Plague Journal, Madness & The Ellipse of Meaning
…it is the world that must proceed to its own analysis.
It is the world, not reality, that must be revealed not as a truth, but as an illusion.
We must trap reality, we must go faster than reality. The idea too must go faster than its own shadow.
But if the idea goes too fast, even its shadow faints: no longer having the faintest idea… Words go faster than signification.
But if they go too fast, everything turns into sheer madness: an ellipse of meaning may even cause one to lose one’s taste for the sign. What can we exchange this work, this shadow, this intellectual economy and patience for? What can we sell it to the devil for?
— Excerpt, Radical Thought by Jean Baudrillard
These sentences make me shudder. I tremble with trepidation as when I heard that another young Black man has been shot in the course of a traffic stop in a suburb of Minneapolis. It seems an officer thought/imagined a Taser was in hand. Once the trigger was pulled, the rest was according to the laws of physics. A steel jacketed bullet functioned according to the purpose inscribed by its manufacturers. Daunte Wright is no more. He recedes into memory, no longer making history jointly with his children, and family members. Need I mention that Daunte Wright was Black?
I am not the one to analyze this event, nor are you. Upon reflection upon this and other recent events… Indeed does not meaning always follow, something that is seen in the rear-view mirror, in retrospect ? On the face of things what manner of society have we created for citizens of color? “Things” need not be as they are. We can make a different matrix of life for everyone. How to unmake this one?
“…it is the world that must proceed to its own analysis.”
Events come at us, given the proliferation of media, rapid fire, surreal, there’s not enough time to process the meaning. Meaning curves back upon itself, an ellipse of meaning. How deep is this rabbit hole? What is “this world” (America) that we have created? We are lost as in a dark forest.
“What can we exchange this work, this shadow, this intellectual economy and patience for? What can we sell it to the devil for?”
Courage! Here is a tune to hold on to. Where the Streets Have No Name by U2.
Where The Streets Have No Name
By U2
I want to run
I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I want to reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
I want to feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
Without a trace
I want to take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We’re still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It’s all I can do
The city’s aflood
And our love turns to rust
We’re beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust
I’ll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We’re still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It’s all I can do
Our love turns to rust
We’re beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see love
See our love turn to rust
We’re beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you
It’s all I can do
