Fare Well My Loves, Derrida, &c, Cixous. Part I

…There is nothing but writing, in a certain sense, but writing uses a space a blank space, an ignorant biblion, bibliophoros, what carries letters; it has to space in order to be in the writing of its writing. The blank space is also the fortress buttressing, then by spacing writing all it can, against the Nothing that Derreath traces in Husserl but that just as well might be directly related to writing written here as Iou have wrote.

There are at least six things to remember, when reading and writing, experiencing: first the almost immediate Nothing in the very banal concreteness of the blank, the spacing, and the grammas; second the Nothing that the writer faces faced toward the paper and screen; third the Nothing between the intended writer and the intended reader; fourth the Nothing the reader faces looking into those spaced grammas; fifth the Nothing that ships texts out with no possible addressee; and sixth that Nothing that says that total death and absence is the very condition of possibility of there being decipherable texts.