I've started to worry that I am pathetically reiterating, in a smaller register, something like Lennie Bruce's decline. In the Dustin Hoffman version, at least, we witness a fall into a narcissistic preoccupation that fails to stand for, or even resonate with, anything beyond Bruce's own particular troubles. Then I cheer up, sort of, by recalling that the entire blog form reeks of narcissism. This is satisfying for a couple of reason. First, it's nothing personal. Second, it iterates or encapsulates the contemporary phenomenon involving the decline of symbolic efficiency and corresponding convergence of the imaginary and the Real.
That was the preface.
Has anyone else wondered if the writers of South Park have been reading Zizek? Or if he has started secretly writing for them? The last two episodes have relied on the convergence of the Real and the imaginary. Last week: Bono is the Record. The Record doesn't stand for something; it isn't symbolic--it's Real. And, this week, all the action take for granted the loss of the symbolic and the convergence of the imaginary and the Real. This is simply the assumed background for larger questions regarding which imaginary. Here the presumed boundaries between the good and bad imagination that terrorists threatened to demolish had of course already been demolished: how else to account for the incredible violence of the destruction of the good sector (the American sector) of imagination land? The good imagination at its best was commercial, annoying, repetitive, stultifying, banal. It already included figures that some would deem scary. It was already inhabited by threats and fears. The wall blocking out the bad imagination is just another figure within imagination land, the imagining that the bad is separate or blocked off. At any rate, the imagination is/was inhabited by frightening figurings of extreme violence--bloody dismemberment, burning buildings, suffering children with big eyes, before the wall blocking it from the bad imagination was destroyed. And it was hilarious.
That was also a preface.
The imaginary is an undulating, endless, surface. It has protuberances, eddies, and sinkholes. But, these are dimensions without depth, or depths without meaning, without purpose or anchor. They can attach to an ally with the Real, but they don't tell us what it means; they don't open the Real to understanding. They might figure it, inducing new anxieties and fears.
The imagination land in my inbox: stories about spinach that ask "is our food any safer"? Something else from truthout, "America, land of fear?":
When did America change from "the land of the free" to the land of fear? When did we become a nation afraid of tubes of toothpaste and shampoo and water bottles? Who taught us to fear brown people in all their shades? What is it that makes us fear and despise oral sex more than torture? How is it that a nation founded on revolution and free speech now cowers in "free speech zones" and trembles at every utterance of its citizens? How in the heck did we come to dread the truth from 12-year-old children?
Are the question marks following "safety" and "fear" indications that we are in the imaginary? That the writers are too unsure to venture into the symbolic and offer something like meaning or understanding? Something that they might stand by? Something that might signify beyond itself? Yes.
It's a blurry, endless, space, just like imagination land, where all sorts of figures, seemingly different, are in a field of the same, multiplicity as sameness. There is no priority, no ranking, no judgment. One fear is as rational or viable as any other. No wonder there is no security. No wonder nothing is safe. Terrorists, spinach, dismemberment, monsters, and bad grades are all the same. We need to be secure from all of them. All are seemingly causes for our fears, although we might also ask whether they are simply outlets or opportunities for fear, ways to figure the intensity of affect that we now enjoy as substitutes for meaning.
What is good judgment in this environment? Someone I respect told me today that people have been talking about the events around my blog. Not about the posts, but about the reception (whose exactly?) of a couple of posts as itself an event, an object with discernible contours that has a structure and a content, a valence and an import of its own. This event seems to incite judgment: did I cross a line? Did I do something wrong? Should I have foreseen possible objections to some of my metaphors or images and then chosen otherwise? Some, it seems, some who talk about "this event" although it isn't clear to me what constitutes the event, to whom, and why, although for those who see "it" an "issue" these don't appear to be relevant questions or concerns, anyway, to some, the context of the event is Virginia Tech. Since Virginia Tech, the story goes, one cannot or should not use violent images or metaphors in any connections that may even potentially involve entities like students. People are afraid, edgy, so violent language is irresponsible.
I don't understand the sense of responsibility upon which this sort of argument relies. I can understand supporting gun control. I can understand opposing war. I can even understand instituting rating systems for computer or video games. Shoot (not, not really, I don't mean it, it's a figure of speech, a colloquialism prominent in the American south that I employ so as to appear humble and disarming, oh no, another potentially violent metaphor), I can understand the offensiveness and irresponsibility involved in stalker blogs, in repeated iterations of fantasies of revenge, in racism, etc. But I can't understand a claim that says that there are metaphors or images that are irresponsible on their own, particularly if the metaphors or images are clearly acknowledged to be metaphors or images. I can imagine other sorts of judgments--clumsy, inapt, childish--but these are aesthetic rather than moral judgments. (In fact, I would want to resist the urge to install a moralizing, censoring gaze, particularly insofar as I don't know what a morality of metaphors would entails.)
Is the problem, then, that the metaphors are Real? That they create fear and induce violence? And, would evidence for such a view consider such words as separate from a larger culture in which there is already, say, torture, regularly televised and supported by the Justice Department? And would the separation be relevant because the words occur in a separate and special place? And what is that place that is already protected, already safe and secure? Is that imagination land?
Or is the problem something else? Does it rest in marking the fact that violent images and thoughts appear where we may not want them to? Such terms add to the insecurity and rupture of an already precarious situation of symbolic decline. Is it possible then that the words create difficulty because they attempt to function on the symbolic level, to make frustration, anger, failure, and limit mean something in a context that wants to deny the ways that exchanges of opinion are not the same as exchanges of reasons, that tolerance is the flipside of violent exclusion and omission? (These are problems with which Zizek grapples in chapter six of The Ticklish Subject.)
SP HAS been reading the parallax view!!!
they are all about how people stare at shit in the toilet, a huge zizekian point. i believe he blames the holocaust on the design of the old german toilets.
Posted by: badiouian | October 19, 2007 at 07:33 AM
re the security and fear thing. i think it has to do with the play of distinction between us and the various brown folks outside the gated offworlds.
perhaps there is an uneasiness with the oppression fostered by the neocapitalist gulag archipeligo, a REAL if you will. and this uneasiness leads to a kind of backwards agency. eg "if i were my cleaning lady, i would steal from me." which explains the incredible paranoia folks have about letting brown skinned people into their homes-- thou said servants are far too cowed by the possibility of going a week without work, and thus food, rent, remittances, etc to actually go ahead and take more than perhaps a cup of water.
although this lamella of the real is potentially Utopian in its implications. this kind of discomfort and attributing agency to the terrorists etc to do what we think should be done even if we dont really mean it, can progress from a sort of BDSM scene, "hit me so hard, if I were you i would have hit me harder, but not THAT hard!" which is ill said into a germ of an articulated realization that the brown folks are not so different from us.
I know someone who went to Harvard Law, but before that spent seven years farming in California. And someone at a meal said something about how DIFFERENT the mexican culture is from OUR culture.
and this fellow responded that, no, he worked with them for seven years, and there wasnt that much difficulty relating.
Posted by: badiouian | October 19, 2007 at 07:43 AM
Jodianne I think instead of all these questions you should be asking yourself why you always want to win the marathon against yourself. Seldom have I seen such Calvinist rigor in an academic! Take it easy a bit and enjoy the fruits of your labor. If you don't enjoy what you do pretty soon all jouissance will be gone from your life.
Posted by: Dejan | October 19, 2007 at 10:38 PM
Didn't you just describe drive?
My first response (not what I wrote first) to your comment was (to me) horrifying: I immediately put you in the position of the analyst and thought of you as the subject who knows. I'm really curious as to why I would do this with a known parodist. Is it because parody captures or hits on truth? Or does it have nothing to do with that but rather with the fact that I affectively identify with the truth of the statement and feel recognized--"I do push myself too hard; why can't I just relax?"
Posted by: Jodi | October 20, 2007 at 10:42 AM
I think Mrs. Louella Parsons is right, as you agree, up to a point, of course...but, right now, I am most interested in the relaxation being applied to the disentangling of this siege-like thing if you think that might at least help (when it's possible, in really distressing circumstances, relaxing can seem not only impossible, but not even desirable, no matter if it would 'help') to vacillate between that and struggle. I am familiar with related situations and my experience is that you don't feel okay with yourself until you let the relaxation kick in, and then you don't want it to stay kicked in; but then when the struggle kicks in, you know you needed to start pushing again, but you don't want it to stay kicked in...
As for Louella's analysis, it seems correct in the sense that you do seem driven, but not quite complete in that you also do seem to get a lot of jouissance in life. The New Agers with their snake oil diagnoses would not seek you out as a likely candidate for pancreas cancer, due to 'not enough sweetness in life'...not that I think their diagnosis of multiple sclerosis as due to too much of a 'will of iron' or AIDS being caused by 'sexual guilt' really impresses me a lot either...
When I was plumping for Ava Gardner's career in glamour, I learned about what people really want, and Louella is proving to be an excellent pupil (should I say 'I shot her?' especially incendiary since I didn't? or was I just being cowardly by telling the truth about 'how I really didn't shoot Louella, my arch-rival in gossip, because angry parents would march in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Starlet, well-publicized by Kenneth Anger in 'Hollywood Babylon'? hell if I know if imaginary violence is Real? except I know it's not? the parents probably call out the Law on some New York Fairy for all I know...)
Parents, honey--if they ain't no flesh wounds, they ain't no violence, HELLO???? Anybody the fuck home???? Now, y'all ought to think about goin' on about y'bidness and give out some parkin' meter tickets to people in pick-up trucks with busted mufflers...anybody dip snuff and spit it on y'all's streets? Arrest 'em, baby, that's quality of life we're talkin', just like Mistah Rudolph Giuliani when we used to get fined for puttin' our feet on the seats for a second or two. Asshole talks to his bitch wife on cellphone in the middle of a speech--NO CLASS!!! NONE!!!--the fool...
Posted by: hedda hopper | October 20, 2007 at 12:28 PM
Hedda--I don't remember if ever mentioned to you my great aunt Johnnie. She looked just like Ava Gardner, and then later in life like poor Liz Taylor, later in life. At any rate, Johnnie was that particularly wonderful instance of a southern woman where white trash crosses in to glamour. She road shotgun for my great uncle during prohibition all along the Gulf Coast. Among his various activities was gambling. They did well together at cards, could read people well. He died in Vegas of a brain aneurism. She persisted in a large ranch style (late 40s design) home in Destin, Florida, something he paid for in cash, dragging out the money from where he kept them hidden in bags in his car. Also, Johnnie's name on her birth certificate was just 'baby girl'--her parents didn't know what to name her so they let her decide for herself when she was 16. At least that's the story, and now all those who knew it have passed.
Posted by: Jodi | October 20, 2007 at 02:12 PM
Jodianne this last one somehow sounds like Jodi Foster in THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, but I digress, yes I think parody by means of exaggeration comes close to a kind of diagnostics, and you needn't be a rocket scientist either to see that when people talk about others or pressing intellectual concerns, they invariably also talk about themselves. Apart from that I think already your ligaments and muscles know that you're an overachiever, and if you ignore your body's warnings you might end up somatizing your drive in ways far more unpleasant than a strained ankle, Jodianne. Hedda we are going to have to have a little discussion about your salary at the Parody Center, because if I remember well your contract didn't include proceeds from double agentry young lady!
Posted by: Dejan | October 21, 2007 at 04:56 AM
"Apart from that I think already your ligaments and muscles know that you're an overachiever, and if you ignore your body's warnings you might end up somatizing your drive in ways far more unpleasant than a strained ankle, Jodianne"
Mrs. Parsons is right about this one, but Jodianne already knows this as per when she first wrote it up. Nevertheless, Mrs. Parsons is to be commended for reminded her of this very obvious symptom, despite the fact that she knows little of so-called 'female narcissism' due to championing films like 'Carrie', which must be consigned to sub-poverty row dustbins...
Jodi--loved the story of Johnnie. Definitely my kind of thing, and almost skips over Flannery O'Connor into Erskine Caldwell! Very true about that amazing moment of transition from White Trash to Glamour--it's one of the most magical things in the history of Hollywood, and surely one that even Elizabeth Taylor noted in her failure to remain the World's Most Beautiful Woman indefinitely...I have friends who are permanently in process of trying to sell their house at Seagrove near Destin, which they ought not to, because as very rich, the older sister is just doing it to alleviate boredom and has no appreciation of beauty. Years ago, I used to go there and we'd drive to Destin itself, which had that old-fashioned kind of fantastic seafood place with the world's best shrimp, etc., but they closed due to not passing certain inspections...
Posted by: hedda hopper | October 21, 2007 at 12:16 PM
After the recent discussions on this blog about relevance, I feel that I have to underline that this might be a little off-topic (so please feel free to totally ignore my post and its questions, Jodi!). But somehow I saw the connection here, in your discussion on violence and safety, to a subject that fascinates me: soccer hooliganism.
A few years ago, Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols said something like, “In a time where nobody does anything, soccer hooligans at least do something.” I’ve been thinking a lot about those words lately when soccer hooliganism, partly with the help of two popular films describing the phenomenon directly, Football Factory and Green Street Hooligans (but also a film like Fight Club, which describes, and appeals to, the constant need to reinvent masculinity), has grown into something beyond sub-culture and received a cult status. Is it because hooligans at least do something?
I would love to hear your, or any of your often very brilliant readers’, opinion on the subject.
I don’t know how much you (or Americans in general) know about soccer hooliganism, but basically, what soccer hooligans do is that they create chaos and riots around matches by fighting both rivalling hooligans as well as the police. This happens on quite a massive scale in fairly well-structured (but perhaps crumbling) welfare countries like Holland, Germany and Sweden – and, which is very fascinating, with the involvement of men from all classes and walks of life. “Geezers need excitement” (jouissance?), a catch phrase from Football Factory, seems to have become the new slogan of masculinity. Every other teenager (boys, only boys, of course) here in Sweden, seems to be walking around these days dressed like hooligans in expensive British brands, talking like their idols in the films.
Basically all firms, as the groups of hooligans are called, are also free from political agendas (except in Israel, where firms are outspokenly Communists or Nazis (!?!), for example). In other words, they don’t have a cause or a goal – they risk their lives just because they like to fight (jouissance?). Perhaps it is an obscene question, but: Is there anything in soccer hooliganism, as Johnny Rotten seems to imply, worth admiring? Are they an unintentional vanguard force in the fight against western Societies of Control? Or is soccer hooliganism just another rotten expression of masculinity grown berserk?
Again: so off-topic it hurts…
/ Kaj - a reader who always, but somewhat vampiristically, enjoys this blog without ever contributing.
Posted by: Kaj | October 21, 2007 at 08:19 PM
Kaj--sorry it has taken me so long to respond. I think these are hard questions that you raise. One way that I think of them is in terms of reaction, that is, because some kind of actual action that can make a difference seems to be excluded, impossible, under globalized neoliberalism, acting out or senseless reactive violence appears as better than nothing, as an option that at least expresses some rage, that says no. As you suggest, it seems but an expression of jouissance, and hence a kind of pointless idiocy. Copying the violence as a fashion statement is a kind of idiotic enjoyment redoubled.
But does this mean it is admirable? And does admiring it mean anything political, like in admiring it is one saying that this is a key to or moment in another politics? I confess that it is difficult for me to see progressive potential in what you've described, even as I might admire a willingess to disturb and a desire to break free and push again. But it could be a kind of disruption that basically affirms and reinforces the established order more than anything else.
Posted by: Jodi | October 23, 2007 at 06:59 PM
My daughter informs me that the two-part Imagination Land episodes are lame and that your interpretation is wrong. To my knowledge they haven't gotten to Zizek in any of her ninth grade classes, so I might have to see for myself. I understand, though, that a creature from Imagination Land killed Kyle (those bastards!).
Posted by: ktismatics | October 25, 2007 at 07:20 PM
I haven't seen part two yet. Maybe your daughter has better taste than I do (actually, that seems to be clear already). My seventh grade son loved it, and my male college students. Maybe I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy or young men who act like 12 year olds.
Posted by: Jodi | October 25, 2007 at 08:43 PM
I wouldn't worry about taste -- she just watched (again) the episode where Stan's dad competes with Bono for producing the world's largest crap.
Posted by: ktismatics | October 26, 2007 at 07:07 PM