Posted by: Sk | February 18, 2009

1 Love stories and esthetics

Sometimes somewhere we get lost. We finish up in a reality that has little to do with common reality and the deeper reasons for that can not be only explained by the refusal to share general destinies. Although it has something to do with it.

It is true that I was one of the happiest people in the world in Greece after having discovered many extremely agreeable worlds which sometimes resumed themselves to be invited by a Turk to bread and a piece of cheese. As circumstances had closed all paths for a social realization I adapted myself to the very ‘freiherrische’ politics and social life of northern Greece. Northern Greece is actually ruled since thousands of years by small ‘caciques’ or ‘ruling entities’ in a very diffuse hierarchic order that passes power over to the one who may stand the difficult moment so that it is always difficult to discern who actually takes decisions. My somewhat gipsy nature adapted itself very well to the circumstances and used of the general strategy in order to mass whole tons of power discreetly hidden away behind apparent personalities of great diversity.With great happiness I solved thus thousands of little questions while building up a reality whose foundations and roots laid in Herodotus, Old testament, Bizanze’s interpretation of history and many fairy tales told by the environments. Corresponding to deepest identity Greek structures, veiled by strategies taken from the resistance to the ottoman empire, a heavy and dense psychic mass developed itself where the need of talking disappeared slowly as it seemed as if everyone knew already what it was about and slight signs and deliberate misunderstandings enough in order to warrant peace, order and financial interactions.It is not that I was not aware of the fact that some other world was ruled by other laws and intentions. It is that around 1999 I loose immediate awareness of the ‘other’ world that disappears in the mists of mythology and intentional misunderstanding.About 2002 I start though understanding that my deliberate negligence of a world that had refused my wisdoms is starting to create a cut between two different understandings and that it is possible that consequence be irreversible as it seems, to my greatest astonishment, that nobody else seems to hold the keys of the cause of the problem.I thus oblige myself to study back the ‘civilized’ world. Something though has happened. The extreme high pressure coming from the channeling of different currents (were they political, intellectual, etc.) seems to break something in the orders of reason, without it being possible to determine exactly what.From that point of view and without other possible considerations I leave Greece with the ‘implicit mission’ to translate our marvelous system into coordinates of understanding and try this way to lower outer pressure through the winning of parts of populations ruling their existence in understanding and not in psychic masses. Greek do always ‘mission’ some one as expression of a general national will, the same way Michail Strogoff is ‘missioned’ in Russia to transfer information to upper structures of society while the tartars are ravaging Russia.I accept the impossible offer in a cloud of complete misunderstanding coming from completely wrong interpretations regarding different events that though are basically attacking our marvelous system. On top, my understanding is hit by some unknown illness which I can’t determine at all.I thus start the most incongruous slitter through existence anyone may imagine. I transfer the psychic world into a computer language whose logic I master very well after thousands and thousands of hours playing pinball with the computer ( My mind is registering and mastering the difference between the ‘natural’ movement and the ‘electronic’ movement, and the understanding of that allows immediate understanding of the computer language and its general logic after a while.I just allow things to happen, taking care not to conclude too quickly anything as I know that the ability of synthesis is struck by some strange deviation. I thus jump from Greece to Israel, than to Spain, France, Spain again, Germany, Greece, Spain and finally Ecuador encountering the strangest adventures I run into as a consequence of the effort of translating the psychic movements into outer realities. Appear the shadows of Salif and other mafia related obscure characters that are undermining universal order personalized in types who seem to carry the same psychic structure.I still don’t dare drawing conclusions. I remark by the way that the recurrence of appearance of psychic structures seems to allow thinking that there were more things happening than I wanted to get aware of. Masking my researches behind novels and spy stories I launch a whole attack aiming at clarifying what was actually happening, or, how things had been actually understood. I thus go on ordering reality as it comes, without plans nor concrete proposals, until I clear up what has caused that damage to my devoted principle of identity in my mind, and getting back to it, be able to draw conclusions on whatever has happened during the last 4 years.My very platonic mind understands the social as well as the psychic organization in three levels: upper level (understanding or upper classes) middle level (feeling or middle class) lower levels (impulses or lower classes). Reason is the organization of reality through the ordering of impulses in structures of understanding that do not deviate from a fundamental feeling warranting the common belonging. On this fundamental concept are built whole lots of others deriving economy, knowledge, love and even spy work.This fundamental concept is though hit by something that alters seriously the perception of reality and has as fundamental effect actually one: I’m incapable of reacting immediately to aggressions although I know them coming logically with almost months of advance, and my only defense is a general logic that gives back a blow from an environment that can’t be directly related to me.Running into the Fressange hypothesis almost accidentally (I conclude that it is the unconscious effect resulting from in France living Cesar linked to fashion encounter that wakes up some memories or seems to remind me of something) I’m obliged to conclude a certain number of things. I observe that my attention ‘falls in love’ with things, were it a Panama Hat, a cascade in a hotel, a leave, lines that I associate in my mind to thoughts and deep wisdoms immediately. That’s it, immediately. I’ve broken middle lines.I understand by broken middle the incapacity of understanding one self inside of a given context, which makes as move as a whole considering established interrelationships. A thing is made by some one, and the some one is the vehicle of the knowledge that allows the appearance of the object in question. In my mind something is beautiful as it says something that is understandable in a certain context as conveying some kind of teaching of whatever kind. The person though who has produced the object is not analyzed in the context he has produced the object in, which means that my greatest enthusiasm concerning the possible interpretation concerning the object in question translated thus in loving projections said in web pages may fall on people who have strictly no social corresponding situation. For me: the legal status allowing to justify reason in middle lines as this should, to my understanding, lean on a more fundamental concept said love or home.Why though does a leave materialize itself in a possible other who has nothing to do with reality, probably, and allows the thought there could be another self for the other, wisely integrated in homes and loves and reason? Awareness becomes sharpest when landing into the Panama hats as if this peculiar straw was reminding me of something else constantly, as much as aurum’s silver 9.75. What I don’t care about excessively before, the corresponding legal situation, becomes all of a sudden an obsession, as much as to consider the non appropriate expression of a legal situation or corresponding marketing strategy into image as a personal failure. (The Galliano fall.)In fact, I seem to be destroying myself my own philosophy as I seem to be incapable of assuming the reality of love or a home for myself so that the translation of the feeling into image as affirmative sentence does make unreality of the basis of reason even deeper and more dangerous. Say: It’s there and you’ll never get it because it is there and can’t be here.I thus try to determine the principle of my identity in the Fressange hypothesis and arrive to the following conclusion: Hannah’s ghost appears in front of the Hotel de Ville in Paris as if resuming in a possible though imaginary relationship to an esthetical line as given in a perfume bottle the impossibility to get in nearer touch to reality.In fact I know that my way of thinking is based on an interrelative structure: I do never think the other as a spatial block but as a determination through the eyes of some one who loves him/her. Thus, while approaching some one or something I determine it first as female or male and than take the contrary position in order to crack his/her logic of love. As I do that even while buying coffee downstairs with all sorts of things, objects, structures and logics, I go on almost unconsciously with my common strategy while plunging unwillingly into Fressange’s esthetics. I conclude: this woman is conquered only by truth, without the appearance of truth. Answer: Rends toi. (Give in.) Turned into humor through: ”N’oublie pas le chapeau.”(Hat or hat like accent on some French vowels), ‘on the ‘e’?And there it is. Such subtle erotic determination deserves a whole mythological environment with a princess in a tower surrounded by dragons in the person of Galliano or Lagerfeld who do attack this subtlety by all sorts of basse classe instincts and pretensions. Missing is the Russian prince arriving to save the princess from suicide or other disasters and after having strolled around hooligan’s pretensions to such finesse, the Russian prince arrives finally yesterday in his fairy tale airs with Bogart touches.But what. This is almost an intellectual rape. Mind, I would get very angry if anyone dared inventing such a story around my existence. Exactly. But wasn’t it the truth? There we are. The truth has become a story necessarily in order to mask such obvious misbehavior. The whole takes its perfect image in the representation of someone who is driving full speed at the edge of void as if that were the natural, common and normal.But why? And what for? Am I just running into everything in order to get a definite answer to a question no one answers to without minding who it makes disappear on the path of clarification? In fact, if Fressange had not said to a Spanish journalist that whether glory nor riches had made her happy, I’d never had the question roaming in my unconscious trying to find out how then she’d have been or could be happy. In fact, perhaps the very statement, the recognition of an evidence that does not give in to the obligation of appearing happy against all reality, awakes some kind of sympathy that does determine a path of solution to a heavy battle opposing my injured pride to a whole nation. Now how the devil do you want me to appear in front of some one who may love me if your are destroying obsessively all possibility of appearing in a proper social light through gossip, destructing of image and refusal of evidences?There you are. The impossibility of realization through outer circumstances tending to destroy appearance as such of middle lines do have as a result not only a happy destruction of whatever seems to stay in the middle of my way but goes so far so as to push the possibility of realization for anyone else to the realms of absolute unreality causing heavy disturbances in general orders. Mind having the same destiny because three idiots pretend to absolute truths.This is a proper determination of myself. Hope Madame de la Fressange may excuse the misuse of her name in the attempt of clarifying underlying principles and take the proper commercial benefit out of it. After all, it’s not such a bad story. Where we find the Russian prince now, dear, you’ll ask.


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