Posted by: Sk | February 22, 2009

Chapters 8 & 9

Chapter 8: Trap 348

I won’t say she’s a psychopath although I should suspect it. In any case, it’s good to do as if I may suspect such thing and properly test it. Why. It is obvious that the very fact of leaving some cut off pieces of a text without context in my surroundings is some kind of rape. Even texts and sentences are requests that should have a context, and a proper one. Say, sit down in front of someone and ask: “What did you mean by these things?” Or: “Did you write it? If not, where did you get it from?” It’s obvious that taken from the point of view of medical ethics the territory of the doctor restrains itself to an office. To take a whole prison – on top – for a private property from the point of view of science, is a proper invasion of territory. You leave something around without anyone’s permission: a rape. It’s obvious. On top, it is an evidence that the meaning of the text has already been determined in some obscure and obtuse context of interpretation: a murder. My life is myself, who is me in what I think and what I say. My life is possible only if who I’m is given some proper environment to breathe (correct interpretation), to eat (possible adequate feedback) and to sleep (not absolute in determination of saying). The fact of robbing me out of all this: wrong interpretation, no feedback, pretension to absolute determination in meaning in time for identity, is a murder.

Sask, you’re a raper and a murder. At least this would be what you’d say, if you were me. But I’m not you, luckily. It’s true that she was very polite today, which means that my surrepticious abstract accusations have hit some part of some unconscious. Good sign. Thus, I’m not going to dictate a judgement so quickly, but make some test.

Today, I’m going to become a little bit more wicked. Instead of leaving texts without comment, I’m going to leave some accidentally and coincidentally forgotten comment. She’ll believe. It’s the patterns of her own lies, yesterday. I was supposed to believe it.

“I hope she doesn’t have any problems with her computer today. Say, I always forget everything everywhere. Must have some problem with concentration. But what. That one doesn’t know anything about love anyhow. Should make some deeper reading of things. Perhaps I should give her my other cd *** to read, the one with the love story Hannah had written. It should still be there, in my room. It’s years I haven’t gone through it.”

I’m sure she’ll take it when I’m sleeping. That would make even a thief out of her. Violation of private space and illegal appropriation of private property. And after they want to accuse you of things. Such people.

In fact, it’s true that I felt much better today. I felt I was getting out of my psychic isolation as in the morning a cd, I usually keep under the pillow – just in case – had fallen the side of the wall down to the floor. As I wanted to get it back after stating it was missing in my morning’s control, I had to move the bed away from the wall. And what do I discover. Some writing with lipsstick, pink to fuchsia, saying: “coffee is miserable”. Ah, such a truth that without reaching heights like the one of Galilee’s turning around world, seemed even more true from a subjective point of view as it really but really was what I was thinking myself all the time. It makes you feel psychic relationships to unknown and I must say, that the very fact of writing it under the level of the bed does very much fit my own character, too. I haven’t said anything yet, either. Must be a cousin of mine, a very far one. I would have never used a lipstick for that (I haven’t any, by the way) – and what, haven’t I enough accusations on my head in order to get a ‘damage of public property’ on top. That one, for sure, had less accusations pending in order to dare such a step forward.

I any case I had to prove in the morning that I knew my passport data by heart, perhaps they’re verifying whether I’m not using some false identity. Imagine I have just stolen a passport for other reasons and, bad luck, the one was researched by 567 international police officers. Perhaps that is my only crime – to look as if I knew my passport data by heart, although they’re really mine, unluckily. I’m not going to escape responsibilities. What can I do. So many crimes and see, it’s an evidence that I’m neither a raper nor a murder. I’d never leave papers all around like that or only in Israel.

It’s easy to see why. It allows theologically the ‘eye for eye’ and ‘tooth for tooth’. Thus, what I wouldn’t do by myself is justified as an answer to a similar behaviour. And what. My beautiful text is certainly not to be understood the same way you have understood the one she left all around. Which is to say, I’m bad, but not wicked.

As she must have gone through all my legal literature yesterday – if she closed an eye tonight, the poor -, and she very much looked like it (I wouldn’t suspect a love affair, seen the type), she must know that I’m already and again innocent of stealing pictures and logos and other misbehaviours of the kind. Not that it is very ethical, I admit, but they have robbed me out of everything, even my university titles and they don’t answer to claim. There is reason, there is more than reason, and on top, I’m respecting law, national idiosincrasy and behaviour and for the rest, I don’t have to care about. I mean, if you don’t like it. On top, don’t say Sask, but Israel hasn’t signed the international agreements on intellectual property, either. So.

It’s true that my demonstration of innocence concerning rapes and murders (now, that one) is perhaps not scientific. But it should be a hint to be considered. If it weren’t, there are no proofs, either, and people have a lot of fantasy. I mean, even reasons to make up things. I would have been a little bit more careful with the accusations – they tend to turn themselves against the one who accuses and certainly will finish by leaving proofs.

I’m not going to spend my time explaining that the dealing with psychopaths is a dangerous job. They have a peculiar language. They may consider a rape the very fact of insisting in leaving some unproper activity, for example. You better be careful with them. And specify the type of witness before running into such expenses.

I was said that I may receive letters twice a week. On Monday and Thursday. That’s good news. I asked for ’skype’ and was said that internet connection is not available. Well, I won’t spend my money in phone calls. But, I have the right my letters not to be seen through. Which is not the same for packages, as they may contain forbidden objects. That’s good. Money can be sent through letters, too, and thus I didn’t even ask if I could do some job. It’s none of her concern, anyhow. Forget the webpages. But translations pay and even better. Whether it is possible to have something be bought from outside. If someone brings it. Well. I don’t know anyone here. And would certainly not go into the search of Shiri or Eymel in such a shameful situation. Perhaps I may convince my father of the fact that it is islamically absolutely necessary to travel to Jerusalem at least once in one’s life.

No texts, today. It may deviate her attention from my cd. Must be tired on top of that. Have to leave a time for her to rest.

Texts left in the computer

Chapter 9: International terrorism

It’s five days since I’ve last written something on this computer. Sask has disappeared ever since and I’ve plunged in tv studies. I must look like a parrot trying to repeat words of unknown meaning I seize more or less as they sound from the most different programs you manage to follow in one or the other channel – I hope nobody is in the wherabouts.

That’s how I learned French when I was 23. Sitting for hours at night in front of television watching ‘mission impossible’ – which was perhaps not chosen accidentally. As much the one, as the other to learn French quickly enough. Of course my aunt’s dictates were of help, too (I shouldn’t mention her, as I’ve had some quarrel with her, but you should always respect teachers even if they are aunts you finish by quarreling with). I still remember as if it were today. It was summer and some newspaper was trying to fish in summer and beaches lost readers with the silliest love story I’ve ever heard of in my life. Kind hungarian prince in love with a poor maid and I don’t know what and this was chapter after chapter the contents of my dictate. It wasn’t that bad, finally: impossible missions and hungarian princes finished by allowing me enter the Sorbonne French course for foreigners, second rank (first were the best). I still wonder how I managed to learn so quickly so many things, but it is an evidence that after just one year of French I managed to get even into Sorbonne, philosophy department, without problems with the language (?!): I wasn’t that proud of myself at those times, but now, in these miserable circumstances, I’ll have to attach special merits and values to things I didn’t consider before. So. Perhaps I still have some skills left from before and manage to learn a few words of this peculiar language. Shir means song, but that I was told by Shiri a long time ago. And the possessive pronouns are put behind the noun. Thus ’shiri’ means ‘my song’. Like in Turkish, although the endings are different. And ‘manishma’ means hello or how are you. I was told by Yusif in 2003, and that’s about all I know. On top of that, they have unreadable letters. Not enough with learning cyrillic and greek letters I would have to take some lessons in design in order to get this alphabet, too. Not to become ridiculous, I mean. There was a chinese student at Sorbonne at those times and I told her to write some characters on a paper. She did. And I copied (while the teacher was declining some subjunctive). She said: you write like a child. Which was an evidence. I never tried again. There were many, on top of that.

There was someone, today. A young man, of about 30, sitting in the courtyard, frozen to death, smoking a cigarette in bluejeans and a bordeau pullover. It is thus possible to get out to the courtyard. Although I don’t know if I’d dare. I just have a pullover and a leather jacket that resist temperatures of about 25°, but not less. I wouldn’t like to look like the guy. The poor. Here you can smoke where the coffee machine is, and only. Luckily I’m alone. There must be little women to look as criminal as I do. But there must be more men. They must be the other side of the courtyard. Perhaps he was fed up with too many of them. It happens. He looked up to where I was (I and spying around) and he really looked very sad. But it may have been the cold.

I know now how I’m going to get out of here. Concepts won’t help. Your enemy is always your best friend, because you don’t have to trust him. It took 5 days in order to develop such strategy and parrots help. In fact it is relatively easy, I should have thought of it before. But it is, too, that I have to think of other things at the same time. Like, what to do after. The street isn’t very confortable and here it is warm. Cheap, on top of that. But if I manage to get rid of half of the problem by putting it on Sask’s shoulders, I’ll have the time to try solving the other one by myself.

It’s an evidence and a question of simple psychology that she would leave me free even now, infringing national and international laws and putting my life in danger of death. Kind, forgets the door open and run away. It’s obvious. It was a very low stroke and that weakens defenses. But it won’t help – it wasn’t the purpose, on the other hand. Where am I going to go now with all these accusations registered everywhere and on top, being a fugitif. I hate illegal situations. No. I have to do something in order to make her do my job. It’s easy. Bad consciousness induced after having had such criminal intentions that may have cost her her career, on top. What? Are you going to loose your job just because a wicked psychopath is assimilating criminal behaviour to social behaviour? Such a weakness. Gonna loose a war if you go on like that.

There is a story like that of the second world war. German were arriving to the Greek borders but the motorized section had gone stuck somwhere. The valley which allows to pass from Bulgaria to Greece is very narrow. German soldiers were ordered to continue without support, in lines, one after the other. The Greek general would not be able to shoot them all down as they were arriving and capitulated. See? It may have consequences.

Now. How. I have to launch a seduction strategy. A weird one. It should allow to keep enough motivation in order to have my job be done and without further implications that may put my whole strategy in danger. Look. The concept of the ‘prison’ is amphibious. Half a hospital and half a prison. If I enter the concept of the place, I must be have a woman, half a man. If I determine my body as woman’s, and my soul as man’s, I can fall in love with a man’s soul, I may hypothetically situate in Sask’s environment. A man’s soul is spatial related and body related (so low), the induction will have as consequence that a man’s soul assimilates herself to a man’s body, who falls in love with a woman’s body, myself. From that point of view it is still legal, but in proper realization, it is forbidden. I mean you can be tolerant if you want, but erotical interaction between officers and prisoners is out of law. Thus, she’ll have to repress, while I look out of the window. Repressed means not make disappear. Thus. She’ll have to concentrate her attention on something that may at the same time keep some feeling alife. A good excuse. “I need to start some investigation concerning the exact nature of the danger implied by the subject and to establish the authenticity of some facts as there may be suspicion, there were a net of international terrorists behind.” For sure, she has it. She’s quite respected, it seems, all those guards do almost fall to her feet whenever she passes by. You should always profit of all circumstances.

There we are. Perhaps she can translate my peculiar conceptual world into a more common one. In any case, I have to catch her attention first. International terrorism is always attractive for those minds and even if it may all be lies, it will certainly distract her from the bitter feeling of a horrible defeat. It’s an evidence. Now she’s sure that for the first time in her life she has  fallen into someone’s trap. Mine. For the time being she suspects it is the German, which makes her furious and this, you should profit of, too. Certainly it is German who have sent in a synthesized copy of my work of art, along with the long list of accusations. It’d make her furious and they’d get rid of the prison expenses. They’re like that. That was because of the glassmaker daughter who went furious just because she thought children were similar to rats in concept and neurological functioning.

For the time being she certainly does not suspect that I induced such a thing alleging costs as the danger was increasing every day, and I certainly don’t trust them. She’s furious with German. I’m not going to run away, patiently waiting for all my accusations to be cleared up (three years, at least, seen the amount), which means hundreds and hundreds of shekels (new ones). Not that they spend a lot in food but heating must be expensive.

Innocently, as usual, I’m going to start some contemplations on right and politics that will lead to one point or another affecting international terrorism. I’ve to work it out, but the plan should work.

Texts left in the computer


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