I find a constellation at dawn with insomnia

I have kept asking myself if we really can think of anything without considering the hermeneutic nature of phenomenological thought. Heidegger maintains, in his Being and Time, that “the phenomenology of Dasein is a hermeneutic in the primordial significance of the word, hermenuein (Interpreting).” As a Dasein, I doubt if I can resist my hermeneutic desire to make perfect interpretation on this phenomenological world, since it is how I become a being and how I make Aletheia reside in me or reveal itself from my being-ness. It seems almost irresistible philosophical accounts. And it was in fact the most revolutionary ontology since Plato.
However, we know that we should stop building our own ontological house with this hermeneutic language, as professor Ulmer encourages us to do. I want to believe that this is not because the hermeneutic is wrong, but because our time does no more allow it.
Blanchot and Biel tell us that we are unable to interpret the world which is way bigger than our interpretational capacity and that there is no way to present the world within the representational nature of language. Perhaps, it is true that none of those who suffer from disastrous events wants the interpretation. Interpretation turns out to be a dream of historians or philosophers to make a convincing excuse for their ontological failure. I see this failure through the eyes of the poor Rwandan girl who had to see her family butchered by her rival tribe soldiers.
Therefore, I decided not to understand what happened there; instead I will feel something that encoded in the vacuum of the hermeneutic excuses, apologies, and justifications.
One of my posts is Miro’s painting, called Constellation, Awakening Early Morning. Blanchot mentioned about white night, insomnia, sleepless night as a vestige of hopeless attempt to figure out how stars (aster) are arranged and why they are disarranged(dis-aster). He and we try to interpret the reason of the constellation, an arrangement of stars, and we both end up knowing nothing from it – dis–aster. If we are not able to see the structure of the constellation, then we may be able to construct the constellation itself. This might have been a ridiculous account if I say this in the past where electracy as a new tale of culture was never imagined in the forceful presence of literacy. However, now we can build up this constellation in the form of blog where every possible arrangement of discourse can be made, overlapped, and changed into something else constantly.
Come to my blog to see if the vestige of my own hopeless hermeneutic attempt changes into something else in the constellation of heuretic feeling.


~ by cjc128 on February 24, 2009.

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