Counter

Ruth: Have a sip. Go on. Have a sip from my glass. Sit on my lap. Take a long cool sip. Put your head back and open your mouth.
(...)
Lenny: What are you doing, making me some kind of proposal?

Harold Pinter, "The Homecoming", 1965



On the same note, let us note, in an unknowing, unbeknownst not knowing dissonance - how could love be in tune, how could love be pious, to be philanthropic, love - as it should have been, in the echo of an audition, of an auditing of educational structures, of learning from, of structures of learning, and of structures of letters. Of transcripts of other islands, while one falls in love, not least through letters, awaiting the post-card, the bibliographical reference to-be. The hedonism of the unknown, unbeknownst, as an ethics as first philosophy? Or better, in this noting, to a 'T' or there about: of the ethics of hedonism. Does hedonism have ethics? Dear Architect (...). What am I omitting? What is it presented, to a 'T' or there about, evidently, as a promise? The testimony of the promise can not be but be re-called as an ommitance. Never evident, testifying, even in letters, the promise of a knowing, unbeknownst to this or that structure, a hedonistic devouring. An ethics of constant welcoming, of constant homecoming, an ethics of the Third, to a 'T', base. Not yet a coming, but a coming and a going "paralyzing possession", displacing comings and goings and allowing the displacement not only of the death that will do us apart, apart from all the make-up and the embalming, parting the hair, frankly, but also that resounding of the host in the promise, the flattery that is, the whole set, such a nice rack. Count 'er. Listen (again): to (+) to. 2+ 2? No, to, to a 'T'. Vacancies. Reception. Sign-posting of another kind, kindly allowed as learning, yearning. A loss. Of what? A Loos. Ah! Wait; stand at the bar. Of these, how many frames has your mother collected? Of bars, of counters. What face was she after, after all, in what phase do we face her? Opposite of the root, the root-vegetable. A faithful enunciation of the hedonistic ethics, of the ethics of hedonism, counter. Unconditional hedonism, hote, excuse my French, in ruins, in tatters, to a 'T', of a faith to what lies, lies there, open. As counter to the domestic, on the counter of the local. Stand up and be counted. On days like these, when belonging demands allegiance, note, an oath, to queen, and not least, to country. Or even if it's a token - not far from a hoop - wreath.

Jump!

Can the blind - as if - jump? The unforeseen ethics of the counter put into question the vision of division. Unconditionality shuts her eyes. How else to devour, being not Pound, writing after Touffic, yet writing "where one is", "wherever we are"? These fragments I have shored against my ruins. The Pleasure of the Ruins, a text nonetheless, encountered, with a displaced responsibility. Not it, but against all odds, to the document. Over the counter, the engagement counters the proposed encounter. In opposition to this or that then, face to face that is, what exchange takes place? What do you (not) see, to a 'T' or there about? The division of course remains, defining our encounter with the jump, counting the jump, not so much of a context t, but unforeseen, to what are you to jump (into)? Can't you see? A void, again, one avoids, lies there, open, chancing it. Counter to the heroic landscapes, the bar counter recounts the letters, their structures. Dear Architect (...) The sticky echo of the other, another one, suggest what another one can not attain. Namely, a home-coming. "Mind you, she's a lovely girl. A beautiful woman."

The ethics of hedonism then are essentially - as ethics are - urban. To engage counter to ethics as morality is to engage with the city, to hedonistically devour her not as imagery but in bits. Or to write otherwise: to responsibly engage with a city is to do it the ethics of hedonism; counter that is to the philanthropic and its face to face morality. Not to go or to come but to host. And not in the promise but as a promise. And from wherever, that is already from the arche, from where it stores itself as city, in its ruins, an not, counter to the city, over the counter, through a window encounter, in its depictions. Let's be clear about it. To a 'T'. "My dear X (...) Don't expect to be thanked by the way", the letters would have it. The promise of what is omitted once again. Or what is laid bare. Not least on the bar counter.