(Originally posted in a thread on the Galilean Forums here: http://www.galilean-library.org/academy/viewtopic.php?p=20475#20475

It would be good to read the opening post to orient oneself before reading my reply.) 

The terse proclamation that “all thought is anthropomorphic” stands as a singular, and thereby comparatively less vivid, echo of the voice of the viruses that spawned with philosophy. These self-dissolving elements within the great project actualize in their affective potential from between the minute text filling the magnum opuses of the great philosophers – from the white spaces between words and thoughts. Philosophy’s demise lies in the admission of its inability to capture the ultimate contingently.

The great reality check for philosophy is Nietzsche’s reminder that the “text finally disappeared under the interpretation”, that the conceptual elements whereby a thinker purports to subjugate non-conceptual aspects of reality are fluid, contingent, diverse, changing, and that our understanding consists of these ephemeral constructions. Not only are the discourses inadequate to establish the incoherent “ultimate”, but also these different discourses are ubiquitous: no thing itself is formulated outside of discourse and inane signifiers will not save categorical knowledge.
However intellectual the basic sensibility of the phenomena of observation, theory makes the distinction between the observed and conceptions. Operating even within this dichotomy will, with careful attention, yield a discomfort between the disparate fields of theory and its territorialization of observations.

Everyday the sovereignty of the moment is more foreign to the language in which we express ourselves, which draws value back to utility: what is sacred, not being an object, escapes our apprehension. There is not even, in this world, a way of thinking that escapes servitude, an available language such that in speaking it we do not fall back into the immutable rut as soon as we are out of it. -Bataille

Bataille finds in sex, death, and violence that there lie subtle and ineffable relations: ones that transgress all clumsy and contingent theoretical classification: in sex and violence there is a new “opening” and exploration that defies all prior epistemological commitments: new relations are forged in unsaid ways. In picking up the same proverbial line of observations, Wallace Stevens says “Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can be made into” thereby further accentuating the force with which philosophy’s basic carpet of conceptual subsuming – or reductivism – is pulled from under its own feet. What is it, Nietzsche asks us, that makes us think that “true” and “false” are omnipresent and ultimate: why not “degrees of apparentness”?

To compare modern thought to what we are talking about: where Schopenhauer’s Wille – as thing in itself – was presented in modern terms as a form of random and irreducible, unknowable elements, Deleuze extends the diversification not simply to a localized epistemological entity, but posits that the entire project of framing or “territorializing” desire (the imminently human aspect of Schopenhauer’s Wille) is undermined by the priority of desire itself: it is the diversity and activity which precludes modernist descriptions of itself and its effects.

It is only via discursive means that discourse can be valuated as more “real” than the un-sayable: and this tactic, is of course, on a philosophical discourse’s own terms question-begging. Not only this, but in careful observation the observer can immediately grasp the superficiality of any description or ordering of the inexpressibly different and eclectic elements of any experience, happening, being.

Thus the theory of description matters most.
It is the theory of the word for those

For whom the word is the making of the world,
The buzzing world and lisping firmament.

It is a world of words to the end of it,
IN which nothing solid is its solid self.
…
It matters, because everything we say
Of the past is description without place, a cast

Of the imagination, made in sound;
And because what we say of the future must portend,

Be alive with its own seemings, seeming to be
Like rubies reddened by rubies reddening. –Wallace Stevens

Warm Regards,
Michael