Gilles Deleuze; Desert Islands and Other Texts (1953-1974)

Gilles Deleuze | Desert Islands and Other Texts (1953-1974) (2003, Semiotext(e))/ Full book “One day, perhaps, this century will be Deleuzian,“ Michel Foucault once wrote. This book anthologizes 40 texts and interviews written over 20 years by renowned French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, who died in 1995. The early texts, from 1953-1966 (on Rousseau, Kafka, Jarry, Ponge, Artaud, etc.) belong to literary criticism and announce Deleuze’s last book, Critique and Clinic (1993). But philosophy clearly predominates in the rest of the book, with sharp appraisals of the thinkers he always felt indebted to: Spinoza, Bergson. More surprising is his acknowledgement of Jean-Paul…

Francis Ponge

LES FLEURYS, APRIL 8 1950 What attracted us to the P.C. at first was the revolt against the living conditions made for humans, the taste of virtue and the thirst of devotion to a cause grandiose enough. After that it was the disgust of sor- did protections, of humanitarian bleatings, of socialist verbosity and compromise (S.F.I.O.). The sentiment as to the exactions of capitalism should be opposed by methods at once energetic and supple, realistically, without illusions. We found, or believed to have found this in the Bolsheviks. The freeing of a serious sort, they seemed to us (set free…

riots and/or poetics [6/2018]

“[…] But here: distillation, composition, narrow-mindedness; and the oppressive summers: the heat isn’t without respite, but given that good weather is in everyone’s interests, and that everyone is a pig, I hate how summer kills me when it appears even briefly. […] The worst is that all of this will bother you as much as it will. It seems for the best that you read and walk as much as possible. Reason enough not to remain confined to offices and homes. Mindlessnesses must be given free reign, far from confinement. I am not about to be selling balm, but I imagine…

Jean-Marie Gleize; An invitation to disorder: poetry, insurrection, and concrete utopia.

  On November 11, 2008, the French government stormed what they called an “anarcho-autonomist cell,” a group who had set up a store in the small village of Tarnac in central France. Accused of “criminal conspiracy to commit a terrorist act,” the members of this group were suspected of having sabotaged the catenaries of a high-speed train. Although most of those arrested were released fairly rapidly, Julien Coupat, the presumed leader of the cell, spent more than six months in jail without trial, under “preventative arrest.” What is particularly striking about this situation, and generally in line with the effects…

Jean-Marie Gleize; “Where do the dogs go?”

‘Où vont les chiens ? ’, ‘Where do the dogs go?’,1 this question is posed by Baudelaire in the last ‘prose’ poem (in Spleen de Paris) in order to evoke a kind of literature that would correspond with urban, modern life – a kind of poetry which is adapted to those ‘sinuous ravines’ of the cities where the ‘poor’ roaming dogs are, the famished dogs. This question is also relevant to poetry: ‘where does poetry go?’, ‘where do the poets go?’. This question has troubled me for far too many years, and this is the reason why I cannot separate my poetic endeavours…