It is finally hitting me, this loneliness (it ain’t pretty no more).
This space is not meant to be a diary; no one actually wants to hear what anyone else is feeling (come on!) Instead, it is an experimental space for me to (selfishly) feel productive in between spurts of doing what I “should” be doing. This is me procrastinating. That being said, each post is likely connected to my current state of affairs, thoughts, feelings.
In this particular moment, I am becoming-lonely. I feel alone often, even (and sometimes especially), surrounded by others. But here, I am beginning to feel a different sense of loneliness, a flux in my perception of things that I am calling becoming-lonely.
We often think of becoming as something that some thing does or “goes through”. Deleuze, my main philosophical man of the moment, reverses this. We are not beings who become, but rather it is only through becoming that we exist. In this way, we never are, but are only always becoming. Becoming is not directed at some future goal; it does not have an end outside of itself. It is perpetual.
Here, I will never be lonely, I will only become-lonely. This loneliness is, therefore, not pretty. This loneliness ain’t pretty no more. It is not the romanticized vision I had of living alone on an island, writing philosophy and smoking cigarettes (I don’t even smoke). That romantic loneliness consists of a series of actions directed at some pre-ordained image, one that is fixed in memory and cliche. This loneliness, this becoming-lonely, is not constituted by some static romantic image, but is instead constituted by a complex flow of differences. This loneliness is open, ambiguous, unknown, and uncomfortable.
It may not be pretty, but it is actual, that it is to say “something is happening”. At the same time, though, this actuality that we perceive, in this case this loneliness, is only the composite of virtual tendencies; the actual requires a virtual synthesis of time. There is this loneliness, but also that one and that one and this one here and that one over there. There is always more than the actual world; there are always more durations, more flows of pure difference, more time, more lonelinesses.
Becoming-lonely exposes some of this difference. It reveals the potential worlds one might see. And, it may be part of a bigger machinic assemblage, one I am interested in unfolding: becoming-imperceptible. (See my first post?) We become imperceptible, that is to say no longer disengaged from life and these pure flows of difference, by becoming with life. We immerse ourselves in the flow of life’s perception. Instead of seeing ourselves as “human”, “woman”, “writer”, or whatever, we recognize ourselves as nothing more than a flow of images. Of becomings.
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