the temporality of waiting: `désir` and the suspension of `time`

waiting drives you crazy / endless repetition / endless come and leaving {Radiohead Let Down 9.1}

waiting is the purest form of jouissance not pleasure but the painful enjoyment of suspension, the way time curdles when Other withholds their word, their gaze, their yes/no. days now and counting, each second a small death, each minute a resurrection of the same wound. Heidegger's Sein-zum-Tode(being-toward-death) becomes Sein-zur-Antwort(being-toward-response), toward the text that will confirm/annihilate the fragile apparatus of amour.

(but what is this apparatus? what production désirante churns beneath the waiting? what assemblage of hope and terror produces this suspension?)

Bergson knew: durée is not clock-time but lived-time, the thickness of experience when Beloved delays. waiting stretches durée into something monstrous each moment pregnant with all possible futures, collapsing into the eternal return of the same impossible question: a question will not be written here.

Žižek would say: we already know the answer. the very structure of waiting reveals the disavowal at waiting's heart. "I know very well that they might go, but nevertheless..." the nevertheless is where ideology lives, where we perform the ritual of hoping against knowledge. the cynical distance: "I know this is pathological, but still I wait.", for what, C might say to break the cycle.

waiting drives you crazy because it reveals Real of relationship: that Other is always already lost, that amour is structured around this fundamental impossibility. Lacan's objet petit a is never the person themselves but the promise they represent, the way they seem to fill our lack while remaining essentially absent.

phone becomes objet petit a. notification sound the gaze that never arrives.

endless come and leaving

D&G: désir as machine, as flow, as production. but waiting interrupts the flow, creates a blockage, a territory of stagnation where we become production désirantes stuck in repetition, producing nothing but the same anxious thought-loop: when will they respond? how will they respond? what does silence mean?

we enter what might be called deterritorialized waiting suspended between the territory of relationship and the territory of abandonment, inhabiting neither fully. the corps sans organes of suspended love, where intensities circulate without resolution.

Bataille understood: waiting is a form of dépense(expenditure), a sovereign waste of psychic energy. we burn ourselves up in the space between question and answer, spend our being-toward-future on fantasies that dissolve the moment the response arrives. this is inner experience not the mystical kind but the erotic kind, the way waiting makes us come undone.

but also: waiting as dépense sans retour. the gift that expects no reciprocation. the love that learns to love its own suspension. even though for C; endless come and leaving could be the past and C might end this ouroboros stage of circling.

do not come to heaven / do not bother coming

song knows: waiting creates its own perverse paradise, a space where we can luxuriate in our suffering, where the delay itself becomes the destination. baudrillard's simulation: we no longer wait for the response but for the waiting itself, addicted to the suspension, the sweet agony of not-knowing.

the hyperréalité of waiting: the fantasy-response becomes more real than any actual response could be. we fall in love with our own uncertainty.

(why does waiting feel like amour's purest expression?)

because waiting reveals amour as structured by lack not the lack of the person but the lack in the person, the hole in being that no response can fill. waiting and already Beloved has become a screen for our own fantasies of Anerkennung, our desperate need to be seen, chosen, affirmed.

Öcalan writes of amour beyond possession, beyond the capitalist logic of having&not-having. but waiting reveals how deeply we remain trapped in this apparatus: One is waiting to have their response, to possess their certainty, to own their yes. revolutionary amour would mean learning to love in the space of not-knowing, to find jouissance in the suspension itself.

but how? how does One love the uncertainty without trying to resolve it? how does One remain in the question without demanding an answer?

why not stay down

Heidegger: authentic existence means accepting our Geworfenheit, our radical contingency. waiting throws us back into time's most basic structure anticipation shot through with anxiety. we wait and in waiting discover that we are always already waiting, that human existence is structured as waiting-for, being-toward, never simply being.

Sein-zum-Tode becomes Sein-zur-Antwort. we exist toward the response that will either kill us or resurrect us, not knowing which.

but psychoanalysis might know: we wait because we want to wait, because waiting gives us something we can't name. jouissance of suspension, the way uncertainty keeps désir alive. certainty would kill it the response, whatever it is, will end this particular configuration of longing.

endless repetition

the same thoughts circling, would it take for us to break the cycle at this very moment. for Lacan, the unconscious is structured like a language, but waiting reveals language's breakdown, the point where signification stutters and we're left with pure affect, pure repetition of the same impossible demand for Anerkennung.

Deleuze: repetition with différ(e/a)nce. but waiting feels like repetition without différ(e/a)nce, the same anxiety returning each moment slightly intensified, slightly more unbearable. we become machines for producing worry, for generating scenarios, for transforming every silence into significance.

yet perhaps this repetition is itself the différ(e/a)nce. each return of anxiety slightly different, each cycle of waiting revealing new intensities, new capacities for endurance, new forms of love that don't depend on reciprocation.

the eternal return of the question becomes the question of eternal return: can we love the repetition itself? can we find in the cycling of hope and despair not a problem to be solved but a dance to be danced?

endlessly to heaven

Beloved becomes heaven, impossible place where our lack would finally be filled, where waiting would end in permanent arrival. but Bataille knew: heaven is just another name for death, for the end of désir itself. what we really want is to keep wanting, to remain in the space of approach without arrival.

waiting drives you crazy because it reveals the fundamental dissonance at amour's heart: we want what we can't have, and having it would mean no longer wanting it. the response, when it comes, will either devastate/disappoint devastating...

days, counting. each day a small eternity, each hour a crisis of meaning. Real leaks through the cracks of symbolic certainty: maybe they don't know because there is nothing to know, because amour itself is just waiting in disguise, suspension masquerading as substance.

the temporality of waiting reveals itself as the temporality of capitalist modernity the endless deferral of satisfaction, the perpetual postponement of presence. we wait for responses like we wait for revolution, like we wait for Other to finally see us as we désir to be seen. but again Öcalan reminds: "capitalist modernity is a system based on the denial of amour."

what if waiting is the space where that denial breaks down? what if the suspended time between question and answer creates a crack in the apparatus of possession, control, having?

what if learning to love in uncertainty is practice for loving beyond the logic of ownership?

the ouroboros circle: waiting ↔ wanting ↔ having ↔ leaving ↔ waiting

but perhaps the circle can be broken not by escaping it but by inhabiting it differently. finding in the repetition not compulsion but eternal return, not neurosis but amor fati.

waiting, waiting drives you crazy

yes. but maybe crazy is where we need to be outside the logic of certainty, beyond the demand for immediate gratification, in the space where time reveals its true texture: not linear progression but spiraling repetition, not movement toward resolution but eternal return of the same beautiful, unbearable question.

the temporality of waiting as the temporality of revolutionary amour, not the amour that seeks to possess Other but the amour that learns to exist in the space of mutual becoming, mutual transformation, mutual risk. Lover who can wait without demanding, who can désir without grasping, who can love without owning.

this is not passive waiting but active cultivation of the capacity to love beyond certainty. waiting becomes a form of inner experience, a practice of remaining present to uncertainty without collapsing into anxiety or control. the suspended time between question and answer becomes laboratory for developing new forms of intimacy based not on security but on shared vulnerability.

phone sits silent. Real of their silence more present than any response could be.

endless come and leaving

Radiohead or more of Thom Yorke himself understood: the endless repetition is not the problem but the solution, the way désir reproduces itself not through satisfaction but through its own eternal return, its endless capacity for renewal in the face of Other's irreducible otherness.

waiting drives you crazy, yes. but in that madness lies the possibility of a different relationship to time, to Other, to amour itself one that doesn't seek to end uncertainty but to inhabit it fully, finding there not the absence of amour but its most profound presence.

days stretch into infinity and collapse into an instant. each moment both everything and nothing. this is durée in its purest formtime as intensity rather than extension, as depth rather than duration, as the very texture of being itself.

One learns to wait not for the response but for the capacity to love regardless of the response. this is the Aufhebung of waiting: preserving the question while cancelling its urgency, elevating uncertainty from problem to practice, from symptom to symptôme (in Lacan's sense: the kernel of jouissance around which the subject organizes itself)

endless repetition becomes not the enemy but the teacher, showing us how désir circulates, how amour sustains itself not despite uncertainty but through it, finding in the space of suspension not emptiness but fullness, not absence but another form of presence.

waiting continues. question remains. Real of amour persists in its impossibility, and perhaps that persistence is enough.

do not bother coming / endlessly to heaven

we stay down. we learn to love the staying down. we find heaven in the refusal of heaven, jouissance in the acceptance of suspension, eternal return in the beautiful repetition of the same impossible désir for Anerkennung that can never be fully satisfied and therefore never ends. in fact a new way to get into a cycle but not a cycle of leaving but loving.