Posted by: Sk | February 22, 2009

1 Step 1: A purpose

Here it is not accidental. I’m working at the typification of a logic, the aleatory logic. I’m using two instruments, WordPress and Google. What I usually do: the very appearance of something, its structuring, even the font that is used in this case, for example, do leave impressions on my mind. These impressions I convert into stories that have some general structural characteristic. They arise progressively, go from one to the other, form characters. After a while I have two characters ‘Mr Dashtag’ for Google and ‘Mrs Wingsurf’ for WordPress. Mrs Wingsurf is a woman because WordPress is a short protocol. Mr Dashtag is a man because he always knows everything without further specification. In my construction which aims at: “the use of aleatory logic to ones’ advantage without spending too much money” (reason, still unknown) the long protocole risks to fuse with the short one and I’m obliged to introduce a third factor, which I call ‘Ines de la Fressange’. This factor is a ‘possibility’ in some funny logic, that stands always puzzled whenever there is evidence ‘she’ has not well translated something. Inside of these patterns happens what I call ‘the breaking of aleatory logic’. I mean: you stay in front of the computer and ‘you’ are a Dashtag quarrelling with a Wingsurf in some ‘story’ (coordinates) that are hold together through the ‘factor’ called Ines de la Fressange. (This is and )


Stories linked to Ines de la Fressange at that moment:

On few ‘have-nothing-do-to-with-oneanother’ subjects

1. Concerning appearance in Google: it is never stable, but has to be fed. Reference arriving somewhere at a certain moment, will not be of interest a day or even hours later. The magnificient creativity of grandma is thus remarkable excatly for that: most of her references do get the page at first page, the other’s probably at second (for me at third, but I’m later). In order for a tag reference to be valid, it has to be repeatedly used, otherwise it gets submerged by new different references arriving to related subjects.

2. It is obvious that grandma is very american: all her ideas fall on american pages, even asking about … spanish food or parisian dishes!

3. Ms Wingsurf does ask, why the akismet protection is on, if I haven’t payed the extra. It’s easy, Ms Wingsurf, the silly computer confused my friend’s name Hikmet with Akismet. By the way, Hikmet means wisdom in Kurd language: must have been seducing enough! If you then say that Athina Onassis is a honorary member (and very honorable one) of an aleatory club, it may arrive to the conclusion that the ‘one in question’ may certainly don’t mind paying later. While sending an e-mail with the bill, the e-mail adress doesn’t recognize the receiver. They promised, the swiss, they’d do so if I don’t send a correct adress in two weeks. Would you give your personal adress to a mail-hosting service, ma dear? I didn’t.

3. I had several subjects in my mind, concerning long subjects I will have to talk about shortly, but have to get rid of them in order no lower pressure on my unconscious as they are roaming inside already for a few days.

a) the Hikmet Karabulut hypothesis: my researches did finally lead me to the evidence that I was perhaps accidentally hurting my friend more than I was helping. To be a kurd is not really a good reference in Turkey, his main market, and I had mentioned this in an almost unconscious way, without thinking of any consequence whatsoever, and appeared page 1 for a few days (now relegated to page two or three). After having spent quite a long time blaming myself for an obvious side step, I started to think about the possibilities of new markets. If he is a kurd or not, (he would never say the contrary, by the way, because he is quite proud of where he comes from), the fact of being a kurd in French or American market is always better than to be a turk (God knows why, but you have to do with what people think if you want to get anywhere). If now he is married to a turk (a fact), it makes appear the possibility of a deeper understanding of the people after so many wars and battles. (It’s nothing but marketing.) I went further and further in my questioning of the world, remembering how she had told me they had met each other (a story that had made me laugh for hours and hours), and all of a sudden aware of the fact that it could be private information, I asked myself how far you could ‘reveal’ things that had been told to you in a certain confidence. Is what is told depending on the other to be told, or may you say what you know as you know it, as long as you are not hurting someone bitterly? But when does it hurt some one? If I put imaginary characters instead of the real names, will it ever be the same? A story is linked to a situation, to people coming from some where, is the backing of other stories told perhaps in colours and shadows and images. It may hurt somehow? Perhaps it helps? How many people would no be attracted by something precisely because it has a story, because there are human beings behind, because there are anecdotes and not just the vile and wild desire to make money, at least in appearance? It is obvious that I would have to ask Karabulut for his permission to tell a story like that (if I consider he is a friend). I have to say that I do really don’t care about Rothschild’s image … Which means that a certain freedom of expression is nothing but the deliberate will to respect also a certain number of boundaries that keep you in relation to others. The fact of just spitting on others will finally leave you alone. You may … if you have friends to protect you when attacks become violent. They always do.

This, of course, concerning more personal information. The fact of boasting myself with supper with Betty Catroux (you’ve seen, grandma, what an important person that is!!), without mentioning any personal detail (I know really too much of, but that is because daughter Maxime would not know how to keep her mouth shut, Madame Inès de la Fressange, so if you had to prefer one of both: better Daphne, or Pippa, than Maxime, would be my advice), should only make French high society aware of the fact that there are really people … talking too much! (Hannah didn’t, don’t blame her.)

Well, yes, she was friend of both Betty Catroux and the Carolina of Monaco. And she wanted really but really to steal my Guerlain idea, as she has, if you didn’t know, just lanced a new perfume on the market. She had a boutique in Paris, too. And should be a very nice woman after all (it’s true that Betty Catroux had an excellent taste, even for her friends.) Well you can, my dear Madame de la Fressange, everything own to Betty Catroux’s memory, but … please inivite her to diner one night, if she ever wants …She’s quite peculiar, I must say. And next time, when you enter “chataigne” in English, don’t be so surprised to find my texts again … Enter: translate english chataigne, for example. Could be of help?

I have to admit and confess that something like visions of angel’s fields do invade my consciousness in a strange way I couldn’t order until now, reason why I was requesting the help of Sask (You think it not true, but it is: Natasha was investigating my natural surroundigs in order to know how expensive I would become for the Russian Army, was highly satisfied when she discovered I had just a little room, promised to keep the same environment in order not to disturb my biosystem, along with an improvement consisting in having two or three soldiers washing my clothes as she would have too much work for me for me to take care about that, and bought me up for 347 USD from my GM Sandra Salazar. Really, but really, Natasha. Now to make an improvement to your usually quite disastruous financial organization: what if you sell me now to the Israeli Army for 300.000 USD and the warrant of more sophisticated results? I promise Sask will keep her word… certainly), so that I usually do know more or less what is happening through a strange interconnection of my system with ‘electronic waves’. Going to eat I remembered Yura, and thus Natasha came immediately into my mind, and I thought of researching mareikesievers in google. Both had sent an e-mail. Although it gives surprises (I knew that Sask had sent a message about 6 hours before, and Natascha a little later), sometimes it is really horrible when you become aware of terrible attacks made on satelites you think is your own logical system. I thus look very often as if I were running away, as I still can’t make the difference between people and logical compounds, and myself and space related engines. I will kindly request of Sask whether she can’t get a subvention of the Monaco House in order to finance research and get the necessary data to clear up my own system. Never mind, Google, I’ll stay in touch. Perhaps overflowing gratitude of Inès de la Fressange concerning the fact that she has been allowed to steal something once in her life, may open more conservative doors ….

Parisian t-shirts

Inés de la Fressange jumped into the idea of producing French t-shirts, and of course couldn’t but get tempted by getting inspired by mine (yes, in French, the word: to copy, does not exist, it is ‘inspired of’). Thus, full of happiness, she translated the one with the madness by: “Toute la folie entre deux rives.” (All madness between two shores.) And was rather surprised when a friend she told her inspiration to, qualified this as… sexual. (She has never been very good in English, to say the truth, the proof: she continues searching the meaning of ‘chataigne’ in English in French logic, and does fall constantly on my text: ‘chataigne what means’, could rather be an allusion to my very bad joke about British Airways: Buy it! (The one says) B(u)y, what means? (the other asked).

Now, in order to help this poor woman with her ‘chataigne’, it seems to be called walnut mushroom. Isn’t it sexual?

*Stories are … invented! Pictures though real and … very beautiful.


We were lucky enough grandma to pass through all posible censorships after Doris Wilheim’s indefinite help (she did very well understand that the very fact of not letting the last article appear would be misunderstood as a hint of Mossad intervening in our private affairs: thus she violently objected against possible virtual cutting off the line.)

Inès de la Fressange was though not that lucky. After having made researches for three days (French are like that, they do never, but really never follow indications, they want everything be the result of their inspiration, were it a copy. Even copies need of certain inspiration, my chinese friend Tchin Li smiled), she finally managed to find what seemed the most proper translation for ‘marron’ (in France they make the difference between eatable marron and non eatable chataigne, which look exactly the same way), and wrote down (she was really proud of herself that day, she said): “Conquer!” And on the other side of the t-shirt: “The American market.”

“Now why the hell was that censored again?”and she started crying. This, ma chère, has easy explanation. There is a Spanish joke saying a man going to a psychiatrists who shows him a series of pictures. Two horizontal lines, and the man says, that’s two people making love. Two vertical lines, and the man says, two people making love standing, aso. After 6 or seven pictures, the psychiatrists concludes: “You are a sexual maniac.” And the man answers:”Why? You shew me the pictures …”

You’ve always have to be careful, ma chère, there are people who have simply no sense of suspended humor.

Ah! I forgot: the chinese translation for ‘bastardos de la casa de alba’ gave something like ‘confluently linked to the house of dawn’ (isn’t it beautiful?). We should learn diplomacy from these Chinese, really. What means, really but really, bastard?

Arriving to this point, many other questions have invaded our unconscious, but we will try to seek out the requests, while first asking many questions to everyone, as invited by what seems to be an officer of the US army


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