Read After Burning, I pray You, or la carte posthume
Les Dernier Mots and Other “Lacanuae”
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Les Dernier Mots and Other “Lacanuae” Jacques Derrida may be reasonably presumed dead, of course. I have tried to show that asking whether deconstruction will survives its death, a question Derrida addressed in 1994, in Derrida’s name, is the wrong question to ask. 133 To address that question will produce defensive psychobiographies and thematic, pre-critical reshelvings of Derirda’s writings, key word by key word. The question of the survival of deconstruction is a question, properly or improperly, about the survial of a practice without a name, a practice that overlaps with psychoanalysis yet cannot be separated rom it. Let me “Speculate –On ‘Derrida’” for a moment. Derrida might have rethought the distinction he makes between posthumous writing in general and strictly posthumous generations of readings to come—had he remembered what he said earlier in the seminar, namely, that “Freud reminds us” of something crucial about the phantasm, perhaps even remembering what Derrida said about Freud in the Sixth Session of the Seminar?134 Did Derrida forget psychoanalysis?135 Did he ever forget it? Did ever forget Freud or Lacan?136 Who can say? If we can say that all readings of what sur-vives or lives on of Derrida’s writings after his death will be about what he will not have said and would not have said, and I am not saying we can, we can also say Derrida’s account of Pascal’s paper as a note destined to be read depends on Derrida’s belief in its indestructibility, one might even says its indivisibility, and hence its undeconstructibility.137 Does the word “fire” in Pascal’s note make the poem difficult to read because one cannot read while burning? Does the endlessness of burning here, the collapse of a fire lit before and its aftermath, mean that one can only gloss the poem while making the limits of any such glossing impossible to determine, extending glossing well past the determination of the meaning of a word, phrase, sentnece, or passage that glossing apparently delivers or is commonly thought to deliver to reading? Is Pascal’s note itself a gloss, his shirt a kind of urn burial or portable columbarium for it? Does glossing necessarily gloss over itself? In isolating Pascal’s note as a strictly posthumous publication, Derrida forgets that all of Pascal’s Pensées were published posthumously in 1670, along with this note, in the same book.138 The distinction Derrida draws between strictly and generally posthumous writing is not at all rigorous, and indeed depends in the case Derrida singles out on factoring out the facteur, on forgetting the mailman, in maybe untenable only in very different ways, and the forgetting of the servant’s name who sent off the note, the servant whose name was already forgotten by the Father. Let Derrida have the lost words, so to speak, or “ghlost” words: “And moreover I obey at every moment without seeming to: to burn everything, forget everything . . . and while driving I held it on the steering wheel.”139 After-Peace One still has to take note of this. And to finish that Second Letter: “. . . Consider these facts and take care lest you sometime come to repent of having now unwisely published. It is a very great safeguard to learn by heart instead of writing. . . . What are now called his . . . Sokratous estin kalou kai neou gegonots . . . are the work of a Socrates embellished and modernized. Farewell and believe. Read this letter now at once many times and burn it . . . .” --I hope this one won’t get lost. Quick, a duplicate . . . graphite . . . carbon . . . reread this letter . . . burn it. Il y a là cendre. And now to distinguish between two repetitions.” “I hope this one won’t get lost. Quick, a duplicate . . . graphite . . . carbon . . . reread this letter . . . burn it. . . . And now to distinguish between two repetitions.” --Derrida, “Play: From Pharmakon to the Letter” in “Plato’s Parmacy” in Dissemination, 170-71 -- also cited in Derrida, Cinders III, 56, the whole part with the end up to “And now to distinguish between two repetitions” and Cinders n. IV, p. 58. “Bye Bye that Song Bye Thank You Like You Love You See You Next Time Bye Miss You”
“41. In the session, Derrida added nothing here.” Jacques Derrida, The Beast and the Sovereign 2, 277. The last chapter of Freud’s Beyond the Pleasure Principle “adds nothing . . seems to add nothing” (Post Card, 386; 387). 
“The unfortunate effect of all this is to give a large can of petrol and a flame-thrower to those prejudiced types who would like to terminate not Shakespeare but the “queer theory” which is currently the hottest thing on the American academic scene.” , Review of Richard Burt, Unspeakable (1998); TLS 28 May 1999 Richar Burt Read After Burning, I Pray You, or la carte posthume:: Derrida Destroyed . . . "Its susceptibility of being produced?" said I. "That is to say, of being destroyed," said Dupin. Having alrady taken advantage of the time I have been given, having given myself as a rule not to return or refer to the book I have just published on the gift and currency, I will content myself with recounting in the from of an elliptical epilogue, a true story. Something that recently happened to me at a train station. It made me and continues to make me think. I will tell it without commentary, but we can return to it in the discussion. It is not a story about a bank credit card. Nor is it a question of those coded cards with which we are able to draw bills from walls after having shown one’s credentials to cash distributing machines. It is about a telephone card, already partially used, but used to a degree that could neither measure nor calculate. I had just called, using this card, from the Gare du Nord around midnight, having returned from Lille. A young English couple next to me was in front of a telephone machine that took coins. The machine wasn’t working, and the English couple didn’t have a card. Having dialed the number for them with my card, I left it with them, and just as I was walking away, the young Englishman offered to pay e, without knowinghow or how much: I made a gesture with my hand to signifiy no, thatit was a gift and that, in any case, I didn’t want any money. The whole thing lasted several seconds and I asked myself, and I think the answer is not possible for a thousand reasons that I will not go into, whetherI had given something , and what, or how much, how much money, by helping them to do not just anything—but simply call someone far away by telephone. And for some reason, which I do not have time to develop, just asI did not have time to think at the Gare du Nord, there si no way to asnwer the question of knowing if there was something which one out to be congratulated, narcissistically, for having given, whether out of generosity or not, something, money or not. And to whom. If we had time for a discussion, I would try to convince you that there cannot be and, what is more, that there should not be, an answer to satisfy these questions. And thus one cannot, and should not, know—whether there was a gift. Into the bargain [par-dessu le marché]. Derrida, “On the ‘Priceless,’ or the ‘Going Rate’ of the Transaction” In Negotiations. 3267-28
Derrida has already mentioned running out of time 321 (middle of the essay, recalling the beginning) and 314 (first page). He is so caught up in the question of the gift, sacrfiice, and time htat he forgets to ask if the call went through, if the couple reached the person they called. Perhaps Derrida saw that they did reach that person. But he does not say so. Perhaps he walked off before the connection went through just assuming it would. Nor does he consider that the call could have lasted only a few seconds. The card installs a kind of gambling that Derrida overlooks since the amount on the acrd is finite and perhaps too small to permit the call—can the call go through on this card? Can the conversation the couple wishes to have happen? Did it happen? Or was there too little oney debited to the card or it to happen, or happen successufully. The story may not be about a bank credit card, but it is a story about a blank credit card. While the amount of money on the card is finite, the credit is seemingly infinite. Derrida does not check his blank check telephone line of credit. It’s a kind of Ronellian moment. The card ensures that the call will be received, that the person will pick up, and those who are far away will be closer. Another S.P., agreed . . . , but I would put my hand into the fire, it’s really the only one. For the rest, they will understand nothing of my clinamen, even if they are sure of everything, especially in that case, the worst one. Especially there where I speak, they will see only fire. On this subject, you know that Freud’s Sophie was cremated. 255 Marie Bonaparte went through Freud's papers and correspondence and burned some items that would have been dangerous had they fallen into Nazi hands. Then the remaining files of papers and letters . . . were labeled and shipped along with the family’s other effects. . . . The files of papers were stored away in a house at 20 Maresfield Gardens, which became the family’s permanent home in the autumn of 1938, and where Freud died on 23 September 1939. There the letters rested, surviving another kind of holocaust, the air raids of the Second World War, and afterwards, amidst the concerns of the Freud family with the immediacies of life and profession, the letters were seemingly forgotten. Jung’s letters from Freud lay undisturbed for nearly forty years. For a time he kept them in what he called his ‘cache,’ a narrow safe set in the wall of an alcove ad The ‘cache,’ which was locked with a key that Jung carried in his pocket, also contained, among other valuables, the four ments of a breadknife that had shattered when he was experimenting with occultism as a student. ix-xx. Private communication from Miss Freud, who added, ‘Otherwise what we performed were really works of rescue. There was too much accumulated material to take with us to London, and my father was all for throwing away much of it, whereas Princess Bonaparte . . . [sic] was all for preservation. Therefore she rescued from waste-baskets which my father had thrown there.’ The account given by [Ernest] Jones (III, p. 238/233), of burning everything not worth preserving, is not quite exact. xix, n26 We will always wonder what, in this mal d’archive, he may have burned. We will always wonder, sharing with compassion in this archive fever, what have burned of his secret passions, of his correspondence, or of his “life.” Burned without limit, without remains, and without knowledge. With no possible response, be it spectral or not, short of or beyond suppression, on the other edge of repression, originary or secondary, without a name, without the least symptom, and without even an ash. Naples, 22-28 May 1994 Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression, “Postscript,” 101 The Freud/Jung Letters: The Correspondence between Sigmund Freud and C. G Jung By Sigmund Freud, C. G. Jung, xix Wha Derrida spells out asa reading—repeitions and subsituttions—of Purloined Letter. Reading he spells out of eyond the Pleasure Principle Our only chance for survival now, but in what sense, would be to burn everything, in order to come back to our initial desire. Whatever “survival” it might be a question of, this is our only chance, I mean common chance. I want to start over. Shall we burn everything? That’s this morning’s idea, when you come back I’ll talk to you about it—as technically as possible. (One of several entries / letters / post cards dated “January 1979”), 171 From the moment he published it and even if he had not published it, from the moment he wrote it and constituted it by dedicating it to his “dear friend,” the presumed signatory (Baudelaire or whoever signed this text beneath the patronymic and accredited signature of Baudelaire—for let us not be so gullible as to believe that the dedicatee goes no further than Arsene Housaye), from the moment he let it constitute itself in a system of traces, he destined it, gave it, not only to another or in general to others than his “dear friend” Arsene Housaye, but delivered it—and that was giving it—above and beyond any addressee, done, or legatee (we are speaking here of an unconscious figure represented by a determinable, bordered configuration of public and readers). The accredited signatory delivered it up to dissemination without return. Given Time: 1: Counterfeit Money, 100 The premises of this unpublished seminar remain implied, in one way or another, in l later works that were all devoted, if I may put it that way, to the question of the gift. . . . Foreword, x Posthumography raises arguably psychoanalytic as well as deconstructive questions about how Derrida’s archive mis/management Derrida is “to be” read, about what has been left to be read and about how reading is a practice to be, unlimited, the definition of the unreadable always to be reopened.140 These questions about what remains to be read and the decease of reading Derrida’s writings are also biopolitical questions, or, more precisely, biobibliopolitical questions concerning the archival operations by which performed all the time by editors and translators on all of Derrida’s publications, unpublished materials, and posthumous publications, a question that extends to the archiving and self-archiving operations Derrida performed on the writings he wrote about, including his own works, from which he sometimes quoted, sometimes including handwritten notebooks as well as published works.141 [See also Derrida on his own reading—impatient, impertient; and on the good reader and the bad reader] These bibliographic protections are themselves self-corroding, I maintain, and the effects of their corrosion, corrosion produced by bibliographical logic that limits, forgets, neglects, consigns to oblivion data, effects that are structurally excluded from whatever is said, assumed, or taken to survive through publication. Editing and translating often produce the same kinds of corrision effects, often paraadoxically in an effort to repair a text. Derrida’s works into English sometimes supply as much information about each version of a text while others think that the most recent renders others obsolete, the last version being the supposedly definitive version.142 This bibliographic, editorial, and translative logic glosses over—renders unreadable and even impossible to mourn, as in “you need not have read that so I don’t need to tell you about what you’re missing”--Derrida’s own self-corroding (re)publication practices and his idosyncratic bibliographic practices, his frequent omissions of bibliographic information both in the body of his text and in his footnotes, omissions which are sometimes filled in by his English translators, sometimes not, as well as his attention to the titles of published works (Parages) and the corruption of titles, or use of “faux-titres,” perhaps better called “feu-titres” or even “fou-titres.”143 “The title has been proposed by the editors. For reasons that will become clear in the reading, this text did not present itself under any title. “The Double Session” in Dissemination Trans Barbara Johnson University of Chicago Press, 1983),173. In Dissemination, Derrida retains the title the editors gave his two part article. Moreover, this logic glosses over Derrida’s notes which promise future publications, promises that Derrida sometimes fulfilled (Given Time 1) and sometimes did not. What I am calling the reshelving or archival operations of posthumography delimit a given text as a single text, an unpublished, published, or republished text in order to render it readable as text signed off and sent off under a signature and a proper name, thereby permitting what Derrida often calls an “internal” reading, even as he sometimes questions whether an internal reading is ever really possible, or the demarcation of a scene of reading of effects, whether noticed or not, to be deconstructed, scene that stores the not yet read and appears to guarantee that what is “to be” read has always already been sent.144 These biobibliopolitical questions are also psychoanalytic questions as they are irreducible in advance to a so-called ethics of reading, however, as if one could decide what reading carefully was and what carelessly was, as one could ever do justice by reading everything. Posthumographic reading, like all reading, is necessarily a politics of reading that is “err-responsible.” Since it is an archival or reshelving operation according to bibliographical norms publication, posthumographic reading, involves omissions of information, not limited to “editorial data,”145 that do not default to the staus of a clue, evidence, symptom, detail and do not have the significance Derrida accords Freud’s omission, in Beyond the Pleasure Principle, of Socrates (Post Card, 344), Lacan’s omission of stories by Poe other or Lacan’s omission of Marie Bonaparte, Paul de Man’s omission of two words from a quotation from Rousseau that Derrida discusses in “Typewriter Ribbon, Ink (2),” and so on on.”146 The kinds of omissions, or self-corroding effects of publication and what surives to be read, normally or otherwise, I attend to in Derrida’s works are idiosyncratic because they are errors, self-cremations that do not amount to self-incriminations, but are more like quasi-illegal driving that sometimes crosses the line.147 These omissions involve the ways in which Derrida preps a published work for reading, and hence shelves what is not to be read, what can be skipped, what is insignificant, what is effectively invisible; these omissions of information related translations and publications may be likened to wounds, perhaps just scratches, that have been covered up, bandaged, hence repressed. But even if they have been repressed, the do not necessarily fall in line with repetition compulsion, the death drive, the uncanny fort-da, chance, destiny, and so on, not that any of those terms is unified or definable. Thus, I will not be writing a Psychopathology of Derrida’s Everyday Life.As an archiving operation, posthumography is conerned not only with posthumous publication or thanatography but with what is “to be” read, what suruvives rests on how the boundaries of publication are drawn, what counts as published or unpublished. Publication is a question of surviv-ability, of what publication renders not to be read of whatever survives. A given text’s survival is subject to the conditions and structures of of publish-ability, a neologism that may be divided and recombined into a cluster of others, including unpublish-ability, republish-ablility, and pre-publishability, all of which, as we shall see, are related, to binding and unbinding.148 Un/Publish-ability determines of the limits of readability and is a question about the justice of reading what remains to be read, of any reading “to come.” An orientation to a future rather than past from a mess to a structure, from private to public, or from one kind of mess to another, publication not necessarily having a structure—how do you read the structure? Not genetic criticism. 149 In H.C., For Life, Derrida links just reading to reading everthing: “one must read everything, of course, letter by letter: I ill-treat everything by thus selecting and chopping with unforgivable violence. Unable to do justice to this book, as to the fifty others . . . H.C., For Life, 119.150 But the limits of what survive, the possibility of being in tact, left aside for a reading to come, are not reducible to the finitude of a given material support that makde publication possible and the infinity of reading whatever ahs been published. Publish-ability concerns the limits of “everything” that is to be read: is “everything” what has been published, republished? Whatever falls under the category of “internal” is not limited to what Derrida calls the “normal category of readability” Parages, 187 or “normal reading,” but neither does “unreadability” (Living On,” Parages, 188) amount to the text’s overruning of the protective legal aspects of publication—“protective measure [structures de garde] and institutions as the registering of copyright, the Library of Congress or the Bibliotheque Nationale, or something like a flyleaf,” Parages, 114-115.151 “Is a Tweet a Publication? Is every publication a post? Jacques Derrida and Elizabeth Roudinesco, “In Praise of Psychoanalysis” in For What Tomorrow . . . A Dialogue Trans. Jeff Fort(Stanford UP), 166-96; to 185-91. Roger Chartier, “Introduction,” Inscription and Erasure: Literature and Written Culture from the Eleventh to the Eighteenth Century Trans Arthur Goldhammer ( 2008) The condition of archiving is publication when it comes to reading, to unreadability, to living on (survivance). Two ediitons of Blanchot. Fo fiction and testimony when it comes to Derrida’s last words, kjustfictions.
Banchot Last Words, Very Last words on posthumous publication. “Final Words” Critical Inquiry “Jacques “says” puts the words in an oral register as if the person reading the note were reading his won words, not Derrida’s, using the informality—this is what he says, not what he said, even though Derrida is dead and so could not be speaking in the present tense. No archival commentary giving the details of the occasion given either in rue Descartes or critical inquiry. Pinned down by paratext—proper name and title—but otherwise liberated.
http://www.radicalphilosophy.com/web/grande-biog Sylviane Agacinski gave birth to Derrida's third son, Daniel, in 1984. Different engagement with Heidegger—not over animal versus human dying but the after death of Dasein and its exclusion by Heidegger. Heidegger on no after death versus Derrida’s posthumous note, a quotation, unsigned, written in the third person, to be read? To be read aloud? To be published? Alan Bass does refer at times to the “jacket copy” in his Intro xvi, Begin noting, in order to complicate, two seemingly obvious but actually complicated features of The Post Card, the preface that is not a preface and the back cover that bear on the boundaries of publication, prayer, survivance, and unreadability. The complication in the non/preface is the analogy Derrida draws between it and destroyed correspondence that has been burned and yet published (followed by many mentions of the burning and publishing)? The other is the back cover, signed J.D., which is like a letter in the “Envois.” It is singular. I am not interested in reading the content of the letter but in its being a prière d'insère, or “please insert.” What is the relation between destruction and divisibility, as pursued in “Facteur de la verite,” and yet Poe’s notion in The Purloined Letter that to show the letter is to destroy it, the simulacrum of the damaged—excessively folded letter the giveaway and the simulacrum of it reproduced as a visiting card? The back cover raises a different question related to publication. The post card is a letter, but in this case, a simulacrum of a letter, placed at the outer limit of the book, signed off, as it were, that is also related to prayer. It is not a citation, like the back cover of papier machine. The back cover is not one letter, a singular letter, or even a letter that has been posted. It has arrived at its resting place, the back cover, as Genette maintains, being the last of four stages in the history of the prière d'insère in French publication. Genette mentions one of Derrida’s prière d'insère. The material support of the book is not exhausted by the bound book, by the exteriority of the back cover with respect to the pages “inside” covered by the book. Nor does the jacket copy occupy a privileged exteriority, a kind of synoptic “coverage” of the book as a whole book (inside), but a simulacrum of the inside as well as an anachronism of what had been inserted as a press notice then as loose pages inside a book. (Derrida wrote on the bande around the book in Signsponge, but never on the prière d'insère.) The Post Card is not the only one on the back cover of a Derrida book, but it is the only one also signed, also dated, as much like a letter as the envoi are like a destroyed correspondence. If the limits of the letter are no decided by Derrida, if a post card is a publication, is the letter on the back, as prière d'insère, also a prayer? Although prière d'insère is translated into English as “Please insert” (“I pray you” being the transliteration, “je vous en prie”), Derrida activates the meaning of French meaning of prayer I prière d'insère for a French reader in a late interview about survivance. The section is a quotation –from the last chapter of Gift of Death, and the title is a quotation from Rogues related to the renvoi. La carte postale a carte posthume, to invent an expression that does not exist in French or have an equivalent in English, unlike the idiomatic le carnet posthume (the posthumous notebook)?152 In order to relate the deconstruction of the supposed indivisibility of the letter in The Post Card to the phantasm of the indivisibility of sovereignty in Without Alibi. And in relation to ash (of the archive), cinders, fires has Derrida’s favored tropes, and to the disposal of the corpse as raised in Beast and Sovereign 2. Derrida left a note to be read at his funeral. No addressee. No signatory. These are supplied by the editors when the paper was published. No plans for a posthumous edition of his works. But an order for the disposal of his works and for cremation in The Post Card. Not only closer reading of page layout and graphics and paratexts without subsuming them and dismissing them, boxing them up as instances of performativity. No collecting all of JD’s post cards or of his prière d'insère along the lines Genette hopes for. Derrida’s meaning publication notes as well as notes about not changing the talk for publication. I want to pursue these questions by engaging both aspects of The Post Card and some of Derrida’s returns to it related to the archive, which brings with it psychoanalysis, media and media supports, the proper name, the title; sovereignty; and, to posthumous publication. Cinders, another simulacrum of destroyed correspondence, this time as an archive. “For the Love of Lacan”; sovereignty and cruelty in relation to the Post Card in “Psychoanalysis Searches”. In addition, I want to link survivance to the post card, which may be too quickly under the headings of various Derridemes. (Post Card is already posthumous as is all writing—see Plato’s Pharmacy”; it’s not a distinction.) But strictly posthumous publication, also a paper, a prayer, unpublished, or posthumously published, that cites, no more openly than Derida cites himself in his interview, in Beast and the Sovereign 2 in relation to a discussion of Heidegger and prayer. The purpose of pursuing them is open up the possibility of a deconstruction Derrida never carried out, a deconstruction without a name, of certain distinctions that underwrote Derrida’s deconstructive practice, what he calls his custom. He stops and starts reading published editions. He menitons letters and he may quote from Blanchot’s in Demeure, but then does not reproduce the manuscript or give a full diplomatic transcription. Ditto with Hegel’s report. Or with Pascal’s poem, paper, journal to self, and so on. A diplomatic transcription is good enough. As opposed to “Final Words” (“Derniers Mots,” in Critical Inquiry.” No critique genetique. No interest in textual criticism, not even in Joyce studies Again, no difference whether published or unpublished (Geneses, Archives). The archive in Cinders is a simulacrum, composed of quotations of The Post Card. Derrida organizes a scene of reading sometimes by reshelving the works of others (Lacan) in relation to their publication history, or through self-citations (as in Gift of Death). He goes back to editions in Typewriter Ribbon Ink and in Living On, but never to manuscripts. He does mention unpublished letters, and reproductions of his own letters have appeared in publications he didn’t write (Hantai; Cixous). He distinguishes his deconstruction from Destruktion (see Rogues lengthy endnote.). (See Heidegger on Destruktion in, Fundamental Concepts) He is very insistent, perhaps overly so. And he distinguishes his published work from his own in relation to the archive. He thematized words. He formalized. But he did not collect in his normative bibliographic way. No fantasy of a total collection. But the simulacrum, the play with graphics, all dependent on the closure of publication. No going back to Derrida’s mss. We may stay with his publications in order to examine howhe deals with publication as a threshold of reading. But read his returns, his renvoi (resendings) differently. The resending of a sending never sent. Unreadable not the same thing as illegible—like crossed out words not transcribed—whereas Nietzsche and other facing page manuscripts do show crossing out. Heidegger published manuscript on facing page of type in Sojourns. Derrida smoked—pipe and cigars.
And others , like rue Descartes—his letter said over his grave. Over Cixous, Flying Manuscript. Reproductions of Artaud’s drawings and of other paintings in Memoirs of the Blind. The a priori of sending (arriving without arriving) is played out in the empirical threshold of publication—the empirical existence of a material support. But when Derrida was reading, he stopped at editions of books; unreadabilty –all borders except the border of publication versus pre-publication, manuscripts and drafts. Textual critics often Derrida friendly, but Derrida did not reciprocate by engaging in textual criticism. He did plan the publication of his works the way Heidegger did (turned out to be a complete mess, in any case) or Kierkegaard did. Be did not appoint caretakers, like Heidegger did his son. Publication is a threshold he did not cross. He may have mentioned handwritten dedications, but manuscripts, when they were mentioned, were lost, as is in Blanchot’s Instant of My Death. The Post Card is a publication and also a letter (derrida jokes); and prier d’insere is also a publication, an insert that may also be attached. Death and after death. Derrida speaks from beyond the grave. Who read the paper? Or was it passed around, to be read silently by each person in attendance? Why did he not permit orations given that he gave so many? Is Derrida already a ghost? A spectre when writing the note in quotation marks? Is he writing a posthumous publication? He knows it will be published but does not make arrangements for it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigillography153 Mais l’anticipation rêvée semble se double d’un movement contraire, de ce qu’il nommait “la perversion du play-back”, puisque la bande-son aura été choisie—“ élue”, comme il dit—pour être rejouée depuis là -bas, depuis ce lieu sans lieu où ça posthume, comme un telephonogramme revenant de l’avenir. Bref, le flash-forward contient, d’avance inscrit lui, une sorte de gramophonie qui accompagne, voire permet ou appelle l’anticipation, cette animation d’un “je” envoyé en délégation a ses proper funérailles. En différé, il y assiste a sa mort, il l’espionne. “D’où que je sois . . . [Tels furent ses dernier mots, posthumes, lus au cimetiere de Ris-Orange le 12 Octobre (ils sont reproduits dans Rue Descartes, no 48, 2005, 6-7] “ semble t-il songer alors, “je” veille et surveille son ci-gît. Tandis que son cercueil se scelle d’avance un sigillographie posthume, son écoute présente se scinde et se dédouble.
Szendy does not say who read the note. Szendy cites, on p. 152 of Sur Écoute, Derrida’s circonfession “terminable survie laquelle “je me vois vivre”: traduit “je me vois mourir” . . . “ , Circonfession, 40-41 Peter Szendy, “Sortie: Le rêve de J.D.,” Sur Écoute – Esthétique de l'espionnage (Paris: Editions de Minuit, 2007), 145-53; to p. 151-52. Jacques Derrida, « Cette nuit dans la nuit de la nuit… », dans revue Rue Descartes, n° 42, novembre 2003, pp. 112-127) Ce texte est la retranscription d’une communication faite au Collège International de Philosophie lors du « Samedi du livre » consacré à La Musique en respect (Paris, Galilée, 2002), le 1er février 2003). “ . . . l’irresistiblé projection, la quasi-hallucination d’un théâtre, à la fois visible et audible, d’une intrigue dans laquelle le visible est emporté, transporté pars le temps sans temps de la musique, et la scène [ . . . ] où je suis —où le je se trouve—mort mais encore là, et tous ceux et celles qui sont ou auront été aimées, toutes et toutes ensemble, mais chacun et chacune pour soi écouteraient ensemble religieusement cette musique-ci, qui peut être un chant, mais un chant non dominé par une voix intelligible, une musique dont le mort ne serait pas l’auteur (puisqu’il en aura été d’abord envahi et affecté), mais qu’il aurait élue comme s’il désirait avoir le génie de l’inventer, de la composer pour leur offrir, si bien que cette parole (“voilà la musique, se dirait-il, dans laquelle j’aurais voulu mourir, pour laquelle j’aurais voulu mourir”), la tristesse de mort ou d’adieu serait alors d’un instant à l’autre transfigurée en surabondance de vie . . . Le moi-même, mort mais soulevé par cette musique par la venue unique de cette musique-ci, ici maintenant, dans un même movement, le moi-même mourrait en disant oui à la mort et du coup réssusciterait, se disant, je renais, mais non sans mourir, je renais posthumément, la même et naissance, salut désespéré et l’adieu sans retour et sans salvation, sans rédemption mais salut à la vie de l’autre vivant dans le signe secret et les silence exurbérant d’une vie surabondante . . .’  
Jacques Derrida, « Cette nuit dans la nuit de la nuit… », dans revue Rue Descartes, n° 42, novembre 2003, pp. 112-127; to pp. 124-25) URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40978797 Jacques Derrida, « Envois », La Carte postale, de Socrate à Freud et au-delà. Paris, Aubier Flammarion, 1980, p. 217.
Certain deconstruction guaranteed made possible by the condition of publication, by not theorizing publishability or un/ publishability. Unreadability, survivance all begin and stop at the post publication border. Pre-publication but publishing elides and post. Posthumous publication part of carrying out already published and unpublished works. Kierkegaard. JD mentions the mss Rousseau left in the church. But also compares Blanchot to Pascal as oblivion, forget me, but no attention to Posthumous publication as Blanchot paid. In essays on Kafka. Derrida also uses “archived” to refer to already published materials. The politics of publication—legal norms of publication—these are “external” to any “internal” reading or unreading, parergonal border reading. The moment of publication serves as the a priori of sending. A kind of transcendental limit. Posthumographic is a kind of hauntogrammatology—extends ways of thinking about the archive, archive management that are not reducible to a positive history, on the one hand, but that are not reducible to a structure—restance—that totalizes—either. But examines ecospecifc modes of destruction as played out in published works.. « La musique... l’expérience même de l’appropriation impossible ». Quelques variations sur un thème de Jacques Derrida Marie-Louise MALLET Escritura e imagen Vol. ext. (2011): 41-56
Yes, it’s true. Deconstruction is clearly dying. But we have to ask precisely how it is dying. For instance, last week we read in the newspaper that Nixon was dying, and then that Nixon was dead. Next week there will be nothing in the papers about Nixon dying. But it is not like that with deconstruction. Deconstruction has been dying for quite awhile. The first reports of its dying came to us a long time ago, and no doubt it will continue dying for some time to come. And it seems to be dying more in some places than others. For instance, in France, deconstruction is not dying. It was declared dead long ago. But in the United States, deconstruction still seems to be dying quite a bit.4 Directory: burt burt -> - burt -> I spent this week once again finding Robotic heads. I found a few more interesting models. Here are a few examples burt -> Yet to Be Read: Exhuming the Camp as the Arche-Archive to Come Download 2.22 Mb. Share with your friends:
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