We are, too much movement, drawn into a space where truth is missing, where the boundaries are gone, where we are engaged in excess, and this is yet we are taxed to maintain a fair process, not to lose the measure and seek a true word by going to the bottom of the error.
Maurice Blanchot's literary space . He speaks of the Letter of Lord Chandos to Hoffmanstahl, but what he says applies to the strangely intimate experience and deep which is now behind all online activity. Internet is just like writing, a space whose basis is the complete idleness, dissociation of self and diving into the void of absurdity. We are always a few clicks of the worst horrors, as we can spoil in a time where our lives as our identity disappears. We become anonymous and we pay gradually available to our most destructive impulses, hatred, contempt, debauchery. And it's closer to the deconstruction emerge
Blanchot has faced this excess, excessiveness of communication in the 30s, when he published controversial articles in the newspapers of the extreme-right French. Then he met Bataille, the librarian fascinated by violent ritual, dismember, enucleation, and yet devoid of any cynicism and contempt. How
Blanchot currently seeking their battle on the worst online forums?
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