trimethylamine

dear friends,
we have published a computer science paper that might interest you:

Summary Statistics for Partitionings and Feature Allocations
http://arxiv.org/abs/1310.0509
http://arxiv.org/pdf/1310.0509v1

this paper came as a “trimethylamine” -so to say- to all of my zizek-induced studies since 2007. it somehow had to appear as an introduction of some new statistics to computer science.

***

Freud telling Irma dream:

… We also directly know where the infection comes from. Recently my friend Otto, when she was not feeling well, gave her an injection of a preparation of propyl, propylene … proprionic acid … trimethylamine (whose formula I see in heavy type before me) … one doesn’t give such injections so lightly … Probably, too, the syringe wasn’t clean.

***

the image is from Jacques Lacan’s Seminar 2: The Ego in Freud’s Theory and in the Technique of Psychoanalysis 1954-1955

trimethylamine

***

question of any dream is the question of dream-work, and it is always the general question of the mechanism of dream-work, and this mechanism consists of cumulative occurences, instead of binary or multiway cross-relations, be them expressed in matrices/tensors or sentences/articles

***

Lacan’s seminar 2, page 170:

In the dream of Irma’s injection, it is just when the world of the dreamer is plunged into the greatest imaginary chaos that discourse enters into play, discourse as such, independently of its meaning, since it is a senseless discourse.

It then seems that the subject decomposes and disappears. In this dream there’s the recognition of the fundamentally acephalic character of the subject, beyond a given point. This point is desigated by the N of the trimethylamine formula. That’s where the I of the subject is at that moment. And my suggestion to you that you see in that the dream’s last word wasn’t said without humour, nor without hesitation, since that is almost a Witz. Just when the hydra has lost it heads, a voice which is nothing more than the voice of no one causes the trimethylamine formula to emerge, as the last word on the matter, the word for everything. And this word means nothing except that it is a word.

That has almost a delirious air about it, and in fact it is. Let’s say that it would be if all by himself the subject, Freud all by himself, analysing his dream, tried to find in it, proceeding as an occultist might, the secret designation of the point where as a matter of fact the solution to the mystery of the subject and the word lies. But he isn’t all by himself. Once he communicates the secret of this Luciferian mystery to us, Freud is not confronted with this dream by himself. Just as the dream is addressed to the analyst in an analysis, Freud in his dream is already addressing himself to us.

He is aleady dreaming for the community of psychologists, of anthropologists. When he interprets this dream, it is us that he is addressing. And that is why seeing the word in the absurd final word of the dream isn’t to reduce it to a delirium, since Freud, by means of this dream, makes himself heard by us, and effectively puts us on the road towards his object, which is the understanding of the dream. It isn’t just for himself that he finds the Nemo or the alpha and omega of the acephalic subject, which reprsents his unconscious. On the contrary, by means of this dream it’s him who speaks, and who realises that he is telling us ­without having wanted to, without having recognised it at first, and only recognising it in his analysis of the dream, that is to say while speaking to us­ something which is both him and no longer him – I am he who wants to be forgiven for having dared to begin to cure these patients, who until now no one wanted to understand and whose cure was forbidden. I am he who wants not to be guilty of it, for to transgress any limit imposed up to now on human activity is always to be guilty. I want to not be (born) that. [Je veux n’être pas cela] Instead of me, there are all the others. Here I am only the representative of this vast, vague movement, the quest for truth, in which I efface myself. I am no longer anything. My ambition was greater than I. No doubt the syringe was dirty. And precisely to the extent that I desired it too much, that I partook in this action, that I wanted to be, myself, the creator, I am not the creator. The creator is someone greater than I. It is my unconscious, it is this voice which speaks in me, beyond me.

That is the meaning of this dream.

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