Filozofski fragmenti

  Bog Đorđo!

Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari - Tisuću Platoa: Kapitalizam i Šizofrenija 2 (1980)

jesi citao soluse? ili anti edipa?

Ja sam

Ne preporucujem

Oh da, mnogo više na engleskom i sa priručnikom njihovog prevodioca Masumija nego u našem prevodu, koji mi skuplja prašinu. Kada je Delez premeinuo sredinom devedesetih Žorž Pompidu je imao ogromanu izložbu umetnika inspirisanih njegovim delom. Znam da je Jerko Denegri dobio katalog enciklopedjskog gabarita i da je bio fazonu: Fuuuck, šta se sve SME u toj Francuskoj!


Antiedipi su sasvim čitljivi samo im je prošao trenutak...

ja sam uzeo anti edipa iz biblioteke pre 15ak godina i jako je tesko islo pa sam batalio

Delez nije preminuo nego se ubio

Anyways, sa njim francuski vitalizam je ono fazon zaokruzena prica

ja brate više stvarno ne kapiram ovog pinka

razume se u filozofiju i u moderne veš mašine

pritom sedi gajbi ređa čas stiropor po fasadi čas tračnice

i kaplje mu lova

who da fuck you are?!

Priča se po gradu da otkupljuje polovne vagone na mufte i pretapa ih u staro gvožđe...

mi komunisti se mozemo i u ptice maskirati

Brt ja ne volim da se eksponiram ali sticajem nekih okolnosti to mi se stalno desava

Sto bi rekli ova dvojica mrsomuda  -jebeno se multipliciram

Sto se tice kinte snalazim se ko svako, ali posto mi je to na dnu lestvice zivotnih prioriteta o tome nikada nisam morao da brinem

Ponedeljkom krećemo lagano:
kako je matematika uopšte moguća?

Taj snimak je nezvanično najveća dragocenost youtube.
Bilo je zabavo gledati kako Rorty, koji je već prozivao Derridu da je privatni filozof, u smislu da intelekt koristi u za strogo intimne preokupacije pa posledično izneverava njegovu javnu svrhu, sad sluša predavanje od jednog matorog profe Štajnera kako se ta obaveza izvodi u praksi. Čovek je francuski Jevrein i javno kaže da bi evropski holokaust mogao naći iskupljenje u zadovoljstvu čitanja "U potrazi za minulim vremenom" ako se čita pravilno.

Javite ovde ako vidite da je leakovalo...

David Graeber: After the Pandemic, We Can’t Go Back to Sleep

BYDAVID GRAEBER

In an essay penned shortly before his death, David Graeber argued that post-pandemic, we can’t slip back into a reality where the way our society is organized — to serve every whim of a small handful of rich people while debasing and degrading the vast majority of us — is seen as sensible or reasonable.

David Graeber speaks at Maagdenhuis Amsterdam in March 2015. (Guido van Nispen / Wikimedia Commons)




Before he tragically died at the untimely age of fifty-one in September 2020, the anarchist, anthropologist, and organizer David Graeber wrote this essay on what life and politics could look like after the COVID-19 pandemic. Jacobin is proud to publish Graeber’s essay for the first time.

At some point in the next few months, the crisis will be declared over, and we will be able to return to our “nonessential” jobs. For many, this will be like waking from a dream.

The media and political classes will definitely encourage us to think of it this way. This is what happened after the 2008 financial crash. There was a brief moment of questioning. (What is “finance,” anyway? Isn’t it just other people’s debts? What is money? Is it just debt, too? What’s debt? Isn’t it just a promise? If money and debt are just a collection of promises we make to each other, then couldn’t we just as easily make different ones?) The window was almost instantly shut by those insisting we shut up, stop thinking, and get back to work, or at least start looking for it.

Last time, most of us fell for it. This time, it is critical that we do not.

Because, in reality, the crisis we just experienced was waking from a dream, a confrontation with the actual reality of human life, which is that we are a collection of fragile beings taking care of one another, and that those who do the lion’s share of this care work that keeps us alive are overtaxed, underpaid, and daily humiliated, and that a very large proportion of the population don’t do anything at all but spin fantasies, extract rents, and generally get in the way of those who are making, fixing, moving, and transporting things, or tending to the needs of other living beings. It is imperative that we not slip back into a reality where all this makes some sort of inexplicable sense, the way senseless things so often do in dreams.



How about this: Why don’t we stop treating it as entirely normal that the more obviously one’s work benefits others, the less one is likely to be paid for it; or insisting that financial markets are the best way to direct long-term investment even as they are propelling us to destroy most life on Earth?

Why not instead, once the current emergency is declared over, actually remember what we’ve learned: that if “the economy” means anything, it is the way we provide each other with what we need to be alive (in every sense of the term), that what we call “the market” is largely just a way of tabulating the aggregate desires of rich people, most of whom are at least slightly pathological, and the most powerful of whom were already completing the designs for the bunkers they plan to escape to if we continue to be foolish enough to believe their minions’ lectures that we were all, collectively, too lacking in basic common sense do anything about oncoming catastrophes.

This time around, can we please just ignore them?

Most of the work we’re currently doing is dream-work. It exists only for its own sake, or to make rich people feel good about themselves, or to make poor people feel bad about themselves. And if we simply stopped, it might be possible to make ourselves a much more reasonable set of promises: for instance, to create an “economy” that lets us actually take care of the people who are taking care of us
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Erős Pista

David Graeber: After the Pandemic, We Can’t Go Back to Sleep

BYDAVID GRAEBER

In an essay penned shortly before his death, David Graeber argued that post-pandemic, we can’t slip back into a reality where the way our society is organized — to serve every whim of a small handful of rich people while debasing and degrading the vast majority of us — is seen as sensible or reasonable.

David Graeber speaks at Maagdenhuis Amsterdam in March 2015. (Guido van Nispen / Wikimedia Commons)




Before he tragically died at the untimely age of fifty-one in September 2020, the anarchist, anthropologist, and organizer David Graeber wrote this essay on what life and politics could look like after the COVID-19 pandemic. Jacobin is proud to publish Graeber’s essay for the first time.

At some point in the next few months, the crisis will be declared over, and we will be able to return to our “nonessential” jobs. For many, this will be like waking from a dream.

The media and political classes will definitely encourage us to think of it this way. This is what happened after the 2008 financial crash. There was a brief moment of questioning. (What is “finance,” anyway? Isn’t it just other people’s debts? What is money? Is it just debt, too? What’s debt? Isn’t it just a promise? If money and debt are just a collection of promises we make to each other, then couldn’t we just as easily make different ones?) The window was almost instantly shut by those insisting we shut up, stop thinking, and get back to work, or at least start looking for it.

Last time, most of us fell for it. This time, it is critical that we do not.

Because, in reality, the crisis we just experienced was waking from a dream, a confrontation with the actual reality of human life, which is that we are a collection of fragile beings taking care of one another, and that those who do the lion’s share of this care work that keeps us alive are overtaxed, underpaid, and daily humiliated, and that a very large proportion of the population don’t do anything at all but spin fantasies, extract rents, and generally get in the way of those who are making, fixing, moving, and transporting things, or tending to the needs of other living beings. It is imperative that we not slip back into a reality where all this makes some sort of inexplicable sense, the way senseless things so often do in dreams.



How about this: Why don’t we stop treating it as entirely normal that the more obviously one’s work benefits others, the less one is likely to be paid for it; or insisting that financial markets are the best way to direct long-term investment even as they are propelling us to destroy most life on Earth?

Why not instead, once the current emergency is declared over, actually remember what we’ve learned: that if “the economy” means anything, it is the way we provide each other with what we need to be alive (in every sense of the term), that what we call “the market” is largely just a way of tabulating the aggregate desires of rich people, most of whom are at least slightly pathological, and the most powerful of whom were already completing the designs for the bunkers they plan to escape to if we continue to be foolish enough to believe their minions’ lectures that we were all, collectively, too lacking in basic common sense do anything about oncoming catastrophes.

This time around, can we please just ignore them?

Most of the work we’re currently doing is dream-work. It exists only for its own sake, or to make rich people feel good about themselves, or to make poor people feel bad about themselves. And if we simply stopped, it might be possible to make ourselves a much more reasonable set of promises: for instance, to create an “economy” that lets us actually take care of the people who are taking care of us
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+1e9

Pesnik Vladimir Majakovski (1893-1930) daleke 1909. godine bacio je u lice svojim sugrađankama i sugrađanima 10 poruka o revoluciji. Zbog tih 10 poruka proveo je 10 meseci na robiji:

1. Revolucija počinje - kada ljudi više ne prihvataju nezadovoljstvo kao normalno stanje, a vi ćutite, građanke i građani!
2. Revolucija počinje - kada se bes gladnih ne može kupiti novcem sitih, a vi ste gladni, građanke i građani!
3. Revolucija počinje - kad radnici odbiju da budu robovi i otmu ono što im pripada, a vi ćutite, građanke i građani!
4. Revolucija počinje - kad moralni zakon ne postoji, a pisani zakoni se primenjuju samo na sirotinji, a vi ste sirotinja, građanke i građani!
5. Revolucija počinje - kad država ponižava stare, a hapsi ili proteruje mlade, a vi ćutite, građanke i građani!
6. Revolucija počinje - kad narod služi vlastima, a ne vlast narodu, a vi služite, građanke i građani!
7. Revolucija počinje - kad umetnici prestanu da budu kukavice i progovore na sav glas, dok vi ćutite, građanke i građani!
8. Revolucija počinje - kad su zabranjeni slobodna reč i slobodna misao, a vi ste zabranjeni, građanke i građani!
9. Revolucija počinje - kad posla i hleba ima samo za one koji cara slave i hvale, a vi ćutite, građanke i građani!
10. Revolucija počinje - kad policija, vojska i službe bezbednosti nisu čuvari slobode, već okupatori sopstvenog naroda, a vi ste okupirani građanke i građani!

"In his letter, Wittgenstein was attempting to clarify one of the basic dilemmas of linguistic philosophy, in response to a reservation Russell had expressed after reading his manuscript “twice, thoroughly.” It concerns essentially the rules established within that logical symbolism, upon which, for Wittgenstein, any meaningful statement is based. Needless to say, Wittgenstein’s propositions can also be read as a defiant defense of his own situation. He was ultimately determined to blaze trails on behalf of the symbol that was Wittgenstein, away from the labor, duties, and other contexts that had previously given significance to his life. Perhaps his relatives and closest friends might have been able to understand that by shedding his fortune, he had freed himself for a radical new start, but his intention to abnegate his own talent caused profound consternation, particularly among his siblings. Wittgenstein’s eldest sister, Hermine, the one closest to him, recalled:

I was at first unable to understand his second decision, to opt for a completely unremarkable profession and perhaps to become a country schoolteacher. Since we, his brothers and sisters, very often communicate with each other in analogies, I told him during a long conversation that when I imagined him with his philosophically trained mind as a primary school teacher it felt to me as if someone were trying to use a precision instrument to open crates. Ludwig replied with an analogy that silenced me. He said, “You remind me of someone who is looking through a closed window and cannot explain to himself the strange movements of a passerby; he doesn’t know what sort of storm is raging outside and that this person is perhaps only with great effort keeping himself on his feet.” 

This graphic image, memorialized by the genius’s sister, speaks to all the significant problems and potential solutions in Ludwig’s life. First, there was the overall sensation, which he had had since early youth, of being separated somehow from the world of his fellow humans by an invisible barrier, or pane of glass—an unsettling feeling of fundamental difference, which had been further reinforced and heightened by the experiences of the war years. At its peak, this feeling slipped into a sense of intellectual exclusion (or confinement) and exposed him to the uncontrollable idea that his life was without meaning. Outwardly he could be completely unable to act, while furious storms raged within.
Recent research has suggested that Wittgenstein may have suffered from a mild form of autism, a developmental disturbance that manifests in early childhood and is often accompanied by remarkable abilities in the fields of mathematical analysis and music, and reveals itself in the form of fixed patterns of action and very restricted social skills. It’s entirely possible. At any rate, a metaphorical “wall” or “window” separating one’s own experience from the world of others is among the most pertinent and common self-descriptions of those suffering from depression. Wittgenstein’s notebooks and letters from 1919 through 1921, with their constant recourse to the idea of redemptive suicide, leave us in no doubt: during those months and years he was going through various phases of acute depression.
Setting our clinical suspicions aside, the notion that his access to the so-called world outside, and to all the others “out there,” was at a fundamental level disturbed or distorted effectively sums up the founding doubt of Western philosophy: Is there something that separates us from the true nature of things? The actual experiences and sensations of others? And if so, who or what could it be?
Plato’s parable of the cave already relies on the assumption that the world as we perceive it is in fact one of only shadow and appearance. About two thousand years later, in the actual founding document of modern epistemological and subjective philosophy, René Descartes’s Meditations, written in 1641, we can see an analogy that gives concrete form to Wittgenstein’s simile of the person behind the “closed window.” Descartes begins one of his experiments in doubt with an initially straightforward view from his fireside seat in his own room out into the street. He questions whether all the pedestrians he sees passing in the rain outside are really people—or perhaps only “machines” wearing coats and hats.4 What, as a thinking subject closed in behind the brain’s pane of glass, do any of us know about what is really going on inside anyone else? What storms rage within them? Or perhaps there is nothing at all happening in there—is there really complete and permanent calm?

 What storms rage within them? Or perhaps there is nothing at all happening in there—is there really complete and permanent calm?
WITH HIS RETORT TO HERMINE, then, Wittgenstein called upon one of philosophy’s most distinguished images of the inescapable problem of epistemology: the extent to which we, trapped as we are entirely within the internal space of our own experiential subjectivity, can have any reliable knowledge whatsoever of the outside world, or connect with the interiority of others. As we have seen, this question was for Wittgenstein much more than an exercise in armchair skepticism. Rather, this doubt constituted a constant and burning issue even in his most mundane actions and interactions, indeed his entire relationship with the world. Here we have a man returning from the war, who has over the previous seven years devoted all of his intellectual energy to the expression of his own thoughts, including those about this problem, as clearly and unambiguously as possible, in the form of a logical and philosophical treatise.
In the autumn of 1919, Wittgenstein had to admit failure. Even for his most knowledgeable contacts—Gottlob Frege, Bertrand Russell, and the architect Paul Engelmann, to each of whom Wittgenstein had sent a copy of the manuscript—his work was largely incomprehensible.
As noted, however, the analogy in Hermine’s memoirs reveals not only the set of fundamental existential problems with which Wittgenstein had to cope throughout his life, but also their solutions. Because with the precision of that image of the man battling the storm outside the “closed window,” Wittgenstein had in fact managed to “open his window,” that is, to successfully make a connection with another and thus escape from his own psychic isolation into the freedom of being understood.
Readers clearly know from Wittgenstein’s image what his internal life was like a century ago; they even know it with at least the same precision and clarity with which Wittgenstein knew it himself at that moment in 1919. Thanks to the miracle of language, then, the pane of glass has ceased to exist, either for him or for us.
If we look more closely, Wittgenstein’s entire philosophical oeuvre, and especially his later work, is run through with metaphors and allegories of liberation, of exits and escapes. Not just his famous answer to the question “What is your aim in philosophy?” “To shew the fly the way out of the fly-bottle!”5
The activity of philosophizing, and this was Wittgenstein’s lifelong hope, opens the window to an active, immediate, and meaningful existence with others, the freedom that in the Tractatus he calls “happiness.” Thus this opening is a window to “another world,” because “the world of the happy is quite another than the world of the unhappy”"



Super je knjižica, ono poglavlje o Raselu i Berberinu koji brije sveone i samo one koji se sami ne briju pa zašto onda Svet ne postoji  je mala bravura.

Ima je u audio formatu OVDE.

Čekam nove uploadove...

One of the greatest thinkes AlIvE ToDaY and arguably oNe Of tHe MoSt ImPOrtAnT AT LEAST ThE PasT CenTuRY!



Podkast kanal je inače vrh:

ja sam poslusao ceo michel serres serijal na tom hermitix-u pre par meseci koji je bio onako, okej.

ovo ostalo gde god da sam zabo van serres serijala sve neki libertarijanci, akceleracionisti i slicni dork enlightenment frikovi