If they are worth anything, those pseudo-deleuzians I have been wailing about will, in their 'loneliest loneliness', suffer unspeakable torments of conscience. What should I care? If they try to thrust themselves upon me, I will turn away.
Maybe I haven't the right to point fingers, maybe I have. Maybe I don't really know who I'm pointing fingers at or why. One thing is certain: I have forgotten that I don't want to be a finger-pointer at all.
So today I wish to begin an occasional feature (a foil to The Weblog's Tuesday Hatred); to help remind myself of the things in life that I - we - mustn't neglect to celebrate.
For now, two things: 1) Gilles Deleuze's beautiful panegyric to his maître, Jean-Paul Sartre:
"To what is Sartre faithful? Ever and always to the friendRead it. Read it? Reread it.
Pierre-who-is-never-there. It is his peculiar destiny to circulate pure air when
he speaks, even if this pure air, the air of absences, is difficult to breathe."
in Desert Islands p80.
2) Erik Satie's piano works. It is truly the most beautiful music I have ever heard.
Satie has inspired many artists, including Jean Cocteau and Pablo Picasso. I hope that presenting a few examples of this will add to the general exuberance of the post.
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