What is a Man of Letters?

Literacy is one of two things: either it is the ability to decipher into useful meaning the symbols mankind creates as a function of his industry, or it is the deception of runes on the human mind and a fatal restructuring of its consciousness into an abyss of logocentric philosophy, itself a misnomer. What is language? It is intelligible barking. What is reading? It is the necromancy of dead letters into living semantics, contingent on history and necessarily faulty understanding. It is a disgraceful attempt to convey abstractions between thinking organs. What therefore is a man of letters?

We’re anything but God-like.

A man of letters is a man hijacked by the thoughts of other people. What thinking is fostered by his practice of decipher he surrenders to the utility of the forces of alterity. He is affluent in thought and impoverished in value: the grammar of his mind is a proxy, not a source. On the stilt of ideology he  builds ruins over axioms and even when doubtful he presumes to construct yet further: this is what I think, he says, in robbed terminology and tainted semantics. To yield to sociality is the human impulse and the human fault: being social, we are made more social to our detriment. The first man to speak spoke not of the universe but of himself in relation to another. The first linguist was a doctor of reality and his companions bowed to his distortions and endarkened interpretations. Atheistic in temperament but insecure in behavior, he built logic on the plains and murder in the cities: the atheism was correct, the language was not. 

Philology grounds meaning in utility.

What of the philologist? Clothe him in cotton and he will speak of cotton; his vanity will interrupt his thinking and ventriloquize his senses. “All that is solid melts into air” when he speaks and the numinous world leeches itself into being: behold his civilization, constructed of letters and peppered with armies, calculated into being and amoral from the start, more primitive because more destructive: here we have a man of letters in his habitat which kills him the longer he survives. 

Language is the practice of the fooling of oneself and the fooling of others.

Every man is a practicing dialectician who does not know it. A dialogue is the economics of the gadfly: bite and nibble, pinch and pierce, but never ground the senses in the kernel of truth which no matter its apparency can never be intimated through this corrupted medium. Talk and be fooled; read and do not know.

 

 

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~ by Jeremy on July 31, 2013.

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