As always, another excellent guest lecture. Quick thanks to all the guests we've had throughout the semester. You have all made this difficult material seem much more.. manageable.
So, as evidenced by this week's post, feminist theory evades easy definition. Feminist critics take different perspectives, exploring the ways in which women are classified and subordinated. There is the conflict between sexuality and gender, and what is necessary to create a more level playing field, so to speak. In other words, the question of what needs to change for our society to view women as equals is disputed even among feminists. We have a common goal, but no one is quite sure how to get there. Some postfeminists seem to believe we've come a long way already, that women are to a point where they are finally "free".
I've always found the topic of pornography compelling, especially in regards to feminist theory. First of all, the term pornography has some iffy implications, and can be defined in a few different ways (as we have discussed in class). I could argue that Hollywood is little more than a well dressed porn industry. Celebrities are objectified just as porn stars are. The only difference is, the porn industry explicitly uses sex, whereas celebrities are idolized, worshipped, "put on a pedestal", and therefore made into an unreachable object. Both the way we view mainstream celebrities and pornographic actors is dangerously voyeuristic. So I'm not going to claim to support the porn industry or imply that there is nothing wrong with it, but I will not say that in terms of the objectification of its stars that one is most damaging than the other. And while one may argue (justifiably) that pornography - which I will think of as the objectification of a person for the pleasure of another - is further subordinating women in our culture, it is unfair not to acknowledge that men are also objectified in these ways. People are being objectified.
When a woman is objectified, power is taken away from them. As aforementioned, I do believe pornography is objectifying, but the radical extent to which certain feminists take it doesn't seem accurate or believable to me (the post specifically notes Andrea Dworkin and Catherine A. MacKinnon). I do not necessarily believe it condones "male fantasies of violence and rape against women", though, of course, there are room for exceptions. Still, I fear this may be on the verge of generalizing, which is not really good for anyone. I am curious to know how the women in the class feel about this.
I try to read feminist theory from the most sympathetic mindset I can, but I also try to consider my own identity as a man, and how that effects my relationship to this material. I wonder if I am imposing power or undermining women in my actions or words. If so, how? And what can I do to change that? Finding equality between men and women requires the responsibility of both sexes. I understand the value of feminism, and consider myself a feminist. So in response to the question of "who can do feminism", my answer would, without hesitation, be "anyone".
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Clock.
"Clock."
"Yes." She pointed. It hung on the wall behind him, near the corner to his left, an absurdly fussy and over-ornamented Swiss cuckoo clock, with an alpine gable and a small host of obscure shapes, peasants, cows, alphenhorns, edelweiss, heaven knows what else, carved on every available brown wooden surface. "It was left us by a previous patient. An Irish gentleman. We thought it added a human touch."
"It's awful."
"It won't disturb you. We've disconnected the striking mechanism. It doesn't cuckoo anymore."
He remained staring at the hideous clock: its lunatically cluttered front, its dropped intenstines of weights and chains. It did disturb him, standing for something he feared, he couldn't say why; an anomaly, an incongruous reminder of all he could not remember. (10)
The image of the cuckoo clock hanging on an otherwise empty wall in the author's brain is something that has stuck with me. It seems to have various meanings, a few of which are quite relevant to the material we've been trying to digest. Let's give this a shot, shall we?
We first have a physical description of the object. It is a cluttered, overstimulating and ridiculously gaudy mess of a thing. The patient is informed that the striking mechanism was removed, assuring him that he will not be bothered by it. But even without sound, it makes its presence known, especially in contrast to the relatively simple room (which is, as aforementioned, representative of the brain or mind).
As is the case with just about anything in this world, there are few ways to look at this. First off, the cuckoo clock that doesn't cuckoo is deconstructed. A cuckoo clock serves one function that an ordinary clock does not, and that is to cuckoo. A clock that doesn't cuckoo is just a clock. This is along the same lines as the bus-train example we had used earlier in the semester. It is something of a "loophole" in the way we use language. Look at this from a perspective that is more akin to psychoanalytic theory and the clock that makes its presence known, regardless of how well it functions, is saying something about the man made construct of time. Miles describes the clock as something he fears, because it is an "incongruous reminder of all he could not remember." Subconsciously, as can be said about all societal norms, it is always present, lingering, nagging. And then theres the obvious "cuckoo" as "insanity".
It is explained that the reason the clock is there in the first place is to add a "human touch". What can one make of this statement? We have a description of the clock as hideous and cluttered, is this "human"? Maybe it is a reference the confusion and conflict of the human mind? But wait, because it is a clock, it is representative of time, something humans created. But time is suggestive of order, isn't it? Or maybe time creates insanity, and humans fall victim to the things they create.
This could just be overanalyzing, especially since it is revealed later in the book that the Irish patient they mention is based on a real person, Flann O'Brien. I know we discussed this briefly in class, but I cannot remember if his context in this book was explained. From what I know he is a satirist and novelist who, like Fowles, is also noted for exploring metafiction. So maybe the "humanity" the clock offered was the presence of another author who had attempted to achieve something similar through his art. Maybe it was a reminder that the author is not dead after all, but who knows?
"Yes." She pointed. It hung on the wall behind him, near the corner to his left, an absurdly fussy and over-ornamented Swiss cuckoo clock, with an alpine gable and a small host of obscure shapes, peasants, cows, alphenhorns, edelweiss, heaven knows what else, carved on every available brown wooden surface. "It was left us by a previous patient. An Irish gentleman. We thought it added a human touch."
"It's awful."
"It won't disturb you. We've disconnected the striking mechanism. It doesn't cuckoo anymore."
He remained staring at the hideous clock: its lunatically cluttered front, its dropped intenstines of weights and chains. It did disturb him, standing for something he feared, he couldn't say why; an anomaly, an incongruous reminder of all he could not remember. (10)
The image of the cuckoo clock hanging on an otherwise empty wall in the author's brain is something that has stuck with me. It seems to have various meanings, a few of which are quite relevant to the material we've been trying to digest. Let's give this a shot, shall we?
We first have a physical description of the object. It is a cluttered, overstimulating and ridiculously gaudy mess of a thing. The patient is informed that the striking mechanism was removed, assuring him that he will not be bothered by it. But even without sound, it makes its presence known, especially in contrast to the relatively simple room (which is, as aforementioned, representative of the brain or mind).
As is the case with just about anything in this world, there are few ways to look at this. First off, the cuckoo clock that doesn't cuckoo is deconstructed. A cuckoo clock serves one function that an ordinary clock does not, and that is to cuckoo. A clock that doesn't cuckoo is just a clock. This is along the same lines as the bus-train example we had used earlier in the semester. It is something of a "loophole" in the way we use language. Look at this from a perspective that is more akin to psychoanalytic theory and the clock that makes its presence known, regardless of how well it functions, is saying something about the man made construct of time. Miles describes the clock as something he fears, because it is an "incongruous reminder of all he could not remember." Subconsciously, as can be said about all societal norms, it is always present, lingering, nagging. And then theres the obvious "cuckoo" as "insanity".
It is explained that the reason the clock is there in the first place is to add a "human touch". What can one make of this statement? We have a description of the clock as hideous and cluttered, is this "human"? Maybe it is a reference the confusion and conflict of the human mind? But wait, because it is a clock, it is representative of time, something humans created. But time is suggestive of order, isn't it? Or maybe time creates insanity, and humans fall victim to the things they create.
This could just be overanalyzing, especially since it is revealed later in the book that the Irish patient they mention is based on a real person, Flann O'Brien. I know we discussed this briefly in class, but I cannot remember if his context in this book was explained. From what I know he is a satirist and novelist who, like Fowles, is also noted for exploring metafiction. So maybe the "humanity" the clock offered was the presence of another author who had attempted to achieve something similar through his art. Maybe it was a reminder that the author is not dead after all, but who knows?
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Who Watches the Watchmen?
I am an avid supporter of comic books. I think its an excellent medium with countless artistic possibilities, and Hollywood's current trend in comic-based films (300, V for Vendetta, From Hell, Sin City, Hellboy, Ghost World, to name a few) is a pretty good indicator that the rest of the world is finally starting to catch on to it. Now, admittedly I am more a fan of the independent, non Superhero stuff (I'll take Fantagraphics and Drawn & Quarterly over DC and Marvel any day), but then there is Watchmen.
The big question Watchmen asks is, what if superheroes were real? The characters are psychologically disturbed and fragile (some, arguably, even sociopathic). They are confused about their identity and their place in the world, and have opposing objectives for saving it. A few of the central heroes are even gay (or rumored to be). The objective of my paper is to explore the book's deconstruction of super heroes and the super hero genre.
First, it is essential to identify the purpose and identity of a superhero within our culture. What do we conceive as characteristic of a superhero? What value/purpose do they have within our society? Simply, to deconstruct a superhero, one must first have a working definition of what a superhero conventionally is. We briefly explored in class the term "hero", and the expectations that come with the application of the word. I wanted to expand upon that idea.
As one can imagine, it has been difficult finding usable academic journals in support of this topic, so my current list on my annotated bibliography is a tentative one. One article I found is about an art exhibit with a focus on revealing how superhero comics have mirrored society's history from WWII to present day. This could provide a good starting point in terms of cultural significance, so that is going in the maybe pile. Another article discusses the glamorization of superheroes, and another how the concept of a superhero has evolved through television, film, and (of course) comic books.
Things are coming together and I will be digging deeper to find better working sources. Like I said, difficult topic in terms of finding the right stuff, but well worth it for what has the potential to be a really great paper (i hope). At this point, we're only in the beginning stages. Any suggestions are appreciated.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Ken Rufo Response
Well, its safe to say I have my work cut out for me this week. I don't THINK I'm lost, and thats a good sign, right?
I think I was in the same horrible cloud of confusion that Ryan described in his most recent post, but our recent guest Ken Rufo brushed away that which blinded me with his mighty hand of wisdom and truth. So lets see if i can reproduce his strongest points of Baudrillard's thinking.
First and foremost, there is "sign value", or the idea that what an object represents or signifies is often more important than how much it costs or the quality of its construction. Rufo uses Tommy Hilfiger as an example of a designer that utilizes sign value, in that he takes cheap clothing made in a sweatshop and slaps his name onto it to give it a higher value. For this reason, there is a focus on consumption over production.
As Baudrillard's ideas progressed, he started to believe that the Marxist concept of a commodity was not a preexisting discovery, but rather an invention by the theorist. This then creates a theoretical commodity. So, as Rufo puts it, in the same way that one would buy stuff with their money, Marxism can explain stuff with theories and concepts. Voila! Connections!
We find connections to commodity in Saussure's semiotics. The signified and signifier of a commodity is replaced with the use-value and exchange value. Marx considers money to be the pure commodity form because it can be exchanged for anything.
Everything I have written in this post up until this point has been a reminder to myself, above anything. A point of reference when I dive back into this material. I still feel like I have a bit to wrap my mind around, but for now lets get into the good stuff - simulation.
So the three basic orders of simulation as proposed by Baudrillard's book Symbolic Exchange and Death, are as follows
1. Simulation stands in for reality - so if the star player is reality and you are simulation, coach will put you in in the event that the star player is not able to play in the field of language (since language constitutes a reality and all that jazz)
2. Simulation hides the absence of reality
3. Simulation produces its own reality
Later on Baudrillard adds a fourth stage to the mix, the fractal/viral stage. This is the point where simulation is everywhere with no need for models. Ken Rufo uses an awesome example of credit and virtual banking being the fractal stage of our use of money. We hardly see money anymore, because its not physically there. We borrow and spend and save up cash that may as well not even exist. Upon first reading about this stage of simulation, I had difficulty in applying it to anything "real" (for lack of a better word). Thinking of money as simulation, though, has me seriously considering the validity of this theory. This also brings us back to Baudrillard's idea that it is consumption that makes capitalism work, not production. This holds a lot of weight for me, that we are so completely reliant on something such as money is not a new idea, but realizing how little of it we see is almost scary. It may as well not be real, and yet we cannot separate ourselves from it.
So yeah, I have a lot to think about for awhile. This is interesting stuff, but still terribly complicated in many ways. Ken Rufo's post did help greatly though, so this is appreciated.
Oh, and by the way Ken, Skylarking is one of my favorite albums ever. I can't hold anything against a guy who appreciates XTC (the BAND, get your minds out of the gutter).
I think I was in the same horrible cloud of confusion that Ryan described in his most recent post, but our recent guest Ken Rufo brushed away that which blinded me with his mighty hand of wisdom and truth. So lets see if i can reproduce his strongest points of Baudrillard's thinking.
First and foremost, there is "sign value", or the idea that what an object represents or signifies is often more important than how much it costs or the quality of its construction. Rufo uses Tommy Hilfiger as an example of a designer that utilizes sign value, in that he takes cheap clothing made in a sweatshop and slaps his name onto it to give it a higher value. For this reason, there is a focus on consumption over production.
As Baudrillard's ideas progressed, he started to believe that the Marxist concept of a commodity was not a preexisting discovery, but rather an invention by the theorist. This then creates a theoretical commodity. So, as Rufo puts it, in the same way that one would buy stuff with their money, Marxism can explain stuff with theories and concepts. Voila! Connections!
We find connections to commodity in Saussure's semiotics. The signified and signifier of a commodity is replaced with the use-value and exchange value. Marx considers money to be the pure commodity form because it can be exchanged for anything.
Everything I have written in this post up until this point has been a reminder to myself, above anything. A point of reference when I dive back into this material. I still feel like I have a bit to wrap my mind around, but for now lets get into the good stuff - simulation.
So the three basic orders of simulation as proposed by Baudrillard's book Symbolic Exchange and Death, are as follows
1. Simulation stands in for reality - so if the star player is reality and you are simulation, coach will put you in in the event that the star player is not able to play in the field of language (since language constitutes a reality and all that jazz)
2. Simulation hides the absence of reality
3. Simulation produces its own reality
Later on Baudrillard adds a fourth stage to the mix, the fractal/viral stage. This is the point where simulation is everywhere with no need for models. Ken Rufo uses an awesome example of credit and virtual banking being the fractal stage of our use of money. We hardly see money anymore, because its not physically there. We borrow and spend and save up cash that may as well not even exist. Upon first reading about this stage of simulation, I had difficulty in applying it to anything "real" (for lack of a better word). Thinking of money as simulation, though, has me seriously considering the validity of this theory. This also brings us back to Baudrillard's idea that it is consumption that makes capitalism work, not production. This holds a lot of weight for me, that we are so completely reliant on something such as money is not a new idea, but realizing how little of it we see is almost scary. It may as well not be real, and yet we cannot separate ourselves from it.
So yeah, I have a lot to think about for awhile. This is interesting stuff, but still terribly complicated in many ways. Ken Rufo's post did help greatly though, so this is appreciated.
Oh, and by the way Ken, Skylarking is one of my favorite albums ever. I can't hold anything against a guy who appreciates XTC (the BAND, get your minds out of the gutter).
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Ding Dong the Author's Dead!
Okay, so resulting in my tendency to write my blog posts at the last possible minute, I had the benefit of seeing the posts of just about everyone else in class before I contribute anything. Unfortunately, the two blogs that had immediately jumped out at me at first have been used by just about everyone, which is alas, a downside of being the last to write anything. The indie kid in me will not settle for an overused blog reference.
From the few blogs I've stalked, this one only appeared once. Hopefully I don't need to explain why this one popped out at me initially (aside from its obvious presence as the first in our shared list of academic blogs), but in the strange event that you just aren't getting it - look at the font! The content is also, quite appropriately, acknowledging the author's need to please his/her readers. "Do PEOPLE not recognize the ADVANTAGES of random blockquoting or UnNecessary bullets 1. and outlines that would shock YOUR high school English teacher?" The post feels like a jumbled, frustrated mess, but in relatively few words contains quite a bit about the author's responsibility to its readers and vice versa, especially in the world of blogging.
The subjectivity tied to language is apparent in his first line, as he debates how to blog best, implying nobody has such empirical knowledge. If such a thing exists, who decides what is "best" or even "well"? Clearly there is confusion between what constitutes such words - the concept of "best" is vague. And what may be considered best to the author is not necessarily for the reader. In the end, his experimental usage of font and brief, somewhat nonsensical rambling comes around to "no, this isn't what the reader wants". At which point, the author/blogger effectively dies... figuratively.
From the few blogs I've stalked, this one only appeared once. Hopefully I don't need to explain why this one popped out at me initially (aside from its obvious presence as the first in our shared list of academic blogs), but in the strange event that you just aren't getting it - look at the font! The content is also, quite appropriately, acknowledging the author's need to please his/her readers. "Do PEOPLE not recognize the ADVANTAGES of random blockquoting or UnNecessary bullets 1. and outlines that would shock YOUR high school English teacher?" The post feels like a jumbled, frustrated mess, but in relatively few words contains quite a bit about the author's responsibility to its readers and vice versa, especially in the world of blogging.
The subjectivity tied to language is apparent in his first line, as he debates how to blog best, implying nobody has such empirical knowledge. If such a thing exists, who decides what is "best" or even "well"? Clearly there is confusion between what constitutes such words - the concept of "best" is vague. And what may be considered best to the author is not necessarily for the reader. In the end, his experimental usage of font and brief, somewhat nonsensical rambling comes around to "no, this isn't what the reader wants". At which point, the author/blogger effectively dies... figuratively.
Reader killed the Literary Star
As with just about everything on the planet, I have very mixed feelings about this whole 'death of the author' thing.
I have always admired the artist that chooses to disclose nothing of their works' meaning. Leonard Cohen, for example, will rarely speak about intended meanings of his songs. When he does, his explanations are minimalistic and deliberately vague. We are barely given a context. The mystery of the art's 'true' meaning is still intact, and we can bend and shape and morph of it into whatever our lens for looking at the world desires.
It would be somewhat naive to believe that a writer, or any artist for that matter, could effectively convey something exactly as they see it, and I think that is along the lines of what Barthes is trying to say. Language does not have the benefit of holding the same unified meaning between any two people, because we all experience language differently. When I mention the name Daniel Johnston, I have a very fixed notion of who he was and what he created. To most people, that name is meaningless, but my knowledge of him, in many ways, has shaped the way I view the world. Of the relatively few people who are familiar with him, many are probably annoyed or put off by his 'art'. Clearly, they don't see what I see, or rather hear what I hear (he is a musician, for those who do not know). Or maybe they do, and that is their reason for NOT liking him. Maybe they feel just as passionate about his music as I do, but their reason for appreciating it is completely different from mine. We can both share the opinion that he makes 'good' music, but may take totally different roads in getting to that conclusion, so what may seem like a shared vision is actually quite different in that we are appreciating two different aspects of the same thing (or person, Danny was a person and he don't rapp).
So even the simplest ideas, when applied to language, become very confusing and varied in meaning. The simple notion of what makes art 'good' is questionable, so how the hell are we going to have a unified understanding of the intention the artist intended. How is it possible, or even reasonable, to place the author's voice over everyone else, when his intentions are questionable? I think by killing the author, and maybe Barthes doesn't ever really hint at this, but this is simply what I'd like to take from it, we are acknowledging that no voice reigns over another. We kill the author because we know that our world is subjective, and the presumption that we can make sense of the author and find a way, through his/her text, to experience the world exactly the way they do is to be limiting (to the readers and the author himself) and unrealistic.
Even so, killing might be going slightly overboard, lets just put him in a dark room for awhile, just until we've come to terms with ourselves.
I have always admired the artist that chooses to disclose nothing of their works' meaning. Leonard Cohen, for example, will rarely speak about intended meanings of his songs. When he does, his explanations are minimalistic and deliberately vague. We are barely given a context. The mystery of the art's 'true' meaning is still intact, and we can bend and shape and morph of it into whatever our lens for looking at the world desires.
It would be somewhat naive to believe that a writer, or any artist for that matter, could effectively convey something exactly as they see it, and I think that is along the lines of what Barthes is trying to say. Language does not have the benefit of holding the same unified meaning between any two people, because we all experience language differently. When I mention the name Daniel Johnston, I have a very fixed notion of who he was and what he created. To most people, that name is meaningless, but my knowledge of him, in many ways, has shaped the way I view the world. Of the relatively few people who are familiar with him, many are probably annoyed or put off by his 'art'. Clearly, they don't see what I see, or rather hear what I hear (he is a musician, for those who do not know). Or maybe they do, and that is their reason for NOT liking him. Maybe they feel just as passionate about his music as I do, but their reason for appreciating it is completely different from mine. We can both share the opinion that he makes 'good' music, but may take totally different roads in getting to that conclusion, so what may seem like a shared vision is actually quite different in that we are appreciating two different aspects of the same thing (or person, Danny was a person and he don't rapp).
So even the simplest ideas, when applied to language, become very confusing and varied in meaning. The simple notion of what makes art 'good' is questionable, so how the hell are we going to have a unified understanding of the intention the artist intended. How is it possible, or even reasonable, to place the author's voice over everyone else, when his intentions are questionable? I think by killing the author, and maybe Barthes doesn't ever really hint at this, but this is simply what I'd like to take from it, we are acknowledging that no voice reigns over another. We kill the author because we know that our world is subjective, and the presumption that we can make sense of the author and find a way, through his/her text, to experience the world exactly the way they do is to be limiting (to the readers and the author himself) and unrealistic.
Even so, killing might be going slightly overboard, lets just put him in a dark room for awhile, just until we've come to terms with ourselves.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
That boy needs therapy!
I want to start this post with my take on Freud and his ideas. I am intrigued by the unconscious. I value his exploration of that which we do not 'see' or 'know' about ourselves. I would like to think of dreams as some sort of 'escape hatch' through which the repressed seeks an outlet into the conscious mind. These ideas are fascinating to me.
Where I disagree with Freud is in his proposed ability to discover a 'definitive' answer within the unconscious. I say this with the 'Dora' case study in mind, officially titled 'Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria', in which he completely and irresponsibly misread his eighteen year old female patient. It is questionable enough to claim answers to something as complex as the unconscious mind, but to then misuse that 'knowledge' in this way is truly disgusting. Barry also acknowledges Freud's work as being overwhelmingly masculinist (what with the Oedipal complex, the phallus, and the vagina representing a 'void' or 'emptiness'). Okay, we get it! Penises are ever present, like God or Jesus or my mother's relentless nagging voice telling me I'm not good enough.
I tried to hold back, honest i did, but it was TOO good to pass up. Wonder what Freud would have to say about this?
On that note, let's talk about love. Derrida describes love as narcissistic. This statement alone feels like an unprecedented deconstruction of love. Love is supposed to be selfless and pure, right? What could be selfish about love, the most beautiful emotion that the 'human experience' has to offer? Hate to burst your bubble, dude, but Its the love for yourself that is radiating so strongly from this person, this Other. Derrida jumbles things up quite a bit when he differentiates the what and who (is it you I love or something ABOUT you?). Its all very confusing in a sort of post-structuralist-pick-apart-everything sort of way. I believe Derrida also said at one point that love cannot be generalized, so of course, this narcissist thing is not necessarily true of everyone (though the cynic in me is very much in agreement).
I also want to mention briefly Derrida's comment to the director that 'this is not my biography, this is your autobiography'. In the same way that he views love as narcissistic, as a sort of projection of the self onto the Other, the director(s) takes parts of Derrida's being and applies it to herself. This is not Derrida as he sees himself, or as he 'really' is, its Derrida through the lens of anOther. Interpreted, picked apart, and edited together in pieces.
For once I'd like to end my blog post with some sort of conclusion, instead of abruptly stopping.
Where I disagree with Freud is in his proposed ability to discover a 'definitive' answer within the unconscious. I say this with the 'Dora' case study in mind, officially titled 'Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria', in which he completely and irresponsibly misread his eighteen year old female patient. It is questionable enough to claim answers to something as complex as the unconscious mind, but to then misuse that 'knowledge' in this way is truly disgusting. Barry also acknowledges Freud's work as being overwhelmingly masculinist (what with the Oedipal complex, the phallus, and the vagina representing a 'void' or 'emptiness'). Okay, we get it! Penises are ever present, like God or Jesus or my mother's relentless nagging voice telling me I'm not good enough.
I tried to hold back, honest i did, but it was TOO good to pass up. Wonder what Freud would have to say about this?
On that note, let's talk about love. Derrida describes love as narcissistic. This statement alone feels like an unprecedented deconstruction of love. Love is supposed to be selfless and pure, right? What could be selfish about love, the most beautiful emotion that the 'human experience' has to offer? Hate to burst your bubble, dude, but Its the love for yourself that is radiating so strongly from this person, this Other. Derrida jumbles things up quite a bit when he differentiates the what and who (is it you I love or something ABOUT you?). Its all very confusing in a sort of post-structuralist-pick-apart-everything sort of way. I believe Derrida also said at one point that love cannot be generalized, so of course, this narcissist thing is not necessarily true of everyone (though the cynic in me is very much in agreement).
I also want to mention briefly Derrida's comment to the director that 'this is not my biography, this is your autobiography'. In the same way that he views love as narcissistic, as a sort of projection of the self onto the Other, the director(s) takes parts of Derrida's being and applies it to herself. This is not Derrida as he sees himself, or as he 'really' is, its Derrida through the lens of anOther. Interpreted, picked apart, and edited together in pieces.
For once I'd like to end my blog post with some sort of conclusion, instead of abruptly stopping.
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