. Philosophically it is nothing.

Love 5: the Abject

The courtly love of the Medieval Europeans — arguably itself a 19th century misprision of some relatively protosemiotic target material — its nadir, its supremum, its apotheosis is the abject. Where Lancelot and Guaneviere are a big black dick up the hash tag cuckold Athurian ass hole of televisual porn hub dot cum shit brain spewed across the stars, forming stars of discourse, stars of localities.

He abject is what is conventionally known as madness. But might better be defined as the shit, the shit perspective. Thee is a fine line from fuckup to success: the fine line is the abject.

Love 5

5. Love and intoxication

Intoxication is a poetic trope of love, delirium, madness, drunkeness, becoming misty, aching unbearably, fallen, the fall. The primordial, hidden trope, the gnostic trope, for poetry’s strongly religious immediare forbare is Gnostic. If not historically then at least practically for what is poetry if not mispeaking, misprision of the supressed primordial religious sign regime rendered innocuous as “mere” poetry  – self reflexively we deem it Gnosticism at least. The fall then: Eve not simply eating the apple but the repressed Gnostic myth that she fucked Samael/Serpent too, bore Cain from that union (not to mention that she herself reincarnated as Sara in more modern Tailorite Gnosticism). 

Well then, continuing along our authentic, psychoanalytic reinvention of love, we have a Cartesian situation of love’s intoxication in the unconscious. The Bachantine is clinically reinvented as the hysteric. The lineage of the chosen term is purposefully bio-semiotic: hystera in Greek is the uterus, hysteria a uterine disturbance. A feminine madness, feminine intoxication. Bachantine reinvented as the out of control female sexuality (it is yet undoubtably sexy). 

Love 4

Love, semiotically fantasised in the psychoanalytic turn is a presemiotic dramatic relationship that necessarily operates along the axes of suppression and deferral. Suppression is the discourse of psychoanalytic fantasy recognising its own feeble misrepresentation of the hidden term. I suppress what I am, therefore I am. While deferral is the discourse reflecting upon the instability inherent within its communication act. I am move from one love to another to another, therefore I am. Psychoanalysis though, alone, authentically intimates the existence of love. By virtue of its misrepresentation and instability, love re-emerges, authentically, into the domain of the philosopher.

I’m a naughty boy …

Hey Emmanuel,
This is Daniel and I spoke with you near St Pauls last Friday with my fiance Marie. Hope you are well.
It was nice talking with you and I hope you’ve been thinking about some of the things we discussed. 
Would you like to meet up again sometime, maybe after work to talk more? 
Also, I did a bit of youtubing and googling on the “truth movement” which I think was what you were referring to when I spoke to you? (let me know if I’m wrong). It’s not something I haven’t heard before and like I mentioned to you on Friday, its certainly within the biblical narrative that the government could be involved in heinous and horrific things whether outwardly or secretly – especially with all the advanced technology we have. However, the one thing I do know for sure is how everything ends – God wins. All I’m called to do is follow Jesus – seek the kingdom God, and everything else will fall into place. If the illuminati are planning something, we can rest assure that if you’re trust is in God through Christ, the outcome will always be – you win.

Love 3

3. Love’s reconstruction

And then there is the psychoanalytic turn, both our origin and our departure.

Our origin.

While the Platonic bio-semiotic machine is left to run its parallel course, philosophy as a discourse recognises in Freud the term of love. But the machine, absolutely, totally, globally messianic in its reach, has rendered any mystical recognition an impossible project. And so Freud begins from first principles and, utilising the clinical tropes of the Cartesian regime, reconstructs  love, primordial love, pre semiotic love, recognising it for what it is: a physical truth this exists a priori the cogito.

“I think therefore I am” presupposes an “I” which presupposes a mother I love and a father I will murder. The Oedipal fate is the symbolic function by which the Cogito is regulated, can come into being, by which theses and antitheses wriggle forth as Cartesian emanations from the deductive lamp, whose holy oil is tragedy, as the drama precedeeding the Platonic school. Drama is the text’s relationship to the shaman, if you’ll forgive the romantic fantasy, to an amoral wisdom, a presemiotic Titan groaning, entranced and engorged with thought, thought that precedes Olympian projects.

Freud takes the discourse of love back to what held primacy before philosophy. Drama. Mythopoetic … Almost a ritual, almost a dream. But scientifically put, precise and coordinated in the guise of an inductive theory. With his Mosaic fantasy, his profound meditation on the religiosity of his forbears, he corrects (Kabbalically) the errors of the Platonic Cain virus and the Abrahamic Abel, neutralising the “mark” of the bio-semiotic machine with the alien technology of the European Rennaissance’s unspoken vacancy, a vacancy so absent as to be present, a presence temporal foreign to the lie of genesis, the globalised religious discourse of love. Freud utilises a Cartesian vocabulary to reframe the primordial tragedy of love lost. True love lost. The psychoanalytic school calls it desire, libido, the suppressed and deferred.

And it is via the axes of suppression, deferral and tragedy that we can depart. And speak of love, for the first time in a long while.

Love 2

2. Love’s fall

The discourse of love begins with Plato. The suppression of the term love begins with this initiatory moment. From which is born a bio-semiotic virus, enabled by the suppressed term. A virus that itself, in time, evolves a stealth strategy for conquest of bodies via theological assemblage. So while we say that love’s encapsulation is necessary to the Cartesian subject’s emergence, it is important to understand that the discourse of love evades the subject through the stealth strategy of theological crucifixion, and hence global control.

Prior to the psychoanalytic turn, the philosophy of love is a moral discourse. It begins as a moral discourse within the Platonic genesis. And as a moral discourse, it thrives therefore, like a vine or weed, surviving and feeding upon the emergence of the body of Christian theology. 

The genius and poetic strength of the Platonic genesis lies, as with all discourse, in the suppression of a primordial progenitor, love itself. Moral love comes into being at the expense of a suppressed love. But Platonic love is no mere religious law, it is a sophisticated sign regime: we might preferably deem it a semiotics of love, or better still, a bio-semiotic force that rose to power through adopting a Judeo-Christian guise, enabling it to feed on captivated bodies and cultures. That to this day retains a global control, regulating bodies and relationships, regulating families, generations, though Christian law withers across Europe (we leave the American turn for the moment). 

At the Alexandrian synergy, Greek semiosis laid its parasitic eggs within Judaic law, and was then carried by their imperial masters imperative into a global imperium outlive Rome, still going strong to this day. The result evades philosophy of bodies, and (Messianically) transmutes from symposium into a total symbolic re-definition of the body.

This is the origin of the biblical fall, the shame of Adam and Eve: their shame’s origin, as we know it, stems from this viral infiltration of Middle Eastern law by the Platonic bio-semiotic machine. Prior to this conquest, the law was law and bodies were bodies. The infiltration operated by intermingling sign and body, so that law’s gaze becomes absolute at even the cellular level. This is the origin of the modern God, the Christian god: law transmuted (mystically, Eucharist style) into bio-semiosis. Law made son of man. But the origin is not autonomous, its lineage is the stealth hallucination induced by the Platonic  inspectoid, eggs now hatching.

Love

I exist in relation to love.
I love therefore I am certain. I fail at love and I am exiled from love. I return to love, uncertain of what return means. I am deadened by love, I am awoken by love.
There is nothing more achingly nuclear, more subversively revolutionary, more perplexingly miraculous than the three word performative utterance, incantation, shahada: I love you.
I love the truthful, bare naked exposure of love most of all. Because I love, truthfully, I love.

1. The lineage of love in modern philosophy

Love is a suppressed sign in modern philosophy. Somewhere, buried within the library of the Greek origin, there is the Symposium and the Platonic dialogues. Then love rests, reemerging from time to time, notably within the Christian Aristotelian-Platonist mongrel: Augustianian contemplations upon the meaning of marriage, the theology of God’s love in Neoplatonism. Then it is censored within the Cartesian cogito, it is neither synthetic nor analytic within Kant, and Humean/Barclayan induction has nothing to say of the significance of repetition/exception when it comes to a human relationships.

And yet they do. What is spoken is driven by what is unspoken. And so they speak volumes. Discount the postures of the German and English romantics, the Goetes and Colleridges: strong poets but weak philosophers, if strength is given a Bloomean measure, one of Oedipal succession, of reformation in a legitimacy that is at one both lineal and a rupure/resurfacing of the symptom.

And so here I am, love sick, a philosopher of my time, ready to pronounce, kneeling at the confessional of this, my Catholic sign regime. To speak as a philosopher of my time, authentically, I must deploy my meagre inheritance, the psychoanalytic vocabulary of the Europeans, from Freud to Lacan to Foucault to Deleuze, who afford (respectively) at least a living and breathing habitus of the complexities, the embodied textuality, the abject failure of love under desire, the perverse and cynical capitalism of the fluid romantic term, the fundamentally superficial psychophisiology of love. Because it was in the Feudian turn that the Sign of Love seriously re-surfaced, strongly and explicitly engorged, protuding hence from the text of philosophical dialogue, voluptuously convexed herself, wantonly concaved to discourse.

Suppressed all the same. But visible, felt. Still mentioned. Psychoanalytic love is a side effect of physical textual nexus. Therefore a term that hovers above the surface of the body, like a mirage, like a false god. But a god all the same, good enough for me to work with, preemptive of the  the religiosity I am prophetically bound to embue upon it. 

It’s a sufficiently aroused state of affairs — one might even say deliriously climactic state of ontological tension — for me to kneel, spread her legs and taste. After all, philosophy is gagging for it.

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