One of my early papers on Deleuze's transcendental empiricism can be found here
for anyone who's interested (yes, I'm a shameful self-promoter and little narcissist. And yes, I vainly googled my name to reassure myself I exist, after an automated hand dryer refused to register my presence). Like anything else, my position has mutated and developed with time, but it's also startling to both come across oneself online when I didn't know I was still out there and to see how monotonous (or consistent) thought can sometimes be. I often have the experience of thinking that I'm thinking something entirely new (for myself) at the time I think it, only to reread something I wrote years ago and find a nearly identical formulation. Why is it so impossible to be before oneself? Or why does thought seem so forgetful of itself?