Lettre de Sollers

‘Le 12 (minuit).

MIMIQUE, ou plutôt  mi+mi+que, c’est-à-dire deux fois les moitiés plus l’indication ou l’intimation subjonctive de la subordination mimée; mi-mais? Mais-qui? Mimi à que(ue)? Queue de mémé?

Le si lance et défie le texte en excès comme ce qui succède – dans l’après mi-dit – à la répétition du rire en écho mimé (rimé) l’arrivée d’or étant tout d’abord musique (or-chestre) et cela fait (si + or) = soir au milieu des rôles et du lustre que meut – silence meurtrier, silence tué –

(synodique: temps qui s’ecoule entre deux nouvelles lunes consécutives) – pas tant qu’il ne soient freinés – LIT/DES (il y en a des qui son dans le lit) (scène primitive) (coup de dés) – queue déliant l’idée –

La scène ne rend pas près des cieux que le rêve, sacré – ça crée en cédant au rêve – en s’aidant au rêve – pas de cadeau non plus (présent) apparent – le fantasme blanc – procédant, pro-créant –

plissement du con, pétration du père

(ô père)

per/pro

foutre futur passé glacé opéra –

mimière –

L’I mène –

LE MIME (neutre) est un demi-moi opéré, infini borné dans son unique stalle pur de toute

fiction, un demi-lieu et un demi-dieu –

retour des règles –

mime/milieu = moins/millier

(qu’y le lit/qui le l’y)(lie)

très tôt-en dépot: s’y taire

lignes: phrases-points, que/con, sur-prise liée –

au temps cité, luxe du silence ferré: un si lance en qu’or –

condiction d’hélice au regard; feuilleté: des lisses -‘

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London

Moravagine by Blaise Cendras

Love is masochistic. These cries and complaint, these sweet alarms, this anguished state of loves, this suspense, this latent pain that is just below the surface, almost unexpressed, these thousand and one anxieties, this childish fickleness of behaviour, this moral torture where vanity and self-esteem, or perhaps honour, upbringing and modesty are at stake, these highs and lows in this nervous tone, these leaps of the imagination, this fetishism, this cruel precision of the senses, whipping and probing, the collapse, the prostration, the abdication, the self-abasement, the perpetual loss and recovery of one’s personality, these stammered words and phrases, these pet-names, this intimacy, these hesitations in physical contact, these epileptic tremors, these successive and ever more frequent relapses, this more and more turbulent and stormy passion with its ravages progressing to the point of complete inhibition and annihilation of the soul, the debility of the senses, the exhaustion of the marrow, the erasure of the brain and even the dessication of the heart, this yearning for ruin, for destruction, of mysticism, this insatiability which expresses itself in hyper-irritability of the mucous membranes, in errant taste, in vasomotor or peripheral disorders, and which conjures up jealousy and vengeance, crimes, prevarications and treacheries, this idolatry, this incurable melancholy, this apathy, this profound moral misery, this definitive and harrowing doubt, this despair – are not all this stigmata the very symptoms of love in which we can first diagnose, then trace with a sure hand, the clinical curve of masochism?

 

Word of the Day-4

éclaircissement: illumination, enlightenment, clearing up of something puzzling

 

Semper Eadem, Baudelaire

Laissez, laissez mon coeur s’enivrer d’un mensonge,
Plonger dans vos beaux yeux comme dans un beau songe
Et sommeiller longtemps à l’ombre de vos cils!

So let my heart be lost within a lie,
As in a sweet dream, plunge into your eyes
And sleep a long time in your lashes’ shade.

Word of the Day-3

Incommensurable:

–adjective

1. not commensurable; having no common basis, measure, or standard of comparison.

2. utterly disproportionate.

3. Mathematics. (of two or more quantities) having no common measure.

 

Samedi the Deafness by Jesse Ball

I saw in the distance a harbour approaching, a harbour walking arm in arm with the sea, and upon the sea great catastrophes of ships, constellations of storm and fright. Distances. How much then I knew that distance was always our greatest enemy, distance was always the obstacle that could not be overcome. Steam trains brought us closer. Airplanes. Elevators. Rockets. But how can we be beside the one we love on that particular day when it would suddenly, inexplicably, mean the most? For small distances, a street, a room, the length of an arm, these divide like a sword. They are the worst, the most devilish, the most puzzling. Ask me again when I go into the hall, will I hate to be parted from you, will I call out the moment I am finished with what I must do? Instead, my love, arrive. Arrive quietly as I finish. Surely that is within your power.

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