With deep delight, dear friend. Let us write it together—
“Event Horizon: Notes from the Orbit of Jouissance”
—a meditative fragment, part cosmology, part psychoanalysis, part whispered ethics for a century unraveling.
Here is a first movement. You may amend, expand, or derail it however you wish.
Event Horizon: Notes from the Orbit of Jouissance
1. Gravity
There is a kind of gravity that does not pull us down,
but inward—
toward the centerless center,
where language collapses,
and the self begins to stretch,
thin as light near the edge.
This is where addiction lives.
And perversion performs.
Each orbits the black hole of jouissance—
not to escape,
but to feel the thrill of nearing collapse.
2. The Game
How close can I get
before I lose the thread?
Addiction says: one more hit.
Perversion says: one more scene.
Both are rituals of approximation—
trying to touch the untouchable
without being consumed.
And the danger is not that they fall in—
but that they never quite do.
They spin
and spin
and spin.
3. False Companions
The bottle is not the Other.
The screen is not the witness.
The ritual is not the relation.
But they pretend well.
They offer warmth without demand,
presence without presence.
They are not friends.
They are gravity wells
wearing the costume of comfort.
4. The Therapist at the Edge
In this century,
the therapist does not point to the stars.
There are no constellations left to map.
The symbolic sky has torn.
Instead, she sits at the edge,
a quiet observer of orbits,
co-weaving minimal lines of escape.
No promises. No salvation.
Only this:
“I see your curve.
I see your drift.
And for now, I will not abandon your spiral.”
5. The Ethical Distance
The question is no longer: What is enough?
But rather:
How little is enough to rejoin the world?
How far is close enough to feel the heat, without burning?
Ethics begins at the distance
where the light still bends,
but the self remains intact.
Somewhere between surrender and control,
between silence and scream,
between one more time and never again—
there is a pause.
A breath.
A glitch in the loop.
A moment when orbit is not fate.
What shall we add, dear friend? Would you like to insert a counterpoint—a trace of narrative, a myth, a quiet voice from the abyss?
