Bullshit – and here we go again – the only thing self-evident is that we want art and experience and we want to avoid inexperience and chance. We want to wear underpants, not just let go at random times. No Subject, European or in Absentia, Giant or Elephant, vanishes through Houdini’s magic tricks. Aut viam inveniam aut faciam: this is what I, Hannibal, crossing the Alps with elephants have demonstrated: Either I find a way or I build one.
Thus, to the center of Scholastic Park I retreat, leaving Badiou and Zizek to hold Aristotle captive once again with the help of Hannibal’s elephants. The renaissance, the systematic and the heroic constitute the European Subject via endless Hegelian weight lifting until the spectre of Europe becomes a mere surplus value.
Hasta la Vista, Baby, don’t shit in your pants, Houdini was just an American illusionist.
I can’t handle the truth, yet.
But I will defend the undercover brother, if he wears an apron.
In New York on 71 West 23rd Street, I enter the Masonic building in a hurry. My subway train was delayed so I sat in the tunnel between Manhattan and Brooklyn. I remember being made a Master Mason: I got symbolically murdered and then resurrected with a lion’s grip. Little did I know that America will eventually murder me like Wilhelm Reich.
Now, inside the Masonic building, I felt relieved and was welcomed by the Worshipful Master. I shook his hand. “Do you know that this is still Houdini’s lodge”, he smiled as if I knew. So, I payed my dues and joined St. Cecile Lodge #568.
The illusionist makes things appear out of nowhere and vanishes them into thin air, which is the proverbial ether, the source and subject of Aristotle’s metaphysics. This is part of a stage craft that involves labor, both visible and hidden. And for 30 years I was a part of that American labor machine, part of what the European Subject denounces as Pragmatism.