The Deformation

Posted on June 18, 2012


Postmodernism is a deformation (The Deformation). The loss of confidence in, faith in, Men who have a Narrative, in the understanding of the rational project, not voluntarily – it is not as in the Modernist aesthetic – since it marks a flight from reality – brings us to the main issue: is it a car is it a boat no it’s a bloat.  No rebellion is in evidence in this statement.  And the rational mode continues.  It is not as with Camus who was a Man who discovered his Narrative and who wanted to establish as an individualist the fact that he had not turned his back on the proposition of rationality’s true idea as a collective enterprise, because He was a Man who had a Narrative, in the decision to take charge of his world, because he was a mature adult – not like the fluff you see nowadays writing for the Standard – in order to picture and understand what reality was (so that within any given sense of it an individuality could be understood, so that that which is to be understood generally as a rationality remains in force) – it held its form.  It did not vanish, flatten into detail, demean itself with the non-ideal and so on because rather, as with a flood submerging a landscape the world we are in gives the individual no choice but to abandon the idea of rationality and understanding and take up things like watching television instead.  If you are to maintain a sense of reality, not in the ‘concrete material world’, which still appears as a clear-cut entity, even in the present day – so much as in the world beyond this clear cut world, which is to be found in the voids of myth, the voids of human intelligibility, the stresses to which it is subject have to be admitted because they make up the main force of what ensues: which inevitably coalesces into a species of farce.  But who is there who would want to believe this ? I don’t, clearly.  For who is there who is even capable of doing what is sensible and therefore doing nothing at all?   What is it that is there, right in front of our eyes, but quickly disappearing over the horizon that is to be sensed like the sensation of sand in your fingertips?

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