Posted by: Sk | February 22, 2009

Chapters 19 & 20

Chapter 19: The blood of the bat

I saw Halil in the morning. I saw him from the window sitting on the steps just in front of the shop. With a blue eye and broken lips. He didn’t looked very well, and though not that bad, either. I made him a sign through the glass to tell him that I was going to meet him after, in the afternoon and he acknowledged. In fact, I had been confronted to a new dilemma very early in the morning. I’ve stated that it must be some routine Sask passes by in the morning and today she said “He’ll be free in three days.” He, must be Halil, I thought. I saw him then with his blue eyes and his broken lip and considered that it was not that easy to bring such news at once and wanted to think about it all.

Today is the 14th march. It’s the first time I ask what day it is and I don’t know why it had become of importance, all of sudden. Usually I’m already quite satisfied with knowing what time it is. You know it is saturday because there is a guard less. There is some kind of watch in the room with the coffee machine, like in one of Borchert’s stories. And I didn’t care very much about days, actually, until today. Something is changing though – I’m getting back the vision of volume. It’s true that already in Ecuador I had recovered the vision of space as space and had asked myself how it was possible to regain facculties after so many years. In fact it’s weird because you finish by not having a memory of how it was before. And now I think, ah, yes, before it was like that and sometimes I even feel like a newborn. That’s why the fire escaped my control. My vision was fixed and did not capture signals from one side, which is not normal because I was just besides and the stick wasn’t bigger than 1.30 m. I must have been afraid, then, but even fright had another name and did not arise feelings. Must be some side effects of spices, I tend to think, as I don’t want to believe in miracles. Spices are some kind of miracle, too, don’t say.

In any case I went down to the courtyard in some kind of slow motion. The afternoon. Halil was there and even if not as handsome as usual, he didn’t look that pale and absent as before. I didn’t ask questions, and as if he were excusing himself for being in such bad shape he said “The guards did this.” “Hmm. You were up the office a few days before?” “Yes,” he answered, “I was asked many questions.” “They say upstairs they’ll let you free in order to follow your contacts.” “But I don’t have any.” “It’s not what they think.” “Ah.” He said. “It’s not what appeared to me.” “It’s what will appear to the others.” He looked a little bit puzzled and I laughed and said “Looks broken lips may save someone’s life.” And bought a packet of cigarettes and said, I have to leave now, I have a lot to do. “Ah, and can you send these letters for me when you leave.” “Like the one you gave me three weeks ago?” “Yes, exactly.” “Hope they don’t intervene them.” “I hope so, too.”

And said, see you tomorrow then and left, laughing and laughing all alone by myself and thinking poor guy – if it were an accident or intended, in any case nobody is going to suspect you’ve been delivering information without anyone’s permission and if they do, for sure, it was wrong, which will make you gain points among them. You’re too honest, Halil, and to look innocent to your eyes and to the environment you are in now, will make you look very guilty in other whereabouts you don’t consider now. Blue eyes and broken lips may be helpful, sometimes, and it is true that he looks better, in any case.

Of course I thought, because I’m very wicked myself, that if I were Sask I’d leave free at once a very wicked one, a really horribly wicked one, and at the same time make use of some confidential information in order to let know in the whereabouts there was someone talking too much around. They’ll make his life impossible themselves, and that can always be of help. But Sask doesn’t think that far and probably she’s even promissed some money to Halil, which is even more dangerous. If he doesn’t say he’s got it because he has managed to cheat them with false information it’s done for him, too. How careless we can be sometimes – but what, makes you develop intelligence, too.

He makes me think of Martini, somehow. Martini was an albanian who used to come to the village and even staid there for long periods. He was very young and quite handsome, too. Whenever I saw him I had the feeling of seeing someone who is running into suicide by provoking violent situations all around him just because he has condamned himself to the belief it were impossible to get someone you love the other side of borders. As if love were not a blond, or a green eyed by necessarily a greek who is so far away because people don’t understand that love is stronger than races. Greek are very closed. But not only. Albanian, too. And he had that cold pride which is nothing but the indifference to death arising from his conviction that if it were impossible to get who you want, it doesn’t matter if you die. Difficult thing, I had thought then, very very difficult. Because he was right, somehow. And though, was it a reason to die. It’s strange, isn’t it, how the same is always the same all over, and what is difficult is somehow difficult somewhere else, too, and then it is impossible, and you see people crashing their destiny against absurds. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they attach themselves to something else, in the depth of themselves, a careless wanting to eat bananas the day after, a somewhat not wanting to take care of the future, just leaving one day pass and the other after, until you pass from one thing to the other and you discover that you have found the one you were looking for in mysterious ways, following slight signs of the unconscious and you start shouting at yourself and say: Have done nothing all my life and now, how am I going to feed her. But that’s it, that she wasn’t there before. And little hope to find her.

Well, that makes me feel some nostalgia of those times when albanian were still ’stipar’, the little folks of the ‘Lord of the rings’ and to repair a broken pipe ment someone was talking too much and after a little while, you had some article appearing in Figaro saying that someone ‘had wanted to save the world by opening all the locks of a dam in Albania and had submerged the whole town in water’, and it was linked somehow and it did always give you the feeling enormous events were jumping out of every days happenings all around the world.

Like the bridge. Like the happenings of the bridges during the Kosovo war. When all these people went holding hands and lights to the bridges until they were bombed up. I thought of it again while considering the falaffel demonstration, and sometimes I wanted to think I had something to do with it and sometime I simply could not believe it. But the falaffel demonstration says a lot in favour of it. I had had some meeting then, just before the war, with the gipsies. Gipsies and serbian are cut off one of the other as if, I thought, soul was still hidden away behind some strong indifferent structures of understanding and as much as soul does always cheat understanding, as much did gipsies with serbian. “Go to the bridge”, I said then and in serbian not in turkish, because there were some serbish speaking populations in the north of Greece who had taught me that word. She, the old woman, told me to go up the mountain. And I went up the mountain and serbian went to the bridges.

But the bridges were bombed up after and I said, that’s it, to murder innocence and it’s a german mind that is behind. I was working then at the determination of identity of the german not only because it was a personal problem, I mean you feel strange somehow with some particles inside of your blood, as you finish by putting it, that are constantly pushing thought into some dirty obscure waters so that you have always the feeling you’re in a pot full of mud hold to the shore by a little stick that looks like a Spanish definition.

That’s why I didn’t want to believe anymore ‘we were all the same’ and Kant’s definitions were true, I thought, but just for them. It’s saying them or a part of myself, but it’s certainly not universal. To define truth as an absolute referrent that may allow solving my task of defining that which had no definition as I had discovered when I was young led to the characterization of different national characteristics, which I hold as self referred. I mean, a Spaniard does not have the same vision of an Irish or a Russian tha a French as different historical happenings have enlargened or narrowed the perspective. Say, you won’t thus easily admire a french perfume if Napoleon has invaded your territory even if it is such a long time ago. But considering that it is a determined ‘you’ who is watching at things you finish by establishing that there is some inner essential logic that determines the behaviour of a whole people and that it is this logic which on the other hand determines the interaction it may have with others in their particular logic.

Bt I couldn’t get a clue of what the German logic was. These people, I used to think, do all in all behave as if they had no identity. I went through what I knew about them once and again. Literature, which I knew quite well, history, culture, politics, finances. They have good musicians, I thought. Bach or Schubert and from the surroundings, Liszt (Hungary) Mozart (Austria) Strauss (Austria). Tones, rhythms. That’s all they have, all the rest is bullshit. Literature is artificial as if it were always saying something by hiding away something else. Although I like Schiller even if it a little bit pompous somewhere. But it keeps tones. Tones, again.

I studied the Nibelungenlied once and again. It must be there, somewhere.

Then I went to my personal experience, to family members, to concrete observations in every day’s life. I had written a poem when I was 18, in Colombia, in Spanish. The poem said “I have played with death, I’ve sat her down on willow and have crowned her queen of a realm of darkness. But she has fallen down, she has fallen and was covered with blood, with mud and with fright – black boots, white skin.” When I saw the hypnaco on the branch that day, this poem came back to my mind. Black boots, white skin. The colours of the hypnaco.

From one thing to the other I thought at if you took main characteristics as appearing even now, you may conclude to some story which I finished by reconstructing. For example: they do always do everything by themselves, they are always better than the others, they pretend they can teach you your own language, they tend invading other people’s territories without distinction, in education they tend to show teachers are cruel and distribute horrible punishments (Max und Moritz), they want to prove they are good workers, they make excellent machines, they have always been the same place and sprung out of nothingness in the territory of actual Germany.

But yer in turkish means earth, I thought, and Turks don’t come from Germany. But ‘bildim’ in turkish means ‘I knew’ and ‘Bildung’ is education in German. And Turks don’t come from Germany. Atta in gothic means father and ata means father in turkish. And there are many. Kurt means woolf in turkish and Kurt is a German name. My grandmother shows obvious asian features. These people arrived from Asia, it’s an evidence. They seem to be a to tartar or turks or mongols related tribe, that finishes by calling itself Goth. Like Gott, like god. And Bog is god in bulgarian and Bock is a buck. The devil’s a buck but that’s perhaps to go to far. Probably arriving with huns, when they came to Europe. Attila  had gathered many tribes around him and the most probable thing is that they arrived with him.

And many other small observations. I asked Tchin Li whether he did not know about some miserable people having misbehaved themselves very seriously a long long time ago. He said he would look in his archives. ‘That’s very old chinese,’ he said, ‘I don’t know whether I understand it myself.’ And smiled. ‘There is a story here,’ he said after a while, ‘with three crosses.’ ‘Crosses’. ‘It’s forbidden in reading,’ he said. Hmm. ‘And in the whereabouts? There must be a crossed reference.’ He had told me about crossed references. ‘The cause does always lead to the consequence. There are consequences you don’t talk about. The causes lead to the consequences.’ He laughed. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, and remained in silence as if he was considering how much he could tell me.

I finally understood the following. Some slaves  – which at those time (he gave long explanations) were not slaves as you understand it today, but people who we said ‘have just come down the trees’ and don’t know to deal with values and were given some work in order to give them through the repetition of some activity some structures that form the understanding in order for them to develop an own identity in exchange for some food and shelter and were given some regulations – were given the task of burying. They wouldn’t want to submit to their task and finally escaped. They fled to some caves in the mountains. They came back after a while and said ‘they had the wisdom’ and wanted to be received by the grandmaster. He refused and sent a pupil. The pupil came back. He said, he had seen what can’t be seen. And the grandmaster staid puzzled and said ‘wash your hands and tell them to come’. He received some of those. “What have you done?” “We see what you can’t see.” He lifted his eyebrow and said, “I’ll give you shelter for a few days in these dependances near to the temple and I’ll see if what you say is true.” Something happened. Three crosses. “Leave the borders of my kingdom,” he said to them, “you have no language and you have killed innocence.” He notes (it’s written randomly): They may be the cause of the death of China. Shall they never come back. And if they do pray for us to be awaken. And some signs that are a malediction, with trembling hand. Besides: probably this ( a substance) and that before (some other substance). – Not (I hope) the blood of the bat. Nobody has gone into these realms.

Hmm. Caves, blood, bats. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Cimeteries. The same. “Da tritt der Teufel in den Kreis und winkt dem einen zu.” (The devil’s steps into the round and makes the one a sign.) A soup of bat blood. (Dragon – the blood of the dragon – Nibelungen).

They have gone up the caves and there were a lot of bats. Without anything to eat, they ‘hunt’ bats and make a soup out of it. Bat is “to be seen” (this is why they aren’t seen – Tchin Li said – every animal is a logic, and some we may use, some we may not.) It is possible that this altered some structures of perception, I’m sure, they see as if it were shining more in some places. Hypnaco shines inside of these patterns. Hypnaco is dangerous, but it is light. Let us take something in order to avoid the bad side effects. Morphine. “El remedio antes de la enfermedad.” (The remedy before the illness.) “Es mas tonto que Abundio. Vendió el coche para comprar gasolina.” (He’s sillier than Abundio – he sold the car to buy petrol.) Usually you have to know what you’re ill of in order to know what you have to take to get healed. Here, you presume you may avoid something by taking something else before. The causal structures are altered in subjective intentionality.

Patterns: ‘to be seen’ in ‘I see’: ‘I see’ implies in undertones ‘I want to be seen’ – a passive inside of an active. The notion of identity disappears as one implies the contrary in patterns of passive/active. Thus: not ‘I’ but ‘we’. “We see = want to be seen”. In structure parricide (hypnaco) = distruction of law. In structure psychic identity (lines ff) = morphine. (Artificial benjaminite type).

“You have no language.” You can’t seize the concept. “You have killed innocence.” The structure of causality altered, provokes a moral deviation of fault towards someone else. That’s what Nibelungen say. Intention: Beat the huns. Remedy: alliance with France (Burgund). Consequence: a blood bath.

Patterns of identity: formal (these as given above inside of characters that form like points in referential interaction = a logic). In general terms: logic kept in wings ff as artificially created through the interaction (I see (m of f) = I’m seen (f of f)). Which is to say: fusion of wings ff and mm (Spy program: absorption of elements of identity of foreign people through ’splitters’). Identity: copied.

What is it? Hell on earth. Psychopathetic logic. – It is worse when you see an image of it. That’s what the Nibelungen say, finally: jealousy has driven us to put our hand on ourselves while pretending to honor in love (Kriemhilde) and battle (Viena). Bad knot. But you see, that’s it all: you can even use wickedness in order to make miracles. It’s just to turn everything the other way round. Follow the song of the birds …

I don’t know where I’ve gone lost. It’s always the same with this story. It’s painful and sad and desperating. Don’t say. It’s not that there is not a way out, perhaps – it’s that you should never say. It is hidden away among the words and maybe you’ll find it. If you’re too sure, you’ll never get out. If you do, you change your name because you understand you hadn’t one before. Innocence is more than wickedness and survives in the sound of my language, I can still hear the birds, but it is not myself who is hearing them.

It must have been the story with the cards. It somehow reminded me of the men in the cave.

Texts left in the computer

https://paramana.wordpress.com/category/19-fia-ch-19/

Chapter 20: The graal

And everything came up again, and almost it is as if my carefully built up world with windows and walls and schedules had disappeared again – but I must confront myself to some past and thus, to some present, otherwise I’ll never manage to live a peaceful life, after, if I ever manage to buy up an ‘after’.  And although I don’t believe that my point of view will ever be understood – the more I go through the whole, the more I finish by asking myself in which conceptual world I may have been living allowing I may stubbornly follow some plan and project, which, being in the depth nothing but the desperate attempt to give a name to that which had no name, a pain (did I not make up one single song in Greek, saying : Exo enan pono stin psixi, kai den ksero pos tha bgei / exo enan pono stin psixi kai den ksero pios tha to pei – I have a pain in my soul, and I don’t know how it will leave / I have a pain in my soul and I don’t know who’ll say it), had finished by generating, to my complete unawareness, at the beginning, such a general situation.

With some distances I may make the difference between two different things: one fact: that I have all reasons to complain and it is me constantly who is accused. For the first I’m never listened to and for the second, I’m never ask to respond for. I’m living in a situation which very much ressembles the walking on sharp edges, frozen and cutting and some sharp abysses to both sides. Whatever I do, it’s misunderstood, whatever I’m supposed to have done, is always transmitted through to gossip ressembling channels, distroying all possibility of survival. And a second fact: from an objective point of view, I’m nothing but a professional who’s doing his job inside of legally given frames. I need proves for demonstration, I need to locate problems I have to give an answer to, I’m in the ethic obligation to warn somehow of the consequences of a certain number of things if I can be sure of the fact it were so. Personally I’m not interested neither in revolutions nor in revolts, not even excessively in changes in legislation, it is factually none of my concern. To my understanding it is enough with changing the moral disposition in order to be able to live in the most horrible environments. I don’t interfere in foreign affairs, not even from far. Was I not asked by an iranian woman, what I thought of the fact of being obliged to wear veils, she thought so oppressing, and I said: Veils can be very beautiful, to. To say, that my general disposition tends to maintain laws, as they are, wherever they are, because it’s not my affair to change them. You have to live with them, I tend to think, better take it the best way possible.

But precisely, I remarked after a long while, not all the people see things this way. Because I’m working at distortion of angles of vision of reality that may imply the understanding of guilts which may have consequences. To say: I proof that Serbia is innocent of all charges through some ancestral method which works only and only if there’s innocence in soul. Even if you may condition public opinion for a while and even for a long while, the fact is there, in the depth of the general unconscious, waiting for time to pass and it will show that Serbia was right and the others wrong. It implies further that accusations which had become the 100% of the european public opinion, are wrong. It means that public opinion is mislead. It implies that political intentionality is using the distortion of facts for some more or less obscure goal – it may imply dictatorial situations in Europe. It has become political, against my will, against all intentionality, against all intention. Because ‘they’, the ‘others’, the obscure opposition I don’t deal with because I don’t get into politics, is seeing consequences I do not even think about because it should not affect me. And they are trying to make me disappear, to distroy my image, to let me die of hunger and lonelyness in order for me not to stay there saying without a word, the evidence: turn the accusations against Serbia against yourselves, and you’ll certainly hit the point. There is a moment when you have to become political, were in oblique ways, because I don’t like politics, were it just using weapons of justice saying: there is justice none, there where you’re sitting around and this means, I don’t have to submit to the state. If you want to go back to the stone age, you hit me I hit you, let’s go back, I don’t mind, but don’t come after with police forces pretending to trials, justice, laws and freedom. In 2002 I said to myself that the best thing to do in such situation was to convert myself to judaism, just because you could still pay the eye with the eye and the hand with the hand. If it’s what you want … Pardon does only come from heavens.

Because precisely. Looking back, my only intervention that may have been understood politically, is my favouring of Serbia during the Kosovo war. I even wrote a long article on the subject in a provincial newspaper. And even sent whole lots of protestations concerning the lack of freedom of speech on the subject to french newspapers. It’s true. Completely. And not only for personal reasons (you never put your hand on someone who has given you hospitality – that’s law and sacred), it’s that it was obviouly a rape of international law. It was accusing without trial, putting the monster before he had been judged, it is the absurd justification of war and death through the pretension to the respect of human rights. It’s what they had done to me, in the banque affair, and what, if you don’t share a political position, you may share the disgust towards the same affront.

You stay there and say, if you ever change battle fields, it’s done for you, too. You are permitting arbitrary accusation be presented as ultimate justice justifying arbitrary aggression. No, Sir, I don’t want this to happen to myself, and what happens on larger scales will necessarily have consequences on personal affairs. Can you say, it may be allowed to hit someone because he says he’s a racist? Does the very fact of maintaing the absurd of such a thing make of you a racist? It’s just a point of law. And it had happened, and I saw it with my own eyes. And it went on happening.

It’s a problem, a deep, a general, most disturbing problem. Because it has implications. If things are such, may not the very angle of distortion you’re using in order to lead national affairs have implications on science, on education, on health? If you see unjustice when there is respect of law, will you not see an illness there were the person is healthy? Will you not think a chemistry good when it is distroying the environments? Will it not promote liers, people who copy, who delate and not sound rational people with were it a little common sense? Will it not lead to a financial breakdown because value is transferred from the valuable to the fake? It’s all the same problem, and it is gravest.

As a philosopher I’m no supposed to intervene on the social scene. It’s not my job, it’s not what I’m dealing with. I know that fundamental structures do alter behaviour. I have to locate the problem and try giving a solution to it in concept. If I manage to make myself understood, changes are slowly introduced without anyone even being aware of it. Which structures are disturbing the apprehension of reality to the point of producing such monstruous side effects? How are they spread? What do they affect? How can you generalize a solution without disturbing a whole? That’s my business. Until it becomes personal.

Are you aggressing me? Are you insulting me? Are you not assuring my rights as citizen? Ok. As an individual, as a person with some national belonging I may pretend to a certain number of things, which, if not assured, allow that at least I say what is happening. If this reminds many others of the fact that the same has happened to them, it just proves that the situation is worse than I could have ever imagined.

In fact, the problem is simple. Shattered patterns of understanding due to the one or the other provoke some dysfunction in the apprehension of reality. In different patterns, this affects populations that may be located in Germany and in France. The incapability of dealing with reality does provoke an alliance of both. Worse, much worse: German patterns are progressively introduced in dogmatic teaching of the Catholic Church as they seem to assure some continuation after death. Yes, in hell, it’s obvious, but it looks so powerful. It becomes impossible to simply ‘die’, because the formal patterns do not allow the recognition of ’signs’ allowing the ‘natural’ detachment of soul from body. What’s that? Exactly the distortion that appears in justice. You want to make it political? Ok. Let’s make it religious. It’s the same.

You have finally simply no other choice but to subjectively annihilate the influence of the Catholic Church. See, Germany, an illness is an illness of whatever nature, and perhaps it may be healed. But you don’t make of it a dogmatic truth. It may be the way for you to get out of your shit if you, for once in you damend history, accept a fact as a fact and stop wanting to make of it some universal evidence in Church, on top.

Put it bluntly: the ‘blood of the bat’ which is most certainly the cause of all, produces alterations in the perception of light. The bat is a parricide structure as it omits the active, and holds for only the passive (filioque). It makes you see what others can’t see – the hypnacos – a bacteria that provokes the maintaining of the fundamental structures of parricide patterns in genetical continuation. If this has happened two thousand years ago, it is still there, along with the perception of light frequencies on lower realms of the unconscious. I saw it – inside of these patterns, with consciousness at this level, you see shining bright where others don’t see anything. The fact that there are obvious disturbances in the attraction of cosmic light frequencies makes that the fundamental structure perceiving this light, is absorbing these frequencies which produces an alteration in the nervous system, provoking the materialization of ‘rottenness’ as some kind of ‘image’ of the interaction of soul with lower realms. It drives you mad, it makes you loose control, it leads to a definite painful mass death, irrevocably.

This is the naked, cruel and crude truth.

I have more than proofs, which are not scientific (verified) but do allow building scientific proofs up. Example: I had a horn, a little lamb’s horn. This horn had some marks, which is normal, like very small cuts inside. Periodically I saw these lines ’shining’, as if some deep bright light was getting out of it. Worse. Attaching myself to this a evidence, I remark that if I stay in these patterns of understanding you may observe a reversion in time. August: someone says something, which is out of context, and which I don’t understand. I stay puzzled and keep the fact in my memory. Next year, august: I ask a question, whose answer has been given … a year before. It’s not but after that I establish the link between both. The bat’s blood has altered the structures of causality and they are fixed in hypnaco and hidden away in morphine.

I’ve more. The very fact that I’ve found three of those hypnacos that are usually more than invisible, for example. What do you do? I can’t claim that I’m maintaining a scientific truth, because it is not true. I can claim I’ve proofs enough for myself, that’s all. I’m ordering my reality inside of this evidence: there are 130.000.000 people who may die and they are themselves putting pressure for my sayings not to be taken seriously. It’s like that, and you know it – the very illness is distorting reality, necessarily my sayings are aggressive. What do you do? You go abroad and search for people who may not be affected by it. You give enough information in order to possibly move others to do something. You keep clearest positions that are nothing but solutions to a heaviest problem.

Reinforcement of soul. The only way out. Means? Reinforcement of women. It’s not that you attack men, it’s that men are transmitting the logical patterns that are producing the illness. You have to attack men, not as a universal position, but as a remedy to something that has gone out of control. You have to attack the Church because it has made universal not a truth but an illness. It’s this or nothing and I know it. First: you isolate the illness. Quarantaine. Then, you may find a solution. Eventually, perhaps. But even if you don’t have it, you will not leave ethically such an illness be spread all over.

And you speak English as only possible bridge to a hypothetical solution. Why? German were evangelized mostly by Irish people. Irish people speak in symbols and fairy tales. Their structures find way out to English in understanding. In fact, the ‘what is not said in Nibelungen’ is logically given words in English through Irish metaphore. Madness deriving of King Arthur’s Graal is much more interesting than a scientific exposure. The German ’structure’ has attached itself to the English language somewhere, somehow, as consequence of the transmission of the ‘holy’ or ’sacred’ and will be producing elements, hints, stories all over history. Only the English has patterns of interaction that may allow the localization of the problem and thus, of a possible solution.

To give an image of what is ‘hypnacos’ I followed the scam and frauds affair as follows. The ‘innocence’ of the presentation is the ‘looking innocent’ deriving of morphine. What is hidden behind is wicked and criminal. It does distroy innocence, too. It affects banks, financial interactions, economical organizations, social relationships. I don’t care about those, I just need to show something in order for it to become understandable, intelligible, seizable. But it is obvious that if the rest of the social body does not annihilate this kind of behaviour, the structures reproducing the illness are going to be spread all over, and it is no joke.

In fact, you may need thousands of years in order to get behind something, but you get there. It’s obvious that ‘Nibelungen’ does clearly show patterns where the private life (marriage, celebration) is used and misused for political goals in some kind of fused or even reverted pattern, confusing the one with the other. You get married because you love not because it seems to you that you may get up some social steps if you get this or the other woman. You invite someone in order to celebrate something, not in order to take some revenge for something. If you mean (because these things exist, but they’re wicked) that you can make of it a normal pattern of behaviour you’re distroying natural patterns of behaviour and logically the determining identification of reality. What you say is nothing. And you can’t pretend it were on top, truth, universal, science or even … religion.

What do you prefer? I shut up? I may. Do you want to die? I don’t care.

I’d say I forget about it all. I concentrate on my seduction strategy here. Because I know if I think about it, I’ll try doing something again. Find some image. Put elements together. In fact it is true that I had solved my personal problem a long time ago, by just cracking kantian definitions. That was 1992/3. I could make synthesis in essence after and even pretend to some wisdom deriving of the integration of foreign elements, mostly of the ancient testament which I used as reference. I could have cared about myself after, and I thought it was perhaps a task to generalize a solution.

Texts left in the computer

https://paramana.wordpress.com/category/20-fia-ch-20/

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