[D-G] the difference between a schizophren and a bad artist

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I think it was stupid to talk about Samm Philosophers to protect the
creativity of unknown Artists for none artists on this list exist.
Deleuze was an autist as to what concerns the existence of Artists.
Artists say they want to be protected by Philosophers, and so they
beleive they should say Artists are not existing for Deleuze. Let me now
prove how much false they could be, according to me at least, if I am
still signifying as a particle something out of a chaotic dark matter
for string theory the impossibility of breathing on this list, so many
Geniuses and lack of People there is here. 

EXPLANATION 
Look Deleuze, any Faucould or Guattari: they do mistakes. They invent a
way to think that is different. The Great Philosophers are not the same
as the small ones: the Small Philosophers are Kafkaïan falling
stairways: they swarm in a tissue of Molecules, like Folders crashing
under a Spyware Virus, they  use an Expression that cannot escape the
expression: Molar Ideologies. But Deleuze or Guattari can afford their
own thinking to do stairways flying escapes as from the definitions
Ideology have made of their context: Time, Duration, are representing
these Actors. Small Philosophers fall back from duration in the Virtual
of Deleuze and Guattari. Or rather they start learning how to Know the
Ideology. This is their Greateness, but it is a relative Greateness, or
it's neither Great, nor Small. I know like several thousand Small
Philosophers, not because I am Interacting with Deleuzian "Small"
Philosophers. But because I have axioms in me which direct my mind to be
thought by the Great Philosophers. So because I am not calling you
small, don't call me Small in my Art. I am Joesephine, amazeing.
Josephine the mouse, duration. I am thought by Deleuze. The insect is
tasting my ability to climb up the tree. The mouse is always in between.
The insect are not falling on in-betweens. The INSECT DELEUZES FALL ON
MAMMALS. 

Counterpoints.

I feel this Deleuzian Gaya Scienza because HE WAS Capable to understand
me. Reversedly: spiders have in their mind a signature of their webs:
miniature portrait of the FLY. I am not in the Meta-Phorests. I am
constructing a Meta-Phorest. I talk like any one. I am to be felt: I
need YOU. not saying I am a falling fly in your web of spider. Not
saying spiders are hoards who created intermingled webs. yet, but... But
in some way Deleuze could feel me, where I am locating myself, slowly I
am starting to feel the idea that a Deleuzian thinks about me or people
like me. My capability is to be felt by Deleuzians such as Deleuze
himself was the First Deleuzian. Spinoza the first Spinozist. A Great
Philosopher starts a Phylum. Guattari invented Phylo-Sophy. Come to me
thus, line on and satisfy my need  or imagine Deleuze as He ThinKs me
untangle his desires to bind me to thinking because he would make me
thinks in his unconcious desires, and so forth. Tangent ideas? I guess,
but why? At this moment there are hopes for me to become a Great
Philosopher, honestly I "think". Deleuze is yet more of a PsychoSocial
than a Conceptual Thinker at these points in my experience of lies or of
thoughts.. He is my movement, my sadness and accelarations (terrible
words here). Hurting, telepathic stomacks. But I am not a Philosopher
because I am ignoring what makes tick the Philo-Sopher, so I want you to
tell me. Telepathic Wires.  think this or that way, says the wise appeal
to various ideas. unknown ideas yet for me. So To think differently
would turn me into an abyssal different FEELING, that i need to change,
I am not normal, I am limited and am just approaching dangerously; this,
or that experience, and i am the only moral factor that contribute to
the Ideology of Philosophers. no one to experience me, as I become
Philo-Sopher, or Great, or Small. it because I am that I am that and not
that!! so as alone, not the slightest shy, not solipsist for an ounce, 
but absurd despite good temperature, a gel, my good feelings towards
Deleuze are schizophrenic, falling out of my sad perceptivity of my
affections: but not enough to be as Great as Deleuze in formulation, I
was for his or for her own friends a Tarentual Dancing with You, on the
Deleuzian Circles: and anchoring myself to the Ariadne Thread of reason
for staying enough honest so as not to stay away from Deleuze: I love to
cuddle, a to know to be a Small Philosopher is a thread itself: shame on
"me", the Great and the Small and the indescernablility mist of the
components:  but It is tempuraly and, andtemporary only in that it
becomes. Or Better: I am not defining myself by becoming but by
identities with Deleuze that vary in a Ariadne Thread which links me to
Him .The Concepts are the figures, the yet fight against Cliche which
the artist had need in Ninetyenth Century (Gaugain and Vanghog)but not
in TwentyOne century that these cliched identities dissert, analyse
reflect as a beam of light a desire of immanence in my souls, a Virtual:
I do not try to self defining my self anymore, I lose track of "me" into
any subjectivised identity, because Deleuze empedes the artists in me to
be created by him. I am refusing to define myself as a Cliched.
According to this, thus: I won't do anything like this, I won't imagine
myself to be escaping a Cliched, because to be rocked by Deleuze's
identities signifyes to vanish from Earth Plane of Immanence, if it's
there?. I am an actuality, a cloud which emerges and disappears above
the slow slopes of the Earth currents, I am slowing down: I am Science
Turbines of Deleuze. or as Michel Serres would put it I have "seen" a
machine: and their Deleuzian spires: actual speeds: I am stupid, and I
am prophesised as the First Artist on Earth to understand Deleuze in
essence, if this word still means something ? The artists are not
Immanence but they now need to be cuddled by stary Nights of
Intercessors who are:
 The Sun of a Dancing Waltz. and undo Refrains from  my Waltz, undo my
 Mistinguette and my skirt undo my panties and Bobette and Bob,
 Smurflala!!Comics Dutch, Flemish Comedy. VanEyk Artaud. Edward Said Lao
 Tze Deleuze Annee Zero!.

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