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Jürgen Smit; Dutch poet, asemic writer, doodler artist,

Jurgen vrouw

Jurgen Smit, 2015

& indexer of poets who died young (before 35 i believe; things cld ve been worse. Could they not? How would i know.. have writers with their mojo crowing, truly seen something in life that is to much for anyone, too much for themselves, and that , that has put on them, the quiet mark of death”, as Deleuze once had it? (What is Philosophy (PDF), p. 172)). Meh. He also writes, “But this something is also the source or breathe that supports them through the illnesses of the lived… ‘Perhaps one day we will know that there wasn’t any art, but only medicine.’ ” (Nietzsche). Michaux too, apparently, spoke of a ” ‘health’ peculiar to art.” (WP, p. 230, n. 11).

Obituary writer, Margalit Fox, sure as shux has some profound thoughts for us on the matter; intriguingly & movingly elucidated on an audio interview at the Longform Journalism podcast.

You do get emotionally involved with people, even though as a journalist you’re not supposed to. But as a human being, how can you not? Particularly people who had difficult, tragic, poignant lives. But there are also people that you just wish you had known. And, of course, the painful irony is that you’re only getting to know them by virtue of the fact that it’s too late.

Similarly, intellectual historian Jennifer Hecht, argues passionately, thoughtfully, & in moments even convincingly (altho the suicider needs no convincing) against suicide. Certainly, writing as such is already a kind of suicide; an encounter, or entanglement with the webs of unspeakable, &, yet, living to tell the tale. Asemic writing – writing that only looks like writing – perhaps approaches closer, from another angle certainly, the demise it carries within; a cancer, or a budding, never before seen, blossom.

Suicide

__    __    __

The singular immanence of a life, ever shimmering from a place yet to come, & long past; excess of flows; evasive, tantalizing depthless abysses everywhere we look. Yet, I see more sense in drawing from this evanescent, evasive bliss, channels of force, bubbles of pulse; rather than allowing a self to disappear into the indiscernible (unless there is a reason; there can be a reason).

__    __   __    __

Suucide

__   __   __   __

This reason tho. Better be a damned good ‘un. For, with Deleuze, I reckon, being bathed in the immediate, overwhelming whirlpool chaos of life, can be a blissful, full experience, just as much as it can be an unbearable dead-end. No way out but out. A way over-quoted passage by Dickens, is used by Deleuze (in “Immanence, a Life” (PDF)) to illustrate this liminal flickering between the life of an identifiable person, an individual, with social and other ties, to a world told to him & by him as a story; & this individual’s life as a life, a singular, vitalistic, material force, immanent to, interconnected with, its material surroundings, in the form of flows & fluxes of variously condensed & affective energies.

What is immanence? A life… No one has described what a llfe is better than Charles Dickens, if we take the indefinite article as an index of the transcendental. A disreputable man, a rogue, held in contempt by everyone, is found as he lies dying… Between his life & his death, there is a moment that is only that ofa life playing with death. The life of the individual gives way to an impersonal & yet singular life that releases a pure eventfreed from the accidents of internal & external life, that is, from the subjectivity & objectivity of what happens … it is a haecceity np longer of individuation but of singularization: a life of pure immanence, neutral, beyond good & evil, for it was only the subject that incarnated it that made it good or bad. The life of such individuality fades away in favor of the singular life immanent to a man who no longer has a name, though he can be mistaken for no other. A singular essence, a life …

+   +   +   +

FLICKERING, SCRIBBLING, SONNET

In any case, Jürgen Smit, very awesomely, dedicated a sonnet to mwah mwuhshelf mehmeh. At the time I dinna put it up.. too self-regarding, duh. Now I could not give fewer fucks (or bags of dicks as Louis (C.K.) wld say no?) which – without saying it might go, yet am gonna say it – diminishes not 1 particle of an iota, my deep, blush & girly giggle, & reinforcement in the belief of original conflict (in the sense of an entanglement of forces, not an argument or anything silly like that) being inherently productive, creative, proliferating, blissful, vibrant. Therefore, i genuflect, i curtsy, curvature, kowtow, salaam.

__    __    __

Jurgen Smit

Jurgen Smit

direct io n   swi vvl e de ser rt lull abide + +  + +

Jurgen Smit,

Jurgen Smit, Schaduw, 2014

___     ____      ___      ___ & adendum 1 translation of a poem of his own wpid-img_20150427_062025222.jpg.jpeg

an you not? Particularly people who had difficult, tragic, poignant lives. But there are also people that you just wish you had known. And, of course, the painful irony is that you’re only getting to know them by virtue of the fact that it’s too late.

Similarly, intellectual historian Jennifer Hecht, argues passionately, thoughtfully, & in moments even convincingly (altho the suicider needs no convincing) against suicide. Certainly, writing as such is already a kind of suicide; an encounter, or entanglement with the webs of unspeakable, &, yet, living to tell the tale. Asemic writing – writing that only looks like writing – perhaps approaches closer, from another angle certainly, the demise it carries within; a cancer, or a budding, never before seen, blossom.

Suicide

__    __    __

SELF-FRAGILE / GENTLE / SWAY / SCRIBBLE SONNET

The singular, excess of flows, light depthlessness of life.. it can drive one to creative frenzy, or empty circuits of abyssal pushing away, of nothing but one s very movement, momentum. The former, think I will go for that one..

In any case, Jürgen Smit, very awesomely, dedicated a sonnet to mwah mwuhshelf mehmeh. At the time I dinna put it up.. too self-regarding, duh. Now I could not give fewer fucks (or bags of dicks as Louis (C.K.) wld say no?) which – without saying it might go, yet am gonna say it – diminishes not 1 particle of an iota, my deep, blush & girly giggle, & reinforcement in the belief of original conflict (in the sense of an entanglement of forces, not an argument or anything silly like that) being inherently productive, creative, proliferating, blissful, vibrant. Therefore, i genuflect, i curtsy, curvature, kowtow, salaam.

__    __    __

Jurgen Smit

Jurgen Smit

direct io n   swi vvl e de ser rt lull abide + +  + +

Jurgen Smit,

Jurgen Smit, Schaduw, 2014

___     ____      ___      ___ & adendum 1 translation of a poem of his own wpid-img_20150427_062025222.jpg.jpeg

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