07 August 2011
Movie Review: Howl
Growing up as an adolescent in a provincial backwater, I was constantly hitting up against the parochial conservatism of authority figures when in the collective realms that I felt my attendance was compulsory in. I recall once an authority figure, a stern lesbian nun, asking me if I felt I had been born in the wrong decade. It was a curious question to which I replied, no.
However, it did get me thinking that perhaps I had been misplaced. Then, as poststructuralism occupied the temporal striated organization of my neural landscape, I found Nietzsche's idea of the untimely man very appealing and was able to position my entire existence as somehow a poststructural function of the limits of empirical knowledge. I was an aberration of the present epistemology that man operates from and innocently railed against the epistemology, the ontology.
Fortunately, I did not permanently stop at the monument to God is dead, God remains dead and we have killed him. Instead, I continued on the train in the land of conventional or relative truth to discover that at the next station, the absolute, the infinite has transformed and renewed itself -- hurling itself towards its next declination, deterioration and dissolution -- skirting the edge of land where it meets the abyss like a reef skirts the edge of the diffusion of salt water.
From point to point, from line to line, like a line of flight.
I dedicate this post to the Bonsai Hunter, Herbs (happy birthday), Citybuoy (happy birthday), Victor, Manila Bitch, Partee Boi and the Bashful One and the Closet Geek.