
The Sex Appeal of the Inorganic
6
looking for man? Rather, it’s a question of nding the thing. Maybe the thing
is a man who does not feel? Or who feels a little?
If I say that the thing is a man that does not feel, I place man once again
at the centre of the universe and I make him the measure of the world. In
this anthropologization of inert beings, a deep transformation of the human
occurs that makes him completely alien and unrecognizable. Is it enough,
then, that the paper on which I write perceives the movement of the pen on
the page in order to seem already human? Is it enough that the pen feels the
pressure of my ngers in order to erase all dierences between it and myself?
How is it possible that the great and innite life-world has been erased to
such an extent? How is it possible that all my humanity is only concentrated
in the feeling of a pen that presses on me or of a hand that holds me tight?
How is it possible that nothing else matters and has value outside of this
contact where all experience and knowledge, all that one has loved, suered,
sought and known, is gathered and concentrated? How is it possible that the
entire order and balance of life rotates around a pressing or a squeezing? Is
it possible that everything is already given in this feeling as pen and paper?
What promises and oaths, tears and embraces, may not add to the feeling of
a thing that feels?
In fact, this is the great transformation that we are witnessing and of
which we are the protagonists, that is, no longer to feel like God, or like
an animal, but as a sentient thing for whom the least perceivable is the
maximum perceivable or, better, in the least perceivable there is the
maximum perceivable. In such drastically sensitive reductionism, we
capture not the being in itself of the thing, its essence, or what it would be
without the presence of man, rather, a human feeling reduced to its lowest
terms. However, this minimum feeling does not seem to lose anything. In
the slightest contact there is implicit all the superhuman and the infrahuman
of which we are capable, all the hopes and abjections, all the intellectual and
practical world. It is ready to spurt out from that point in which it is forced,
limited, compressed and ready to unfold in a great wealth of manifestations,
developing an operational eectiveness that extends to any eld of activity.
erefore, when I say that man is a thing that feels, at rst I extinguish, blunt
and close o the feeling, or, at least, I take away its liveliness, its brio, its
agrancy, but secondly I promote its extreme sharpness, I make it similar to
a point, to a needle, to a sword.