On Meaning

I have never understood many a thing. I have often thought that I understood everything that comes across my mind, that enters my thoughts, that is processed and filed in my memory, as a picture, as a often do, a smell, which often is associated with people and food, a color with music, a series of mathematic operands that result in some enunciation or derivation of a "truth" or at least an immutable property--but I never realised how much information is available in the most common of things that goes unnoticed.

The very things that binds us, offer in return the most poignantly piercing gaze into our very souls. Words, sentences, speech, the very thing that is truly our own(our here referring to humanity) created of ourselves for ourselves, which in light of many shapes our very person, our desires. We live in a tyranny of signs. This order, each with its set of rules and regulations, common vocabulary with the necessary ambiguity, the multiplicity of meanings tied so wonderfully together a a symphony of voices, each with a part saying the same thing in a different way, the ambiguity always present, a little play, a little flex in the system. However, as with any system, even a seemingly chaotic one, the results can be predicted with some measure, mimicking a miniature, or perhaps even grander, use of the chaos theory. A singular being point with the ends slightly predictable, not exactly but they can be understood, at least to some extend. But as Derrida would argue we cannot understand completely anything, but we can understand when we are wrong. As he always seems to do, he wrote more on the subject, see one of his books, hah.

But is it not ironic, or rather a demonstration or the power of words, that those who grasp language, who understand the laws that govern communication (and desire, see Lacan) often assume the position of leader in a society. Not it is important to also say that these people may not be genius, for a study performed states that if one's IQ is 30 pts above someone else's, then they have a breakdown in communication. It happens. Digression is most enjoyable. But to continue on the topic, if there is one, the most successful leaders in terms of guiding people, of manipulation often have the art of rhetoric down to a tee. They understand how we think, what objects desires stroke our heart's burning furnace and how these fires can be maintained, controlled through verbiage. Thus it seems the victor always knows what to say, how to make us feel, through language. This is not a new concept by any means, and the theory has been there for a great while. Alcibiades with his speech to invade Syracusa, brilliant speech clouded the judgment of many rational learned men, but rational men do not act in a set manner. Rationality is often the root of erratic behaviour. Irrationality is predictable. Nicias, you tried, bud. So words can stroke a fire that leads to a war, words can make people fear, words can make people experience joy, words can make people give up liberties for some preconceived notion of desire (see Lacan). Words, words, words. Words shape our mind, our language or being, and understanding the system is power, is control over those who do not ex-sist, or those who too do not understand their own other.

Tehn, there is another caveat. Words in the form of conversation, in the form of letters(of which words are composed, but here we will limit the multiplicity and say, the "post"[no wonder Derrida giggled when he wrote]), instant messages, text messages, any form of communication using our human language, the language of the other. Now setting aside the "desires are not our own" concept, let us investigate what this exactly means. Language, communication involves divulging one's internal thought process, beyond what the words in themselves mean, beyond what the text implies, or maybe it is what the text implies, but it still remains that the communication, especially text, allows for one, the reader to investigate the discourse of the other in another. These forms of written communication, so precious, because they provide the deepest insight into the person who wrote them. The writer of the letter doesn't matter, to the meaning of the letter perhaps, but the intention, the decision that was made or what not made to write doesn't affect the reading of the letter per say, its existence is a given, but the text proves a medium, mediates the thoughts, the unconscious discourse of the other through to the reader, right before his/her eyes. It is all there. The text in itself, the unconscious discourse of the other of the other who wrote. Thus by communicating, by writing you can never not betray yourself. Your inner thoughts must and do manifest themselves in some way based on the structure of the unconscious which is the structure of language. So each symbol, each character is a betrayle of something deeper. A constant Freudian slip. Communication would be impossible without it.

Play is then essentially. Play is the ambiguity the multiplicity of words, not reading for one singular unified truth, but almost more for the metaphor that is the metaphor. It is a way of reading that is constant in itself for language needs play, the constant flipping of the center defined by the structure. Imagine if one looked for a singular unified meaning in flirting. It would be odd and almost improper, that is not to say that there isn't a singular unified meaning, but the search for that meaning must be coupled with the play of the language, the metaphor, the words not standing for themselves but as a series of signifiers that gives a multiplicity of meanings, especially based on the pneumatic element of flirtation. Thus play, in all of its forms is crucial, it is the infinite plane in the finite realm of language. For as Wittgenstein says, and I paraphrase for it has been a while, that my language is my world. Thus what exists in the real can be described by the structure the system of language, but it is the play that gives it infinite possibilities, in the system of language itself. But it is exactly this element of play that allows one to view into the structure of the text, into the structure created (text here) by some author and see how the play of the discourse of the other works itself out (literally) of the author's mind on to the paper/pad/cellphone screen/code.

Thus how to write a blog. I do not know really. It is not a journal by any means, and did you know that journal can get expensive man, I mean for real. My favourite ones are ~$10 per, with each lasting approximately 2-3 months depending on mood, thus my collection is massive both in terms of "real value" and in real, "real value," thus a blog is an attempt to share thoughts, though highly censored, or at least with an audience in mind, not just my mind sitting in the theatre. So, how to write, is a fundamental question, but it should prove to be interesting, and if you read this far down the page, you will soon realise that it is impossible to ever completely phase out your internal discourse from your communication. Perhaps it is some need to communicate some deep rooted feeling or emotion and that act makes us human, or perhaps it is the tyranny of signs which has such great a control that we cannot write without betraying our discourse, but it is worth the risk.