Random Theory

The real, in a Lacanian sense, is bigger than the sum total of human knowledge, if only by mass; we can at least know that what we don’t yet know is bigger than what we know, if only because we can see so many places, out in space, that we haven’t yet been able to visit.  But language–human reality–gets the upper hand and becomes the predator, the master and quantifier of even the unknown, through that one little word, articulated whenever necessary: ‘yet’.  Even if there is an infinitude that we don’t know, even that infinitude only ever gets smaller, since what we know generally only ever gets bigger.

Random Theory

So, I was just minding my own business, transcribing some of my notes, when *BAM!*:


And then, the next moment, he’s so close you can see the brushstrokes…

‘Because, even if the bystander becomes important, independently popular within their own narrative realm, aren’t they then just put on a path to somehow interact with that realm’s superhero as a kind of Hegelian recognition?’
Hegel really is there, at the end, waiting around so he can pop out and tell us he’s been there the whole time.
He’s kind of a dick that way.