I read on Facebook this passage from Deleuze “No one has insisted more than Proust on the following point: that the truth is produced, that it is produced by orders of machines which function within us, that it is extracted from our impressions, hewn out of our life, delivered in a work”  (Deleuze Proust and Signs). I like this passage, and I like Deleuze a lot.  But it makes me wonder what happens when this immanent-turn turns into doxa. What then? I don’t think I’ll ever forget the shudder I felt, in a closed and windowless conference hall at the last postmodernism and religion conference organized by Jack Caputo at SU, when Catherine Malabou declaimed with all the cold rigor and hard logic of a Jesuit, “There is nothing outside.” I’m holding out that she and Deleuze are in some deep way wrong. (To my vegetarian friends, pardon the picture but it wasn’t me who started drawing conclusions about about “brains” or “what we should do with them.”)