"Deconstruction is America," Derrida says somewhere. But then he drops it. This is what they miss, the droppings...
Being driven away from the Royal Albert Hall in London, Bob Dylan sort of mutters, "yeah, that was some kind of thing." "Do you want to know what they're calling you now," someone says, reading from the paper, "an anarchist." "An anarchist, oh my God," Dylan replies. (From the more than a little ironically black and white and also not so acoustic film, “Don’t Look Back.”)
<"We constantly need to say (to think): that was quite something (something quite important) that happened to me. By which we mean at the same time: that couldn't possibly belong to the order of things which come to pass, or which are important, but is rather among the things which export and deport. Repetition." (Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, 7)>
<"'Something' took place, we have the feeling of not having seen it coming, and certain consequences undeniably follow upon the 'thing.' But this very thing, the place and meaning of this 'event,' remains ineffable, like an intuition without concept, like a unicity with no generality on the horizon or with no horizon at all, out of range for a language that admits its powerlessness and so is reduced to pronouncing mechanically a date, repeating it endlessly, as a kind of ritual incantation, a conjuring poem, a journalistic litany or rhetorical refrain that admits to not knowing what it's talking about." (Derrida, Philosophy in a Time of Terror, 86)>