stop making sense

I walked past two police officers today casually leaning over a guardrail. One of the officers looked especially informal. I was struck with the thought of how easy it would be to yank the gun from his side. I might even say there was a sudden impulse to do it, if only because it seemed so easily done. These strange thoughts that I have.

I bought Zizek's Ticklish Subject today. It's his most 'serious' rebuke of poststructualism, deconstruction, etc. "A spectre is haunting Western academia," Zizek writes, "the spectre of the Cartesian subject". Thus, by confronting pretty much every discipline that roots for the de-centering of the subject, or bases itself in such, Zizek aims to reconstitute a nuanced kind of Cartesian subjectivity, vis-a-vis Badiou, Lacan, etc.

I continue to buy scholarly books by the bundle, in first-rate bourgeois yuppie fashion. I reflect on this with strange ambiguity, yet I am content with my ever-expanding personal library. My bookshelf has especially filled out this year. It is colourful, bold, and proud. I find myself often gravitating to its mystery, for reference or examination purposes.