Posted by: Sk | February 21, 2009

Chapter 21: Cherries on the tablecloth

I was asked to the office today and was put in front of these papers. They were not so well written, I mean, it was handwritten and on the back there were a lot of arabic letters. There we are. The proofs and the evidences. “I don’t write arabic.” I said. “You got them from Halil?” “Yes,” she said. “I gave them to him because he had no paper. He said he wanted to write some letters to give to a friend, he wanted to have written inside of jail, to keep the mood. Got somewhat jealous because I had told him I was writing stories upstairs.” “And this?” She asked. “The greek? I wrote it. It’s some puzzle I have made up for myself. I thought it useless and gave the papers to Halil. Do you want to know what it means?” “No. It’s enough.” “Are these names?” And she pointed at “Ref: Nassos/ Xristos dose stin Alkistis.” “Yes, ” I answered, “in Greece. In Efkarpia – Serres – I was living there for ten years or more.”

She sat back. As if gathering her thoughts. “And this?” And she shew me a text of those I write at night saying “Can you send these letters for me?” Ah. Mistake. My flash. Such a negligency. “I tend to write stories that link somehow to reality without them being necessarily true. Somewhat taking elements of happenings during the day and put them into other contexts. You may not believe me, but you know that there has never been a falafel demonstration. It’s just some imagination on things that are happening. If this is not true, the other isn’t true, either.” And I waited for a while. “Halil has gone?” I asked after a while, as if such a false accusation would be some excuse to ask at least some question. “Yes,” she said. “Such a pity,” I continued, “I don’t even have his address.” And then, “Well, it doesn’t matter.” I stood up, not expecting any other question. And coldly: “I’ll see you in three days.” “Yes, of course.” I said before leaving.




I must say, Sask, I hope you’re not going to read my inspirations again. It’s not only that you put my plans upside down, it’s that it has wicked implications I have to consider and which are much more bothering than changing plans. See what I mean. I mean, not that I’d hide away anything. I think it’s fair you do what you have to do, it’s the same I’d do myself. In my story I may do as if I thought you don’t read texts from 5-7 but I know you can confiscate my flash. So. Will you not take this possibility into consideration were it in some little forgotten cave of your unconscious? It’s true, I didn’t think of the possibility you may get into the flash with a spy program. Not that I’d say it’s careless, I didn’t give importance to it. To say. I need to think for a while that I’m all alone with myself, because otherwise I have the feeling I can’t breathe. Of course you can get into yourself and think all sorts of things, but one) you can’t be there doing nothing all day two) at least keep some memory of this exciting journey, somewhere. And to give back impressions you transform into situations in order to mark the characteristics of the impression, does not imply it’s true. It’s just a way of doing.

See what I have to consider now. If it is true that I keep distances to myself even writing. You will not, because you think that I’m giving back some obscure part of myself, the hidden one, as I write carefully at moments I think you won’t read it. Not all secrets are dirty, and privacy isn’t. Such a distorted image you will have of myself, now. I look so innocent and almost human. Not that I’m not, I confess, up to a certain extent, but that’s not all I’m.

Were it to go through it again, you’d remark that I’m building up what I call a seduction strategy. I’d be shot in Korea for the sheer attempt, but it would really long to explain even in korean what I understand under seduction. I have to live here, for a while, for a long while, perhaps for a very long while. It’s of my interest to know who you are, but not too much. If I discovered things that may have implications for me – and I’m sure I could find them – I wouldn’t sleep very well at night. I have to carefully build up some image of yours that is who you want to look like, perhaps, in order to deal with you inside of patterns that may not cause some unwanted reaction. This implies even to distort reality, to push it into different structures that would be those resulting of the fact of having a ‘you’ that is not exactly the ‘you’ I’d manage to understand in different structures.

It’s helpful. Don’t say. I think ‘you’ and say ‘I’m going to use her to get out of here’, which probably means you’re thinking ‘I have to find the means to close her in forever’.  The first phrase says the second with some kind of veil: If I think the second, I’ll get afraid. If I think the first, I keep hopes while I must be looking by which means you’ll be wanting to close me in, forever, on top.

What you write is always suspended to some interpretation, interpretation which I wouldn’t fix myself excessively, either. I mean, it’s true it must make you furious that someone feels like Arsene Lupin inside of YOUR prison, but on the other hand, if I don’t feel like Arsene Lupin, I will get very depressed, and sometimes you make up reasons, you push imagination to the borders of reality in order to convince yourself of facts and thus live happily for a little longer. This is why I didn’t want you to read them. I have to think of surviving the best way possible, and this, to a certain extent, implies yours not getting angry – I hide thus away a certain number of things.

Now see what may happen. It’s almost two months I’m here. If I’m not wrong, and I may, but as said, I do never excessively fix things, you are the kind of studying the strategy of the adversary in order to get the weak point out of it. If you read things as written, you may certainly get curious about a strategy consisting in seducing someone. You sit down and say: “how may someone be trying to seduce me?” And you see, words don’t mean the same, you understand this word in a different way, it’s not an intellectual game, it’s given some erotical undertones, which to be honest, I don’t use, normally. And what happens. Necessarily, absolutely necessarily you fall in love … with yourself. Am I not building up a passive image of yourself? A same but taking into consideration my obvious inferior position? How tempting. You’re narcissistic, Sask, it’s an evidence. You’re all narcissistic, and you should never forget that. You see the trouble you put me into. Either you get furious, which I would get in such situation, either you’re going to push situations into directions that are none of my convenience. Which I may do, to, in your situation. But your situation is privileged, from my point of view, and what may seem profitable for you, isn’t at all for me. What for? To get a hamburguer? A falafel? An hour more to sit in front of tv? Such a privilege, I rather would live without. On top of that, the guards would get angry, but that would be parts of the strategy, too. Finally they’d make so much pressure that they’d cut all your romantic moods at once. And then you’d get furious anyhow.

I don’t trust you, Sask. You wouldn’t loose anything and to get into the mud builds up defenses that are perhaps already there and you hadn’t been aware of. And you like testing how powerful you are. It’s narcissistic again. I don’t win anything.

It’s true that you may want other people running for you through repressed erotical tension. It’s a strategy, like others. Don’t think I’m so stupid so as to think it may work, but it’s a pleasure spending time thinking it may. Repressed erotical tension is no love affair. It keeps itself inside of socially accepted patterns and danger is less if not none at all. Perhaps it would have worked in a week or two, if you hadn’t been through my papers. Now it’s too late. And this makes I have to reconsider my plans. If I really have them. Well. I’ll think you’re testing my affective resistence.

Texts left in the computer






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