Y SIN EMBARGO magazine

La entrevista a Joël-Evelyñ-François Dézafit-Keltz (jef safi) para Y SIN EMBARGO magazine #15, “inter-visto issue”:

One of our games is definitely the most funny, [1] even ludicrous. The challenge is to pick up freely in the unlimited energy of Entropy to survive in spite of its devastating unpredictable rovings. Which arrangement to desire ? Which plane of emergence to pleat ? Which vanishing line to choose ?

The Game never started and will never end. All ending conjectures are conjectures ; [3] only eschatology is eschatologic. God is dead said Friedrich, but her name is Entropy. She is the only immanent vanishing line along which we are several monads incessantly becoming, dis-re-folding our memory persistence.

Entropy is at once all energies and all wanderings, sometimes named Eros, Chaos, Thanatos, Pandora, . . depending on parties and players. Alone, together, we are only winning not to be eliminated from this desperately joyful Game ! Paradoxically, Entropy will never win, even though she will remain the last player. She has no reason, no rule, no desire ; Entropy doesn’t play.

Chaos ? Thanatos ? Let’s surf on her breaking waves, roaming our destination, conjugating our route. Our navigation strategies, our win-surf arts, are at once our transcendences, and our illusory performances, on our ephemeral plane of emergence.

Eros ? Pandora ? [2] Love is this joyful win-win party sometimes played during the Game. But reduced to sexuality, they are often reciprocal null-sum ones. To get any advantages from someone ? What a temporary contingent bonus ! Using art ? What an oxymoron ! I hope we’ll win-win again together, but I seem to remember that only Hope remained locked in the Pandora’s box !

My self ? [4] It’s this “self” I don’t admit. This worst common concept is this trap set by anthropocentric theologisms and existentialisms. “Cogito ergo sum !” as “I think myself so I am myself !” is a so bad Game strategy. If we hope to continue to play, let’s jump on a rebirth line : “We are thinking so we are rhizoming !”. In our dis-re-evolving noosphere, only collaborative games between cognospheres are able to be performative enough to survive. Don’t let us be only what we can, let’s become what we want together.

As soon as something starts to persist in itself, it is its own miming, its own memory. The persistence of the being is the persistence of the “same”, able to be recognized as the “same”, by itself and the others at once. Memory persistence is the essence of monads, from the subatomic heteromogeneous universe to the astronomic one, including intermediate planes of consistency.

[9] New monads emerge from idiomogeneous universes, each one of their lives depending on immanent ones. No biosphere without mineral and vegetal immanences. No cognospheres without sensitive biospheres. No social noospheres without thinking cognospheres. Entropy blowing its energy, randomly roving, emerged perilous monads have to perform rhizomes persistent enough, or succumb collapsed.

Playing such Game, [5] how not to be stupefied, amazed and filled with wonder, when crossing such emergences persisting in their own memories, and ours at once, miming themselves, miming each other in their own heteromogeneous universes, or cross-miming other ones beyond other universes ? So much fascinating morphological likenesses ! So much incredible metabolic differAnces and repetitions ! So much creativity in computation of their logical and mathematical immanent laws.

While playing the Game, to play is to win. Nothing is more transcendant than rhizoming together this desperately joyful party, [6] whatever we are exchanging, whenever, however. Only the end of the Game is virtual and definitively without any concrete significance.

There is no differences without repetitions, [7] no creativities without social engagements. While playing the Game, we only act among the possibles, choosing to respect or not moral and/or ethical rules. While playing the Game, to be is to become together, incessantly choosing a direction without knowing our destination, dis-re-choosing, dis-re-territorializing ourselves along our chosen vanishing lines. We are not individually creative when desiring social recognition, we are socially engaged to be creative or not, trying serendipitously to control the process transforming what exists.

To play is to become, working by rhizoming, learning each one from each other, [8] including persisting memories of disappeared players. Five books ? Four filled e-Books with oriental, occidental, african and asian cultures ; including lessons of hundreds of languages. And a fifth filled with empty memory, equipped with devices for writing, drawing and sound recording our creative explorations.

Wording, picturing, [10] each one necessary, are not sufficient enough, to support alone our whole serendipity while imagining unreachable true realities. But their juxtaposition, perhaps, will reveal latent appearances in between the interstices of their median vacuum.

Philosophy is an art, as arts are philosophical. [11] This is what makes sense in terms of culture, to create, to invent new concepts exploring unknowables. It’s impossible without our artificial lights, [12] without our totems.

While our bottle is tossed about on the dark huge waves of Entropy, so close to sink in its abyssal unknown depths, lighted up inside by the failing lamp of our absolute certitudes, [15] hypnotized by the polished inner sides of our narcissistic addiction for excellence, blinded, looking through the washed up sight glasses, by our gestaltic pareidolia for universal knowledges, we’re looking up, through the neck above, to interrogate the sense of the divine absence.

Let’s try again, we still have got an other go. [14] The large bottleneck is opened, how to dis-choose ? [13] Our mirrors are as faithful as our windows, how to believe in our reflexions ? Now Entropy grows increasingly, shaking our skiff erratically, how to dis-re-bottle our desperately joyful trip . . as we are the message ?

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