Revisiting my blog post on True Detective, Flat Circles Seen From A Round Eye, I continue where I left off, quoting Rust Cole that ‘Time is a flat circle’, where he was pointing at science to understand reality, the mind and the human condition. If we like Derrida are “assuming that Nature refuses the leap, one can understand why Scripture will never be Nature. It proceeds by leaps alone. Which makes it perilous. Death strolls between letters. To write, what is called writing, assumes an access to the mind through having the courage to lose one’s life, to die away from nature.” But this is not what Rust Cole did at the end of the show, the writer Nic Pizzolatto claims in different interviews. He finds the light inside his own mind, in a coma, discovering that a optimistic world view is just as logical as pessimistic one, like with light and darkness.
But with Derrida again, one has this considering about writing as lapses, as scripture different from Nature, i.e. nervous systems, biological minds. Writing is separation. “‘The name must germinate, otherwise it is false,’ says André Breton. Signifying absence or separation, the letter lives as aphorism.” “Just what separation was it?” Debord asks. “How quickly we have lived! It is to this point in our haphazard story that we now return.”