Monday, January 17, 2011

Well, You Needn't

"Return, once again, to the body. Imagine it as a fold of flesh, pressed, like linen, impressed but not creased--an inclination, an arc, a gesture, a fold.
In motion the body turns on points of opposition. Like discus competitors, the body as vortex, winding up and releasing such immense energy.
The unfurling, distending salute: the casting--that which is simultaneously frozen and suspended in the idealization of memory (the Image Repertoire of Barthes's Lover), and that act of casting-away as in a pair of dice.
(The democratic practice par excellence of drawing lots as a queer combination of an abnegation of personal responsibility--no one will choose to lead, but each will submit to fate--and the acceptance of conditional agency once office must be suffered.)"

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