An object is not exhausted by the web of relationships in which it appears, but keeps a part of itself hidden, unrelatable-to. If this were not so, there would be no object as such, but only the differential field of appearances itself. The objectivity of the object is secured by the non-appearance (which we might also like to think of as the indefinite deferral) of its occult part.

The occult part of an object is not inherently hidden; it does not have any inherent power of invisibility. Rather, it is occult because it is subtracted from the particular context in which the object is appearing. An object may appear in many contexts, and a different part may be occulted in each. This means, amongst other things, that an object may be a thing of many parts - a thing from which one might select many different parts to be the occult part.

The part of an object that is occulted in one context may overlap with the part that is occulted in another: a part is not an atom, but a portion. It follows that an object is intrinsically multiple, and is multiple in such a way that different portions may be discerned within its multiplicity. An object is a consistent multiple - consistent, because it can be partitioned and yet remain in sum the same. (A cake that weighed different amounts depending on how you cut it would be inconsistent).

There is no way to see an object from all sides at once, no total context in which all of its parts would be visible. Such a context would either be a consistent relational order of appearance, in which case the exhaustion of the object within the relationships in which it appeared would amount to the cancellation of the object itself, or it would be the inconsistent joining of at least two logically incompatible orders, in which case any part of the object that was occulted within one order but visible in the other would appear as an absurdity, a thing simultaneously true and untrue, existent and non-existent.

It is sometimes given to objects to form the juncture between two logically incompatible orders of appearance, so that the part of the object that is occulted in the one order becomes visible - but as an absurdity that can only be resolved by shifting to the context of the other order, in which case a part of the object as it first appeared is then occulted, and again is visible only as an absurdity. The object itself is not absurd, but its simultaneous appearance in two incompatible contexts gives rise to absurdities in each.

This is what happens in word-play, Witz, when by virtue of homonymy a signifier enlisted in two incompatible signifying chains is used to form an illegitimate connection between them: all of a sudden the letter becomes unusually visible, being illuminated from both sides at once, but instead of giving rise to a “total sense” in which the word and its significations wholly coincide, this visibility derails signification, throwing both signifying chains into disarray.

The objectivity of objects - their subtraction, in part, from the appearances to which they are donated - is thus fundamentally allied with the weirdness of the occult. The part of the object occulted in some context can become visible through the collision of this context with another with which it is incompatible, a collision which the object itself facilitates through its appearance in both contexts. When the occult becomes visible, it does so according to an alien logic, a logic within which the visible correspondingly becomes occult. That is the effect of the weird: not only do absurdities appear, but mundane appearances are simultaneously eclipsed.

We should consider the possibility that Cthulhu finds us as weird as we find him - or would do, if his mind ever succeeded in correlating its contents to the point of recognizing our existence.