We live our lives with a sense of order. We expect the plethrea of our daily lives: trafic will be as it has been, our music will sound as it does, our family's will progress as they do ( this being perhaps the most stable of them all because they are based on defection)/ Those moments though when things do not go as expected, when trafic is lighter, is heavier: we take a certain pleasure in it, even if that pleasure is a hatered, or when it is smooth and we can gain one of those spiritual moments when 'all is calm.' The chorus is about to appear, satisfy our participatory yearning, but the radio dismatles for a moment for who very few knows why. SATISFACTION DENIED. For a moment, then it comes back and we are content as if nothing happens (unless we must dwell for whatever existential reason).
What tho, when it is this disruption which brings us jouisance. Perhaps it is that moment of disjuction which brings somethings out of the ordinary, rather it is the out of the ordinary, which brings us a moment of realization, of commig to know what it is which brings us joy. Of course the order is nice because is conforts us in the stream of life, but those moments of disruption, of imperfection which bring us a knowledge, qua knowledge, not an accompaniment of the order.
Those disruptions suck, they are not fun, they are not what we expected. They let us down, they reject us, they make us hurt. But... they are. They are real and as such will not leave us alone, but will rather be like an insistence, an in-itch-ence, which will not leave us alone, for whatever irrational, or arational reason... they will. Thus, why not reveal in the destruction in all that you are, was, and will be. Sit in the non-space of what will have been.
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