Posted by: Sk | February 13, 2009

Chapter 7 Classified

Victory. My strategy shows some kind of success, whose exact signification I’ll have to evaluate, yet. In any case, I had a visit today when I was going to spend my last few coins in some of those horrible machines where you can get something they call coffee (in English). It’s always empty there. In fact, there is no one around, just some chairs and tables in different vivid colors and a cat beyond the window, in some strange courtyard where there are some cars, too. Such a surprise. This time, she was very formal. She even introduced herself with a strange name whose pronunciation would take at least 7 days of exercise to learn it. And said, that, coincidentally and accidentally (???) her computer had had some problem the day before and she had thus been obliged to use the other one, which is to say, the one I use, and she had discovered a lot of texts there, where I had taken these texts from. She asked after, the liar. ‘From my cd,’ I answered.

It’s not enough with subliminal insinuations on top of all she’s not even able to understand that undoubtedly I’m the author of all those marvelous texts. I’ll have to put an end to my former counter attack the quickest possible, in order to start a new one. Now figure out. If I ask her, where she has her uniform from. Did you found it somewhere in the street? Was it given to you by a friend? And the brightly shining stars and medals? Did you pick them somewhere? Perhaps a lend? A collection? That’s insulting. Again. One affront after the other.

She left after. Must have felt my deepest rejection of such misbehavior.

Ah. She said she would have to ask some formal questions tomorrow – was about time. I will profit of the occasion in order to make some questions myself on my rights and obligations. I hope it’s not too early in the morning.

But that’s not all. Yesterday there was a movie in another room, quite comfortable I must say. It was all in Hebrew of course, but I had seen it before. I remembered. The title was something like ‘Crime in first degree’, but that must be a bad translation from Spanish. To say, a death penalty meriting crime. It’s about a marine in the USA who is accused of the murder of 9 people in some secret action in central America. He escapes, changes identity, gets married and it is about Christmas when he’s caught after 12 years. He convinces his wife of his innocence and she and another start his defense, as she is a lawyer. He looks innocent, he even passes some lying test, a polygraph, I think. Witnesses are dead accidentally and as they had been somewhat obliged to corroborate the official version, it’s easy to think they may have been killed by those who may be accusing him falsely. Finally, they discover he has not only killed the 9 people but also the witnesses.

And there we were again. My psychopath 4 years ago. I had the feeling at those times the guy had gone through some training in the army. Exactly that kind of thing. To create a double identity in order to be able to lie convincingly enough if caught by the enemy. You see, I thought, this man there in the movie is a benjaminite. The kind of individual who can’t synthesize soul. It’s not a psychopath because he has a notion of identity, but what is usually given by soul is for this man what is transmitted by outer reality, a nation is no notion, but the flag is a nation. And order is no concept, but a uniform is. You can’t make these people go through that kind of training. Without soul backing he’s going to loose his outer referent and submit to a derivate spirit, probably the psychopathetic tendencies of the trainer. “I can make a God out of you – if you want, you can do whatever you want and nobody will ever know.” That’s why he submits to the test voluntarily – he’s proud he can. But the pride is other’s pride, as this is not what is real nature would ever be proud of. Psychopath, that one. can you sell such theory without making a distinction of psychic types? Such an idiot. Drives a guy mad and stays … without punishment. That were the kind of things that made me furious. Exactly that kind of things.

At night I spent a lot of thought in ways of teaching, and remembered good old times with Tchin Li. But that was not the thing. This marine shows a horizontal reversion due to undue training. The psychic type I was studying at those time was showing a horizontal reversion, in time, in psychic disposition. A movements towards, not a submission to something. Probably there was something else mixed to the whole. At those times I thought of a drug, but wasn’t sure. And that one wasn’t a benjaminite, it was a homosexual repressed in lines female.

Hiding behind the type of a benjaminite (the soldier in the story) hiding behind the lieutenant general. I went farer, but it wasn’t very clear yet. At least it starts giving hints on what kind of device the guy may have been wanting to build up.

But that’s not the point, now. I have to care about myself. After so much theology and deepest contemplations I’ll have to situate myself in things of law. Not that I’d make up a body of law, it is that you understand what human justice should be good for in some way, which makes you remember regulations when others tend to forget them.

Ah. There was something else, too. Precisely. The classified. I remember there were many things Sask was shouting around at those times. There were many ‘classified’ escaping doors. What is classified, Sask? Now, don’t look at me as I were living behind the moon (which was perhaps true), I don’t know what it is. Really not. What can be classified for you? What can possibly be classified for you? Such a horrible problem. She said, I had in my possession whole lots of classified information, and I could be accused of spy work. Spy work? Without spy program? I haven’t broken any kind of security.

In my mind, classified were Tchin Li’s puzzles. Signs written almost on sand hiding away some wisdom of difficult approach. But you couldn’t get them. You could see them, if you wanted, but you couldn’t get into their meaning. They were coded in refracted lines and you could only approach them if your mental dispositions did allow you doing so. How is it ever possible that classified leave doors? I can’t understand you, honestly, Sask and frankly.

Of course yesterday I understood it, finally. Classified is what is not fitting into one’s image, here, the one of the army. An image is not only an idol, it is a referent for behavior and some ethics. To say, I thought, that I wouldn’t like selling an image of someone naked, for example. I do undress sometimes, although rarely, but that’s mine. It’s for sure that’d get angry if someone even said I’ve been running around naked. Naked is classified. The image you keep is the one that does not only assure a social environment but also a body of order. Strangely the movie shows it very well. The very fact of making the careful distinction between what there is and the classified does allow the catching of the psychopath, before the liberal social tendencies do almost make everything jump into the airs.

That is what I’m trying to clear up now. Some concepts have shifted in their meaning as far as the Chinese classified from then to the army classified from yesterday’s movie. Referential are concepts of justice and law inside of some environment. And this one, I think is also light kilometers away from a common one. So. Let us put some texts together, like beautiful dead butterflies of some collection that may point at the depth of some apprehension.

texts left in the computer


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