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Дали защото гледа филма Pan's Labyrinth или не, в гроба си Афедо бе отнесъл предварително:

10. Виетнамско чудо, произведено в Китай
5. Огнестрелно оръжие – нe
17. Будилник
21. Музикален инструмент - не
20. Аспирин
15. Религиозни символи - не
2. Сухи цветя 2 бр. (от вида на бодилите) произвенени в USA
1. Ръчно изработен пясъчен часовник - 3 бр.
3. Нокторезачка - ръждавейка, гребенче - дървено, огледалце - счупено.
18. Електроуред - 2 бр.
0. ВНοМАНοЕ (виртуален носител на информация, методично активизирана от НοЕ – Народен институт по елетроника)  - 4 бр.
4. Якички, козметика - 2бр.
16. Джобна машина на времето - 4 бр.
6. Хладно оръжие - не
7. Мина – активирана, ядрена, дългосрочна, свръхчувствителна - 3 бр. (или 5 не се знае с точност)
8. Древна страница от книга, фолософска, неламинирана, с илюстровано приложение - 4 бр.
9. Свежа салата от зеленчуци
11. Спомени - 0 бр.
19. Електрод
13. Презервативи - 2 опаковки, произведени в οрак
14. Скоростомер
12. Перуански амулет за щастие, произведен в ЕU - 4 бр.

- Афедо, Афедо, кога умря? Днес или вчера? Не можем да намерим гроба ти, помогни ни!

Това обяснява защо живота се изниза толкова бързо, защото КАП-а на парашута бе повреден и защо тревата се забожда в очите цяла вечност. В сравнение - при пещерните експерименти "усещането" за денонощие с течение на времето може да намалее до 4 астрономически часа.

Поредната мъртва препратка, не може да се щракне тук:

library.nothingness.org/articles/anar/en/display/306

Ех, ех, тези гущерчета! Кой ли ще ги гушне?!?

*ЧEСТИТ РОЖДЕН ДЕН НА ВСИЧКИ РОДЕНИ ПРЕЗ НОЩТА*
*ЧЕСТИТА РОЖДЕННА НОЩ НА ВСИЧКИ РОДЕНИ ПРЕЗ ДЕНЯ*

http://www.photocritic.org/2007/happy-b … arth-shots

Heidegger, the Erotics of Ontology, and the
Mass-Market Romance

1. The conjunction of these two registers --
philosophy and the mass-market romance -- seems one of
the most unlikely and implausible. It would, at first
glance, appear difficult to defend such an unsteady
union and to confront those numerous skeptics who may
question the interest of such an undertaking. When
cast in the sometimes-garish light of romance,
philosophy may fear its claim to truth will be
obscured by vulgar commonplaces and everyday language.
Yet it is precisely philosophy's fear of corruption
that constitutes the transgressive interest in such a
meeting of "high" and "low." Martin Heidegger's Being
and Time, like most "high" philosophy, declares that
its ontology applies to everyone, no matter the
individual's situation in place or time, his or her
positioning in light of gender or race. The headiness
of this powerful dictation of all human experience is
rarely given to female-coded formula genres such as
mass-market romance. Theorists of the romance, such as
Tania Modleski and Carol Thurston, carefully place
their subject-texts within gendered paradigms, if not
within a whole host of situational specifics. This
essay's project is not to understand mass-market
romance using ideas culled from philosophy, but rather
to illuminate them with the same rarified light as
philosophy. In fact, reading romance as we generally
read philosophy not only sets romance up to speak
about human experience in general, but it also serves
to situate philosophy within a romantic paradigm.
Expanding on Slavoj Zizek's work of elucidating Lacan
and Hegel using detective fiction, film noir and
Hitchcock, this project opens a relationship or
dialogue, if you will, between, on the one hand, a
language of the intellectual depth and breadth to
influence thinking for generations and, on the other
hand, the ephemeral obviousness of a popular language
where meaning lies on the surface, and which gives the
satisfaction of immediate consumption. The surface
also speaks to human experience, in ways that many
philosophical discourses cannot. The side-by-sidedness
of these two registers, to use Gilles Deleuze's term,
deterritorializes painstakingly separated disciplines
or genres, and also class differences inherent in
these registers.

2. The question presses: where is the romance in
philosophy? Is there a philosophical erotic? The
romance of reading philosophy is a truth rarely
acknowledged. To be a student of philosophy is to
desire to master a difficult philosophical text, to
feel the onanistic ache of penetrating into a vast
realm of ideas, the thrilling vibration of the opening
into a manifold metaphysic. In fact the motivation for
metaphysical thinking itself often begins with the
desire for a teacher, a master, and the mind consumed
by the ideas of others which, at least for a time,
seem to expand the self and the mind, almost to the
point of an erotic annihilation. Because philosophical
truth claims ostensibly to apply to everyone, the
reader of philosophy participates in a destruction of
the self, reaching the mind into a place of universal
objectivity, such that the world and all those in it
can be written and spoken about in an enraptured
unity. Heideggerian Dasein is the immolated subject,
ravished of singularity for metaphysical thinking. As
Jean-Luc Nancy points out, the Greek for "philo" means
"love of" or "beloved,"and "sophy" is "wisdom" or
"thinking" (84). Hence philosophy is the love of
thinking: philosophy begins with love. Romance and
philosophy share this origin, this original impetus
for thinking, discourse, and writing, yet romance
takes the more radical position, perhaps an amorous
specificity within the more generic originary
movement: romance is the love of love. Beginning and
ending with love, meaning love at every moment,
romance saturates meaning with this excessive
generosity of desire.

3. When we think of a romantic philosophical text, one
especially attuned to romance's theories of extreme
subjectivity, what texts do we think of? Certainly not
Heidegger's Being and Time, especially given his
explicit and elaborate labor to prove that, for us to
understand Dasein, we must question at the ontological
level, hence a place prior to any ideas of
subjectivity. Nancy argues that Heidegger never writes
about love yet his concept of Mitdasein is a beginning
of such a philosophy (103). Avital Ronell has opened
an erotic pathway into Heidegger through theories of
addiction. And likewise, Hannah Arendt called
Heidegger, somewhat sarcastically, the "last (we hope)
romantic" (qtd. in Ettinger 66). In fact, Arendt had
an erotic relationship with the ideas of her lover and
professor, Heidegger, and philosophy was made, for
her, bodily manifest in her desire for him. To see
Heidegger in the light of a beloved master is to see
him as a Byronic hero, a dangerous lover, as many of
his students did. He consciously created a
relationship with his students that supported his
character of an aloof and mysterious genius, often
tortured by society and the technological world around
him, finally wanting to live, reclusively, in his hut
in the Black Forest, in the solitude he felt was
necessary for his work. The biographer Elzbieta
Ettinger writes, "Aware of his allure to both male and
female students and of his power over their minds,
Heidegger purposely kept his distance, intensifying
the mystique, the awe, the reverence" (11). A student
of his writes that Heidegger "was a little man who
knew how to cast a spell" (11).

4. In 1924, thirty-five years old, married and with
two children, he seduced his eighteen-year-old student
Hannah Arendt. Throughout this relationship, which
lasted in varying forms until Arendt's death,
Heidegger kept his position of controlling master over
his student. Arendt calls her love for Heidegger her
"starre Hingegenbenheit an ein Einziges," or
"unbending devotion to a single one" (Young-Bruehl
53). In the summer of 1925, she wrote a self-portrait
which she called "The Shadows," and sent it to
Heidegger. Inextricably intertwining her own
self-understanding and her love affair with Heidegger,
"The Shadows" describes her entrance into sexual
experience as both a return to a childhood home, and,
in explicitly Heideggerian terms, an "Angst vor dem
Dasein uberhaupt," or an "anxiety over existence in
general" (Young-Bruehl 52). Her experience of her
subjectivity, both her past, retrospectively, and her
future, projectively, becomes cast in the light of her
affair with Heidegger; her very self-discourse becomes
Heideggerian. With this love, she experienced, as she
writes in the third person about herself, "colorful
and strange realms in which she felt at home"
(Young-Bruehl 53). But then this radicality and
estrangement, which she felt had in the past been a
powerful, heimlich (homely) force for her, becomes
fearful, "was now so changed that everything dissolved
or scattered unless she tried in docile devotion to
cling to it, pale and colorless and with the hidden
uncanniness [Unheimlichkeit] of passing shadows" (53).
She no longer felt at home in the world; she calls
herself in a poem, "a homeless one" (57). Not only
does Arendt describe her subjectivity in Heideggerian
terms, she also reads Heidegger's philosophy
romantically. The structure of her romantic
experience, as described briefly above, follows the
amorous structure in the formula of romance that
contains a dangerous hero, yet, alas, without the
happy ending. But it is also structured more or less
like so many of Heidegger's arguments. Heidegger uses
a similar paradigm to make many of his major points,
most specifically in Being in Time. In fact, romance
allegorizes being as such, and, at the same time,
Heidegger's ontological theories allegorize romance,
particularly if read through an Arendtian lens. To
read romance as a kind of philosophy, a love of
thinking intensified such that subjectivity signifies
only this, love, is to understand philosophy's
romance, philosophy as love.

5. One of romance's most interesting theories is that
of "nearness." What happens when the heroine draws
near to the dangerous lover? What is the structure of
this nearness? Most interesting to romance is
Heidegger's theory of ontological "nearness," or
N䨥, particularly a nearness to death. Dangerous
nearness can be divided into three constitutive parts
or rules: The first is flight and entanglement, the
second is the uncanny, and the third is
being-toward-death and being-toward-the-end. These
divisions lend themselves to the following three
arguments. In the first section, I argue that
Heidegger's theory of proximity as mysterious is an
allegory for conventional devices in romance, such as
the undisclosed secret, the misunderstanding, and the
evasion of the beloved. These formulas appear most
clearly in the dangerous lover narrative. In the
second section I look at both Heidegger and Sigmund
Freud's theories of the uncanny in relation to the
dual state of both knowing and not knowing about being
in love with the stranger from the beginning of the
romance, which then lends an erotic uncanniness to
"falling in love" that happens throughout the
narrative. The final section explores Heidegger's
formulation of how understanding existence begins with
death, and the ways that this is the same formula for
the structure of the dangerous lover romance -- with
each moment touching on the finality of ending.

Flight and Entanglement

6. The first rule of nearness states the paradox that
what would appear to be nearest, in its familiarity,
homely-ness, or heimlichkeit, and the most easily
accessible and handy, lies furthest away from what is
authentically most our own. Hence, what is nearest to
one is what is most unfamiliar, strange, and
angst-producing. Moving closer authentically or
understandingly causes what is familiar to withdraw.
Heidegger's understanding of this paradoxical
structure of nearness begins with the everyday. One of
Dasein's everyday ways of being is entanglement in the
average, which is an evasion and flight from the
authentic possibilities of one's being. Heidegger
believes that one of the fundamental structures of
Dasein is the tendency to understand oneself through
the immediate surrounding world nearest to one, an
average "work-world" where useful objects are
encountered. This world of "useful things" includes
the "they" -- the public that represents an
averageness, "which prescribes what can and may be
ventured, watches over every exception, which thrusts
itself to the fore... [thus], every mystery loses its
power." The "they" creates a "leveling down of all
possibilities of being" (Heidegger 127). Because a
constitutive factor of Dasein is to understand itself
in regards to what appears to be nearest, in its
average everyday working, it becomes entangled in the
everyday, not understanding that there is a more
authentic Dasein, which is actually nearer, covered
over by this "tranquilized" being. As the above quote
points out, this authentic being is akin to the power
of mystery. Authentic Dasein comes from understanding
oneself as one's own possibilities, as a singular,
finite being, rather than as what is already real and
available as a part of "publicness." In an authentic
"kind of coming near," Heidegger writes, "one does not
tend toward making something real available and taking
care of it, but as one comes nearer understandingly,
the possibility of the possible only becomes
'greater'"(Heidegger 262). For Dasein to come near in
this way, which we could call a kind of transcendence,
is to see all that is real, that could be "spelled
out" withdraw. Heidegger emphasizes, "[t]he nearest
nearness of being-toward-death as possibility is as
far removed as possible from anything real" (Heidegger
262). The situation of this nearness to greater and
greater possibility, or to a kind of unknown, lies
somehow "inside" one -- as possibilities, which belong
only to this individual Dasein. With this nearness,
one draws closer and closer to what is both the most
obscure and the most free -- a freeing of all
possibility -- yet still what is so close that it is
one's own existence itself. Maurice Blanchot describes
this type of nearness as a proximity, which retains
its unknownness because one does not have the distance
to see it. In fact, he explains closeness itself as
"... an experience that one will represent to oneself
as being strange and even as the experience of
strangeness. But if it is so, let us recognize that it
is this not because it is too removed. On the
contrary, it is so close that we are prohibited from
taking any distance from it -- it is foreign in it
very proximity" (45).

7. Heidegger's nearness is a romantic allegory, and it
particularly allegorizes an attraction for a dangerous
lover, as described in many formula romances. Flight
from the beloved and the evasion of immanent love
describes the basic plot structure of the dangerous
lover formula. Immanent love defines the complete
presence of both lovers, as equally confessed lovers,
beloved together in the same place and at the same
time. All meaning is finally immanent and this is the
final aim, or the climax and ending of the book. This
full presence of love states the love story's meaning;
everything in the narrative means this, and this is
all it means. Clearly love's completion defines
romance, but with the dangerous lover formula, love's
presence constitutes the end of the story; all events
tend toward this culmination. Yet "to tend toward"
here, means both to flee, to cover over and to always
be in a movement toward. Again we see Heidegger's
nearness here -- the moving closer which causes
familiar nearness to withdraw. The structure of this
proposition -- the fleeing movement of love -- lies in
withheld secrets, postponements, misunderstandings,
and evasion.

8. One register of flight and entanglement in our
formula is the almost ubiquitous plot device in
formula romance of the undisclosed secret(s) between
the hero and the heroine, which provides convenient
postponements of the climax. Both the hero and the
heroine can keep secrets from each other, and usually
do, which cause misunderstandings and distance. For
example, in Barbara Dawson Smith's Seduced by a
Scoundrel, the heroine, Alicia Pemberton, is
deliberately deceived by the hero, Drake Wilder, into
thinking that he is a heartless gambler who wants only
to antagonize her (to find out more about Smith and
the following romance writers, including biographical
information, websites, and e-mail addresses, link to
<http://www.slake.com/>). He does this because he
plots to hide the truth of his paternity, until the
right moment, which will maximize his revenge on his
father, who has refused to acknowledge him as his son.
That he has this secret pain, this strange and
unfamiliar interiority, makes him dangerous, and
causes Alicia to flee him as someone who frightens her
and will betray her love. Yet she is, finally, evading
her beloved, her final ending. It is fated that what
she flees, the terrors of the unknown other, is what
will finally engulf her, when secrets are exteriorized
in amorous unity.

9. In Dorothy Garlock's Wind of Promise, the hero,
Kain Debolt, must be cold and distant toward the
heroine, Vanessa, even though he has fallen deeply in
love with her, because he thinks he is dying of
stomach cancer. He cannot disclose this information to
her, because he does not want her to see him as sick
and vulnerable, and less of a man. He must constantly
push her away, which confuses her and causes her to
think he is hostile. Yet she can see he has erotic
feelings for her and she senses that he has a secret:
"Kain said the words simply, and Vanessa turned to
look at him. She was surprised to see a deep sadness
in his golden brown eyes, and a flood of tenderness
and longing swept through her body. On seeing that
smile, Kain felt the full pain of his regret"
(99-100). The secret sadness causes the longing to
sweep through her body.

10. Heidegger sees truth, or aletheia, as an act of
uncovering or the unhidden. The desire, love, of both
philosophy and romance is to reveal the truth, to
illuminate and bring it to a confession. The loved one
envelops and imprisons unknown worlds, which must be
deciphered. The erotically charged removal of the veil
points to the spark from which this erotic originates
-- the veil itself. The hiding and the disclosing of
the secret both create eroticism. Clearly,
secretiveness is itself erotic. From Seduced: "She
wanted to feel the warmth of Drake's arms around her.
She wanted to learn all of the secrets of his past"
(Smith 206). In fact the flight from love, the
beloved, through postponement by the secret stands as
the basis of the erotic in the dangerous lover
formula. Postponement is the erotic. Hence the evasion
of immanent love -- thematically the transcendence or
sublime in romance -- enacts paradoxically a moving
closer to an everyday familiarity, away from a
secretive estrangement in flight and evasion, yet it
is also always already a move toward the full presence
of meaning -- the full confessions of all secrets at
the climax of the book. Furthermore, when the heroine
draws near to the hero through everyday knowledge that
comes from such types of nearness as sight, touch, and
discourse, the immanence of love appears to fail,
because this nearness is misread as something other
than love. What will finally be love is sidetracked
into other valences such as loss of self-worth and
will; or the sex equals love equation, required for
this plot, will go awry, becoming domesticated and
miniaturized as a "one-night stand," "pure lust," or
"open hostility."

11. Dasein, as essentially structured, misinterprets.
Like Dasein, another register of the evasion of the
beloved is through misreading, generally of the eyes
and the face. The heroine, and sometimes the hero, of
this formula are bad readers. Often misreading occurs
through not knowing the language, the gestures, of the
other, which are fugitive and migrant to such an
extent that they cannot be deciphered. Eyes are points
of mystery; they speak of the possibility of
transcendence in romance, and hence they are often
misread. Things that flash in character's eyes contain
lost scenes of access and end up closing off
possibility, at least for a hundred or so pages,
rather than opening it. In Smith's Seduced, Alicia
attempts to read Drake's eyes: "Something flashed in
his eyes, a starkness she couldn't read" (178), "'I
wonder,' she mused, 'if you want me to think badly of
you.' For a heartbeat, something flashed in his eyes.
Something that came and went so quickly, she couldn't
be sure if it was surprise or annoyance. Or something
else entirely" (164). If Alicia were a good reader,
she could understand Drake's flashing eyes as love for
her. Instead she sees this flash as anger, hostility,
or something undefined which points to his
scoundrelhood. Unlike the romantic mainstay that the
eyes are mirrors to the soul, here again meaning
fails, and presence delays. In the romance, the soul's
illumination appears only in the presence of love.

12. In Lord of Danger, the heroine thinks, "as usual,
his expression was impossible to read" (Stuart 226)
and also that "there was no reading his expression; he
was adept at covering his reaction"(28). In Lord of
Midnight, Claire describes Renald as a "cryptic
script" (Beverly 234). "What was he thinking? She had
no idea. She longed for a spontaneous word or gesture
by which to judge him, but he was as incomprehensible
as a text she'd once seen written in the Arabic
script" (65). And, finally, "he simply stared back
with that implacable, unreadable, complex expression"
(66). That he can't be read causes him to be
dangerous, to envelop a secret space the heroine would
like to plumb. The hardness of his exterior, like a
mask, presents a cryptogram or a blank page for which
the heroine, in the end when all meaning is present,
will crack the code, which is only the discovery of
one word -- love. The phrase "I love you" presents the
completion of the narrative.

13. Another scene of misunderstanding involves
hearing. Often the hero mutters things under his
breath. The heroine does not understand these
murmurings, although clearly they are presages of the
final end. "Through the heat haze of her own passion,
she heard Luke mutter something beneath his breath and
then he was kissing her mouth" (Jordan 161). "And she
could hear it [intense desire] in the harsh sound of
the air escaping from his lungs as he muttered
something unintelligible under his breath and then,
leaning back against the wall, urged her between his
parted thighs" (Jordan 142). To hear the beloved is to
fail to comprehend the whispers and garbled words that
mean nothing other than love, repeated in an enchanted
speech, suspended of meaning other than that the
secret will be disclosed.

14. The series of failures in formula romance point to
an important difference between pornography and
mass-market romance. Pornography is always a utopia,
hence Stephen Marcus's term "pornotopia." In
pornography everyone always wins because men always
have erections at the right moment; women always
desire what the man wants to give them; the orgasm, or
the "money shot," always happens right on time,
simultaneously, more or less, for both parties. In
pornography, everything comes into sexual usage, all
objects and subjects are part of the sexual play. For
instance, in a pornographic scene, a tree becomes
erotic because it is only a secret place to have sex.
A telephone's only use is to set up a sexual
rendezvous. Conversation is only good for seduction.
However, in romance, almost everything acts as a
catalyst to pull the hero and heroine apart. In
dystopic romance, all senses, discourse, and objects,
are sites and scenes of failure. Here we are in
amorous time, where impulse and act do not coincide,
where speaking and understanding miss their proper
destination. Peggy Kamuf, in "Jealousy Wants Proof,"
writes of jealousy in a similar vein: wanting to have
knowledge of the beloved is to be confronted with the
impossibility of ever knowing the other (see
<http://www.b92.net/casopis_rec/59.5/pdf/429-445.pdf>).

15. Failure also comes with the evasion or covering
over of love, through misunderstanding seduction or
ravishment. The missed arrival of love occurs through
a doubled misreading, both of the heroine herself and
the hero. In the dangerous lover formula, sex between
the hero and heroine is never solely a material or
physical act; hence it does not contain the
"meatiness" or purely transparent usage pornography,
which is merely to "get off"; sex in romance always
must lead to an excess of meaning, the full presence
of love. Because it is a possible point of access to
transcendence, like the eyes and their flashing, sex
constructs a site of Heideggerian nearness. Hence sex
creates a continued failure of presence, until the
completed pure portion. The heroine misreads her own
sexual desire as, rather than the presence of love,
"merely" a lack of contained control on her part, or
an embarrassed weakness of the senses, or a
too-passionate sensuality which she must avoid, unless
she becomes seduced into a loveless affair. She does
not understand that she is always already in love with
him -- dazzlement at first sight, so to speak, or on
the first page. Rosemary Rogers's A Dangerous Man,
contains many of these false arrivals, with an initial
ravishment and then later regrets: "Her mouth opened
to... protest? surrender? ... and his tongue slid
inside in a sizzling exploration that shocked a moan
from her.... Her head fell back, and all thought of
resistance faded into something else, strange new
emotions he had somehow awakened in her, emotions that
made her cling to him" (82). "But inside, she was sick
with the knowledge that she had once more ignored
convention and wisdom and decency to throw herself at
a man who took her casually and then discarded her
just as casually. But what had she thought? That he
would declare himself in love with her? That he would
beg her to go away with him? No, that sort of thing
happened only in romantic tales, not in real life"
(183).

16. What is covered over here is the authentic meaning
of this event -- the touch and feel of the radiance of
the beloved's body -- and meaning is evaded through an
everyday publicness of sex equaling lust, a one-night
stand, or open hostility, rape. Hence the structure of
a paradoxical move toward while moving away occurs,
where the most intimate erotic, or what feels to be
the closest, the most familiar touch, pulls the hero
and heroine away from each other into an increasingly
solitary, melancholy despair. Yet the despair will
finally lead to full meaning itself. She wants him but
she will only have him if he really loves her, which
she is convinced that he does not, generally because
of his "dangerousness" -- i.e., secretiveness,
misanthropy, etc. Another example can be found in
Haywood Smith's Border Lord: "Slowly, deliberately,
Duncan approached her, blatant hunger in his eyes.
What did he mean to do? Catherine's arms tightened
around Nevin, her heart beating faster. Part of her
wanted to flee, but the greater part of her wanted
Duncan Maxwell to kiss her again" (192). Other
misunderstandings occur with the heroine's
misinterpretation of the hero's touch. The question
above, "What did he mean to do?" is a mainstay in this
formula, clearly dating back to the Gothic heroine
confronted by the villain, which is "Kill me? Rape me?
Lock me up in a dungeon?" Generally, in the dangerous
lover formula, the heroine believes he does not love
her but merely desires her sexually or even hates her
and wants to revenge himself through seducing or
raping her. She lives "tranquilized" into the everyday
publicness of "everyone feels lust, hence that is what
he (and I) feels." She evades the end and finite
destiny, her final meaning that leads to thematic
transcendence.

17. The sexual encounters between the hero and the
heroine in our formula of romance stand as, to use a
phrase of De Man's, "allegories of reading" the
romance. Like the heroine, the reader both wants and
does not want the heroine to speed toward sexual
consummation. The continued titillation of the
postponement, the ache of the unfolding of the plot
structure cause the reader to quicken forward, or to
skip ahead, for the final full meaning of the end of
the story. But at the same time, the reader wants to
slow down, savor, and read with lassitude and
inattention, because the erotic also lies in this
delay. The heroine wants the full presence of sexual
satiation to remain open, incomplete, to continue
drawing her on through the narrative, just like the
reader. A commonplace comparison links narrative
itself to the structure of sexual foreplay and the
final orgasmic climax. In the evasion, in the failure
and covering over of presence, lies, again, the erotic
of this type of romance. And at each titillating point
of these plot tensions can be found both the failure
and a movement of or toward success. Romance uncovers
the success in failure in Heidegger. Heidegger
stresses that what he calls "authentic" or
"inauthentic" being is not a value judgement; Dasein
is both authentic and inauthentic; these both have the
status of merely modes of being of Dasein. It is
important to note that, on some level, it is via the
everyday and the "vulgar" that authenticity comes
about. In the dangerous lover formula of romance, it
becomes clear that failure is the movement of success,
and that transcendence arrives out of the everyday;
fluidity exists between the two at every moment.

Uncanny Nearness

18. Heidegger, like Freud, interests himself in the
etymology of this word -- unheimlich. Both point to
the "heim," or "home" at the heart but Heidegger is
primarily interested in its meaning of "unhomeliness"
as in "not-at-home." Heidegger even goes so far as to
write, "Being-in enters into the existential 'mode' of
the 'not-at-home.' Nothing else is meant by our talk
about 'uncanniness'" (189). Yet being not-at-home is
directly related to angst; hence the anxiety and even
terror of this position is also part of Heidegger's
uncanny. Dasein feels at home in entangled absorption
in the "they," in inauthenticity. When Dasein turns
away from the everyday, toward angst,
being-toward-death, and authenticity, it feels
uncanny, because it is not-at-home; it is individuated
and thrown onto its own potentialities. Heidegger
states that "uncanniness is the fundamental kind of
being-in-the-world" (277). For Dasein to be uncanny is
to be "individualized to itself" and "absolutely
unmistakable to itself" (256). Hence when Dasein draws
closest to itself, it is nearest to the most
unfamiliar and strange possibility of itself, which is
again Heidegger's structure of nearness. This
definition of the uncanny can be expanded. When Dasein
understands its absorption in the "they" as an evasion
and tranquilization, and turns away from it into a
potentiality-of-being, then not only does Dasein feel
a sense of being not-at-home in one's
potentiality-of-being, but the "home" itself takes on
an aspect of not belonging to one, because Dasein
realizes the home's "publicness," its status as not
"owned" by individuated Dasein. The potential for
uncanniness then permeates the movement (which is
itself always possible) of Dasein within both the
everyday and potentiality of being. When Dasein is
face to face with its own being, in its potential, the
uncanny feeling is not just a sense of being
not-at-home, it is also a sense of this strangeness
being itself at the heart of one's own existence, a
"home" truth which has been undisclosed.

19. A clearer understanding of the romantic
implications of Heidegger's uncanny comes from Freud's
ideas on the unheimlich. Freud takes his idea of the
uncanny further with his insight that concealment is
an aspect of the work of the uncanny. Heidegger sees
the uncanny merely as being "not-at-home;" he does not
see concealment as an uncanny liminal, or as integral
to creating the uncanny. Freud describes an uncanny
feeling, a "dread and creeping horror," coming from,
among other things, the revivification through an
event or experience, of an idea repressed, or
concealed in the hinter-regions of the unconscious.
Freud writes, "the 'uncanny' is that class of the
terrifying which leads back to something long known to
us, once very familiar" (369-70). Hence the uncanny
brings about a "creepiness" not only because one feels
"not-at-home" in the unfamiliar and strange
experience, but also because, at the heart of the
strange, there is a sense of home, of a deep
interiority, of a place already visited. The already
concealed which is now partially or entirely
disclosed, moves the uncanny into feeling. This
feeling also lies in the fact that what is dreadful is
"inside" us, it "belongs" to us, individually, and we
have been responsible for both producing and
concealing it. Shelley's Victor Frankenstein has this
reaction upon knowing his creation: Oh God, it's mine.

20. Another etymological thread related to "heim" is
"geheim," which also has the "home" in it but it means
"secret" or "concealed." We already know of the
"secret home" because of the Heideggerian idea that,
in an everyday way, authentic homes are "secret." This
helps to unravel why the secret is such an important
theme to the dangerous lover romance. The romantic
heroine's potential, her "authentic," lies in the
presence of love. Her "ownmost" possibility is
unconcealed, disclosed meaning. Her possibility as
fully present to love is the secret behind all other
secrets and this is her final "home" -- destiny, fate.
As one hero thinks to himself, "he ... had known the
moment he looked at her that he was confronting his
own fate" (Jordan 424). And an example of this home:
"A cry sounded in her throat; then her legs parted and
he was inside her. This was his true coming home, the
only one that mattered" (Rogers, Evelyn 287). And
another "home" scene: "that bewildering notion that
somehow she had found that special wondrous place;
that special wondrous person who was her real home,
that knowledge somehow or other Luke had reached out
and touched the very core of her innermost being and
because of that... because of him the whole of her
life would be changed forever" (Jordan 155).
Similarly, we see this site of undisclosing in Border
Lord. "With that simple profession [of love], all the
broken pieces of Catherine's life shaped themselves
into a picture of perfect provision. Suddenly she saw
how everything had worked to bring them to this
wondrous moment" (Smith 369). For the heroine to draw
closer to her "ownmost" self, is for her to move
nearer to a dangerous, even terrifying other, who is
her home. Like Dasein, what has been concealed, the
presence of the true love, is something that has been
"known" all along. Hence the undisclosing (unclothing)
of this love leads to the uncanny: "A heightened
sensation of portent, of standing on the edge of
something vital and life changing shook her, a feeling
of uncannily clear-minded perception that suddenly,
here and now... she was facing something immensely
important" (Jordan 316). And this undisclosing reveals
what was already there. "There was a wonderful,
exhilarating sense of release and freedom... in being
able to cast aside her guard and acknowledge, admit,
that the desire for him, which she was now allowing to
express itself, had been there virtually from the
first time they met. It existed even if she herself
had tried to force it underground and keep it hidden
away" (Jordan 328). The structure of this uncanny
situates a sense of strangeness in the heart of what
is one's own -- the true love and final destiny in an
other who appears hostile and dangerous. But, in that
it discloses, the heroine also feels that this is
something that has been "there" all along but that she
has concealed. Instead of horror in the uncanny
moment, in romance it is the titillating ache of the
"Oh God, it's mine." So, in some sense, while it
sometimes appears that the heroine is moving
inexorably toward her fate, a mere puppet in the hands
of the machinations of the hero, she is always in what
is her "own." Or, in the end, he is "inside" her. For
example, in My Lady Pirate, "She felt as though he had
found a secret entrance into her belly, into her
bones. She felt that he was folded inside her" (Doyle
121).

21. Because the hero finally appears to be the
heroine's, everything she ever wanted and all hers,
another possibility of the uncanny can be pointed to
-- the double. She doubles herself, a dangerous and
unfamiliar part of herself, in the hero. This is an
inverse Heideggerian nearness; what is interior to the
heroine, hence very near, has been projected out as
something foreign and unknown, to be regained,
recalled, rediscovered outside of herself, yet
"interior." She does not have full access to, or
integration with, this other part of herself until the
end, although she has glimpses of access throughout.
This explains the language of union and becoming "one"
that is the usual romantic fare, particularly in the
realm of full presence. For example: "... he had the
illogical sense that they had ceased to be two
separate beings. As one, they cried out with the
exploration of ecstasy" (Smith, Haywood 213). "His
mouth closed hungrily over hers in a moist, deep,
endless kiss. It seemed to Vanessa that they were no
longer two separate people, but one blended together
by magic" (Garlock 358). The reintegration of the
strange self leads to an odd looping of time, which
both the reader and the heroine experience. The loop
occurs because the end -- union in love -- is
prefigured in the beginning, and all along, as it is
at the same time concealed. So the end seems to be
both a completion, a closure, and a return to an
origin, to the beginning. The end does not feel to be
a narrative progression forward or a move backwards,
but the meeting of both the arrival and the setting
off.

22. The romantic uncanny unfolds in each moment of the
romance. The narrative is an amalgamation of moments
with a give and take of both "owned" movement, and
"ravished" movement. Like Dasein, there is an
oscillation within flight and arrival in each episode.
The postponement and erotic failures are a "never yet"
and an "almost," again and again. We have seen this
oscillation already, in reference to sexual
encounters. Oscillation can create an almost suspended
animation that often occurs in these encounters, the
movement at once of both moving toward and away, which
comes from the uncovering what one already knows, and
its re-concealment. There is a sense that the heroine
always already knows she is in love with him, and that
she sees the movement of her narrative ending, while
at the same time fleeing and evading it. The sexual
suspended animation has the uncanniness almost of an
automaton in frozen motion, which partakes of both
union and alienation. The heroine automaton's fate in
the romance is inexorable, and yet realized always,
created as perfection from the beginning.

Nearness and Being-Toward-Death

23. The loop in time, or the retrograde narrativity of
the dangerous lover formula, is such that the whole of
the story functions in relation to the ending; all of
the narrative "happens" because of, or in light of,
the end. Dasein, as stated earlier, is always a
"being-not-yet," or a relation to a potential.
Dasein's fundamental structure consists of its quality
of being "ahead-of-itself." Dasein always relates
itself to the possibilities that it will become; in
this sense, Dasein is always beyond itself, as it
already is. "The not-yet is already included in its
own being, by no means as an arbitrary determination,
but as a constituent... Dasein is always already its
not-yet as long as it is" (Heidegger 244). As soon as
there is nothing more "missing," then Dasein will
cease to be. The "aheadness" of Dasein is measurable
by a relation to its end. What is "ahead" is definable
by Dasein's individuated existence, being always
toward its end. The romance runs also
"ahead-of-itself" -- each moment relates to the
immanence of love, the death of the narrative. Each
moment moves beyond itself, always a "not-yet" but
also always in anticipation of ending. The catching up
that happens in the end equals death, with nothing
more "missing." "Aheadness" serves as a further
explanation of sexual encounters as suspended
animation. Because an erotic scene, or any scene, is
always ahead-of-itself, it projects itself forward, it
runs ahead to its end. As still a sexual scene and in
this sense, present, ending flavors it.

24. The immanence of love illuminates each moment of
the story and gives it its sole meaning, purpose,
presence. This end figures, in some sense, a kind of
death, as this moment of full immanence happens once,
briefly, and it always means the end of the romance.
The romance exhausts itself in plenitude. A sense of a
poignant flurry of activity runs throughout the
narrative, which speeds toward the final satiety.
Often a speedy erotic pushes the narrative; there is
never enough time to have all of the sensual feelings
the hero and heroine might. "She wanted to have the
time to do her own share of gazing ... but she
couldn't. Quite simply, they didn't have the time. She
didn't have the time and the feeling that engulfed her
as she saw that he was ready for her turned the whole
of her insides to liquid heat" (Jordan 165). They do
not have time because the end of the narrative nears,
and they must fit in, through intensification, all the
love and sex they can. Each scene or potential, secret
togetherness is consumed by its relation to the end.
Georg Lukacs, in his comprehensive theory of the
history of the novel states that, "we might almost say
that the entire inner action of the novel is nothing
but a struggle against the power of time" (122). The
consummation of each moment explains why fire and
burning desire appear to be such important symbols to
romance. Dorchester Publishers even has a romance
series called "Secret Fires." An example of how fire
functions: "Wrapping her arms around his neck, she
returned his kiss. Fires burned within her, consuming
flames that had been a secret even from her" (Rogers,
Evelyn 119). Life is being consumed, used up, by love.
"She responded with all the ardor he could have wished
for. She burned the cares of the day from him, the
troubles of the past, the worries about what tomorrow
might hold" (Rogers, Evelyn 288). The secret fire of
love will leave nothing but the end of the story, the
end of our hero and heroine.

25. The poignancy of love in romance comes from the
sense that, once the full presence of love arrives,
the characters will be gone, die to their narrative,
because there is nothing left to be said. Love becomes
a fantasy of dying. Barthes writes that love is a
"death liberated from dying" (12). Death itself is an
important theme for the dangerous lover formula and
for romance as a whole. Often a near death experience
finally brings full confessions or realizations of
love. Death as a possibility illuminates the fragility
and mortality of the beloved, of the ache of bodily
existence. The dangerous lover plot is often set up so
that the hero has some reason or desire to kill the
heroine. In Lord of Hawkfell Island, Rorik Haraldsson
seeks vengeance for the brutal murder of his family by
Einar. He kidnaps Einar's half-sister, Mirana. He
mistreats her extremely, at various points trying to
kill her. She also attempts to murder him. In Lord of
Danger, Alys thinks to herself: "She would be no match
for him if it came to a battle... He would be the
death of her, perhaps" (Stuart 23). For his part, "He
could kill this tender young girl who was so very
great a threat to him" (209). In the end of Lord of
Danger, at the final sexual climax, Alys, in her love,
feels "lost in a sudden darkness that felt like death"
(286). One dangerous lover romance, which deals with
the metaphor of the movement of love as "dying"
explicitly, is Garlock's Wind of Promise. As described
earlier, the hero, Kain Debolt, thinks he is dying of
stomach cancer from when he first meets the heroine,
up to the very end. The more he falls in love with
her, the more he feels the pain of dying. The climax
of the book comes when he finds out he will not die,
that he does not have stomach cancer -- only an ulcer
-- and hence he is free to be fully present in his
love, and in Vanessa's love. The theme, which is
explicit in this narrative, becomes a figurative
movement in this formula. The lovers are slowly dying,
of love. The classic love story is, of course, Romeo
and Juliet. Not only do both the lovers die in the end
for love, but they are doomed as soon as they fall in
love, and the play is a slow movement toward death --
a play of mourning. The death is their love: love
equals death. Nancy writes, "Love offers finitude in
its truth; it is finitude's dazzling presentation"
(99). In this relation of love to dying, there is the
commonly discussed tie between sex and death. The
petit mort, or Liebestod, wherein the orgasm is a kind
of little death, and sex is dangerous because of the
possibility of the dissolution of the self in ecstasy
and sublimity, is ubiquitous in the dangerous lover
formula. Yet here I am more interested in death in
relation to narrativity, or being-toward-death.

26. The link between death and love leads to another
manifestation of Heideggerian nearness, touched on
previously, the idea of an authentic being of Dasein
as a "being-toward-death." Heidegger argues,
radically, that Dasein can only be understood by
understanding first its end. Even the beginning of
Dasein must be understood by leading back to it from
the end. This convoluted ontology clearly allegorizes
the narrativity of the dangerous lover formula.
Everyday or inauthentic being-toward-death is a
covering over of the certainty of death, concealing
"that it is possible in every moment" (Heidegger 258).
As Heidegger explains, "As soon as a human being is
born, he is old enough to die right away" (245). With
authentic being-toward-death, death is understood as
always a possibility, an indefinite certainty;
Dasein's authenticity toward death is a "holding for
true" -- is letting this conviction (of the certainty
of death) overcome one. This overcoming is a dwelling
with the fact that death could come at any moment,
which leads to finding Dasein as a whole, as an
individuated whole. An authentic being-toward-death
does not evade death but makes it Dasein's own as a
possibility. A being-toward-this-possibility does not
relate to something actual, but rather it exists
"toward" an unknown possibility, which is nevertheless
not to be bypassed and belongs uniquely to each
Dasein. Hence existence is at each moment a living
with death, a living ready to die, a living always
"running ahead" to the end. The structure of this
"running ahead" is a way that Dasein is face-to-face
with its own self. Dasein is then free to relate to
itself as finite. In the shadow of existence's end
(death), in the impossibility of existence Dasein's
possibility opens up. Heidegger writes, "The more
clearly this possibility is understood, the more
purely does understanding penetrate to it as the
possibility of the impossibility of existence in
general.... It is the possibility of the impossibility
of every mode of behavior toward ... of every way of
existing. In running ahead to this possibility, it
becomes "greater and greater," that is, reveals itself
as something which knows no measure at all, no more or
less, but means the possibility of the measureless
impossibility of existence.... As anticipation of
possibility, being-toward-death first makes this
possibility possible and sets it free as possibility"
(262).

27. Because the impossibility of existence is so
possible, always already possible and a constitutive
part of existence, and because this impossibility --
death of existence -- is measureless, it is living in
the face of death which gives Dasein its freedom of
possibility. This is partially because death
individuates everyone. Heidegger states that we each
die our own death; no one can die for us. We can only
experience death by dying, by our existence becoming
impossible. "No one can take the other's dying away
from him" (240). Heidegger's ideas on
being-toward-death allegorize the narrative structure
of the dangerous lover formula's own
being-toward-an-end. "As soon as a romantic heroine is
born, she is old enough to die (fall in love) right
away." The series of failures that hold off "dying"
are required to make the full presence of love
possible. It is out of the continual failure of
presence, or the impossibility of existence, that the
possibility will come about. The certainty of love
(death) often overcomes the heroine; it is an idea
"held for true" especially when most evaded, flown
from. Every moment of the romance "runs ahead" to the
immanence of love at the end. The melancholy ache of
dangerous love consists in impossibility illuminating
possibility, which gives it its measurelessness. From
The Loner: "Her love was so vast, all of Texas could
not contain it. It leapt into the sky and circled the
moon" (Rogers, Evelyn 268). And love, while also being
finite, a circumscribable fatality, does lead to a
measurelessness, at the heart of failure and death.
Its measurelessness moves vertically, contained in the
moment's intensification and excessiveness, which
speeds toward the end. Amorous time is a minute
infinity in a moment of loving.

28. The eternity of romance comes in the redemption at
the end, the ecstatic, erotic closure; the epiphanic
ending holds all meaning immanent. The perfect union
has been created, and, in some sense, the end of a
romance is the end of all need for romance. Everything
arrives solved, beautiful, and complete; everything
will be happy from now on. Yet this apparent closure
is only apparent; this perfection immediately breaks
down into a repetition. The end of the romance leads
to the beginning of a new one, which is the meaning of
formulaic genre, that it can be repeated, replicated,
again and again. Romance teaches us that love, like
philosophy and thinking itself, is never completed.
Each declaration of "I love you" is finite and utterly
singular, yet in its abundance of meaning, it means
both everything and nothing. To say "I love you"
points to a singular place and time, with a unique and
always changing self that speaks, "I," and a "you"
whose status is always uncertain. In this sense, its
meaning is so fleeting, we might say that we can never
agree on a meaning for this utterance. Yet everyone
knows what love means; to love is to exist as such: to
think, to be, to philosophize. The "I love you" is
what can be repeated, perhaps must be repeated. Nancy
writes, "Love in its singularity, when it is grasped
absolutely, is itself perhaps nothing but the
indefinite abundance of all possible loves, and an
abandonment to their dissemination, indeed to the
disorder of these explosions" (83). The "I love you"
points to "the abundance of all possible loves." The
prodigality of the "I love you" is that, while it ends
a particular love story, it also stretches beyond it,
indicating a future "I love you." Nancy names love:
"it is always the furthest movement of a completion"
(92). It is not a completion, only a movement of one,
a finality opening out to a series of other
finalities. The love story, like philosophy, is in
Arendt's words, a way of temporarily placating an
"anxiety of existence in general," by first calling
this anxiety forth in failed transcendence and then
annihilating the anxiety in the swoon of full meaning
of love or the immanence of truth, which has the
finality, fatality of the last plenitude. But this
truth, this love, is never completed; while it appears
fully illuminated and transparent, its ecstatic
completion always points to another truth, more love.

Works Cited

Barthes, Roland. Lover's Discourse. New York: Farrar
Strauss Giroux, 1979.
Beverly, Jo. Lord of Midnight. New York: Topaz, 1998.
Blanchot, Maurice. The Infinite Conversation. Trans.
Susan Hanson. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1993.
Coulter, Catherine. Lord of Hawkfell Island. New York:
Jove, 1993.
Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand
Plateaus. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987.
Doyle, Elizabeth. My Lady Pirate. New York:
Kensington, 2001.
Ettinger, Elzbieta. Arendt and Heidegger. New Haven:
Yale UP, 1995.
Freud, Sigmund. "The Uncanny." Collected Papers. Vol.
4. Trans. Joan Riviere. New York: Basic Books, 1959.
368-407.
Garlock, Dorothy. Wind of Promise. New York: Warner
1987.
Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Trans. Joan
Stambaugh. New York: State U of New York P, 1996.
Jordan, Penny. The Crightons. New York: Harlequin,
2001.
Kamuf, Peggy. "Jealousy Wants Proof." R.E.C. 59.5
(2000):
<http://www.b92.net/casopis_rec/59.5/pdf/429-445.pdf>.
Lukacs, Georg. The Theory of the Novel. Trans. Anna
Bostock. Cambridge: MIT, 1994.
Marcus, Stephan. The Other Victorians. New York:
Basic, 1966.
Modleski, Tania. Loving with a Vengeance. New York:
Routledge, 1994.
Nancy, Jean-Luc. The Inoperative Community. Ed. and
trans. Peter Connor. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P,
1991.
Rogers, Evelyn. The Loner. New York: Leisure, 2001.
Rogers, Rosemary. A Dangerous Man. New York: Avon,
1996.
Ronell, Avital. Crack Wars: Literature Addiction
Mania. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 1992.
Slake Archive (2003): <http://www.slake.com/>.
Smith, Barbara Dawson. Seduced by a Scoundrel. New
York: St. Martin's, 1999.
Smith, Haywood. Border Lord. New York: St. Martin's,
2001.
Stuart, Anne. Lord of Danger. New York: Zebra Books,
1997.
Thurston, Carol. The Romance Revolution: Erotic Novels
for Women and the Quest for a New Sexual Identity.
Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987.
Young-Bruehl, Elisabeth. Hannah Arendt: For Love of
the World. New Haven: Yale UP, 1982.
Zizek, Slavoj. Enjoy Your Symptom! New York:
Routledge, 1992.

__________________________________________________

...ето, че отново се зачетохме в Хераклит "Русия"

Напоследък като че ли е все по-модерно да се завихрят събития около съвременни западни мислители. Подчертаваме категорично: не "с участието на", а "около". Още прииждащи вербализирани нравопоучения, още излишно-съживителни наслагвания на времеви пластове, които са особено ускорени чрез онзи натрапчиво специфичен "френски неопресонализъм". Около това френско име в орбита ще биват около дванадесет български, което е похвално, предимно затова, че са само толкова. Това френско име дори не е двойна звезда като тази на Дельоз и Гатари, което напомня, повече случката Дерида в София преди години, отколкото случката Хабермас в една друга хронотопология.
Не е етично да се организират мисли около живи мислители, пък дори и те да са френски. Ден след смъртта им - да, но не и преди това!
Ние не работим за вас, поне не и по този така режисиран начин и появителните понятия за "режим" оттук, в каквато и да е модалност на "сега". ο не забравяйте: Времето ви наблюдава!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Двадесетминутката > НБУ/Департамент Философия и cоциология/310 зала – 1 корпус/6 декември, четвъртък/16:40 – 17:00 изглежда ще трае не повече от десетина секунди ;)  :(
Архиви от този колоквиум "къде и кога" могат да бъдат намерени и при какви разбирания на режим на историчност, попаднали в книгата? ο с какво и на кого тази книга ще помогне - на университетското издателство или на настоящите обитатели на университета? Етиката е в предсмъртността. По-добре попитайте за това fphgrb01.

Yasska, защо не щракнеш набързо една снимка-есе на Победителите в открития разговор със студентите от ООК 030 на г-н Артог?

Лека нощ!

Я. "Не можем ли да променим закона - толкова по-зле за закона" - би казал някой хегелианстващ философ, но ние, донякъде не бихме могли да се съгласим с това от една хипотетично-възникваема и солидна прагматистка позиция. Разясненията и информацията за работещите стратегии на моментната правна система у нас по книгоразпространението и съпоставката/уравновиловка с други, отворени домейни, "седемстотинте" години от смъртта и други такива разни определимо са качествени, но работата по proectoria.org  предстои, а екипът неизбежно ще се разшири, само дето не можахме да доживеем нейния и неговия край. Както би могло да се разбира, Bibliographia притежава повече образ на проектокаталог. Целта и ползата от лицензите и дейността около тях се разбира от само себе си и може да се коментира дълго, може да се развие цяла доктрна, както и школа "Философия на Лицензното Право", която да не се занимава само с книги и програми, но и със суверени, стига да "остане в появяване" трайно инфраструктурирана интенция за такава дейност. (Не би могла да съществува причина някой да не се заеме с печатане/сканиране на текстове с "всички права запазени" или "някои права запазени" на наскоро умрели, не съвсем умрели или съвсем живи автори - така кризата с националната образователна стратегия поне за малко ще поспре да вика "Помощ, помощ!" и безценни книги свободно биха попаднали на мястото си)

Ю. Форумът Проектория е "жива" книга, която никога не е "тук", неопределяема "екс-центрична многоцентровост", факт който изглежда се присмива твърде добре на ЗАПСП, както и на други "институционални рожби". Но нека не забравяме, че терминът "форум" означава "нещо, което е добило критичната достатъчна обектност, та да се превърне в "институционална почва". Независимо от това припомняне, ФП не е антипод на на общото понятие "форум", но не е елемент на самото него, повече напомня на Операционна Система, но и това не е.

Ь. Наблюдава се появяването на projеctoria.com на млад екип от Аризона. Това новозараждащо се ядро - реминисценцията на името "Projectoria" с името "Projectoria" e свръхозадачаваща, особено по отношение на релацията "org" - "com". Бъдещи въпроси навярно биха се породили от това...

Вметка към точка Я:

Негативната тенденция започна. Ето какво четем в slovo.bg - "Произведенията на българския класик Елин Пелин временно са свалени от сървъра, след като авторските права бяха откупени от издателство "Труд" изключително за сайта им с платен достъп "Знам.бг".
Съжаляваме за причиненото неудобство, но обстоятелствата не зависят от нас.
Явно алчността и желанието за бърза печалба за някои "българи" са по-важни от българската култура и образование".

В един от разказите си Е. Пелин призовава през нощта някой да подпали плевника на селския кмет. Скоро някой ще подпали плевника на издателство "Труд" - законът в родината се е конституирал така открай време. Докато навремето хора като братя Георгиеви даряваха всичко що имаха за културата и образованието, сега други изцеждат всяка възможна стотинчица от тях.