Analytica

It is often sad to see a blog fall silent, especially when the blogger strangely resembles oneself and one's own paths of thought. Of course, had I known this blogger the principles of the imaginary dictate that I'd probably want to kill them as I would experience the resemblance as usurping and threatening my own being and identity. As Lacan relates in an amusing anecdote,

The little girl I mentioned earlier, who wasn't particularly awful, found refuge in a country garden, where she became very peaceably absorbed, at an age when she was scarcely walking on her feet, in the application of a good-sized stone to the skull of a playmate from next door, who was the person around whom she'd constructed her first identifications. The deed of Cain does not require very great motor sophistication to come to pass in the most spontaneous, I must even say in the most triumphant, of fasions. She had no sense of guilt-- Me break francis head. She spoke that with assurance and peace of mind. Nonetheless, I still don't predict a criminal future for her. She simply displayed the most fundamental structure of the human being on the imaginary plane-- to destroy the person who is the site of alienation. (Seminar 1, 172)

No doubt I would have wanted to crack this persons head had I known them while they were still writing in this medium, now I'm just regretful that I didn't have the opportunity to feel guilty about trying to crack their head. I suspect that a good deal of the rhizosphere is populated by this sort of head breaking.

The world is a cold place. Voices often go unheard. It's important to acknowledge voices earnestly enunciating themselves so that they might continue to produce enduring traces, for soon traces become grooves. This is one reason I strive so hard to refer to other blogs and frontpage them when I have something to say in response.