The following gave rise to the last post. It is an experiment to see what I would sound like if I were insane. This might make sense to no one.
Being second in command of our humble household, I declared a moratorium on Internet use simply to think. Thinking has been hard for a while. I try to avoid it. It doesn’t exactly give me a headache, but it scares me. All kinds of odd sensations run through my body, and with each passing thought pictures and memories inevitably from the past. And as is customary for someone who has gone insane a couple of times in the past 6-year, a pandemonium ensue.
I have been thinking about some instinctive reaction I had to a morning event a couple of days ago for a while now and the reasons why I quickly chose to do the things I did and avoided doing the second thing that came to my mind which I didn’t do and what they symbolized.
And despite the fact that I am not religious, and having grown progressively more disenchanted by them A to Z, it wasn’t the “role of a dice” that popped in my mind so much as the phrase “leap of faith.” I guess that’s why I declared the moratorium to begin with. It presupposed an innate trust one wouldn’t have in an autocracy.
And yes I have a very well read bible too. And I am definitely not a Muslim. But if so many don’t believe the President of these United States, who’s going to believe me? I have been to more Baptist and Catholic churches than Mosques. Who cares really? But I did talk to God once for at least one hour six years ago. We shared a bottle of orange juice, and I persuaded him not to send the quakes. He was angry too. But remained quite emphatic. The forbidden one was a grapefruit. Go figure. I don’t believe him. But I learned afterwards that there is little place on the back of the head responsible for mystic experiences. That’s why a lot of insane people see angels. I saw them cry and speak the verses day after day for three weeks last year.
I didn’t see any angels this time around. But did talk extensively with a rhyming horse from Kentucky—no kidding-- For three weeks. He talked in English in perfect rhythm and wouldn’t shut up. But I have never figured out rhythm. I could do rhymes occasionally. Did you know they still say, according to the Greeks that rhyme is sign of crude poetry. Easy for them to say! Ton Agathon, tous Agathous, hoi Poloi. Not all languages work like that I guess.
But if you want to see the real warning signs of the lurking danger, drop by Tallinn and have a piece of pizzas in downtown. The young server was fluent in many tongues. And me? Can’t even get the English right. But I did wake up once in Paris at 3 when some one in a speeding car yelled out Waaazzzz Uppp! Not kidding. That’s the real danger. More wasted talent on home front.
But traditional families and values must be protected at all cost. Homogeneity in some sense is both essential, necessary and aesthetically appealing in the context of multi-ethnic societies, I think. And if they didn’t feel so (rightly) beleaguered at home without empathy or sympathy, perhaps we wouldn’t be scared of every piss ant Mo and Al. But there has to be tolerance for the fringes that will always intermingle no matter what country they are in. It’s the easiest rebuke to Freud.
Although you must admit, if the question of white socks should pop up the way that it does, times are fundamentally out of joint! And it was traumatizing enough—all the cat and mouse games in Iran. But we’ll get to the socks too.
A fair enough question though! I guess I’ve babbled enough from the very beginning of this blog about the audacity to appear naked in public. And who do you think taught me that? Yes I am sure one particular group which should be quite numerous, I trust, is livid with the ungrateful parasitic snake—defiler of all thing decent. But I’ve always aspired to be ethical in life and am quite a Spartan minus the military knowhow. My expression of anger was more out of affection than animosity. They should have known better. We’ll get to that too.
So yes, the voices quickly settled on the question of the differences between being a citizen of a Republic, or some subject in an Autocracy. And I guess technically I am both. Why then the Brooding Persian? Because I thought the moment someone bothered to figure out the name of the writer on the blog, the message would become loud and clear. And then, of course, it was the chain of transmission that would have been the give away. And the name is in Herodotus in its Greek version. A Great section to read about missed opportunities!
The impulse to protect friends, associates and the loved ones and the innocent from harm or undue embarrassment is important. But there are certain principals that are equally important as well. Freedom of speech, or of association and of assembly without (excessive) surveillance or fear—one hopes for in vain for them these days sadly. But yes. As the Greeks were fond of saying, once the winged words clear the barrier of the teeth, no way of calling them back. You say what you must and deal with the consequences. No deleting or re-writing the past. We do what we must.
That’s why it is important to think before talking I guess. And that’s why, despite my intense loathing for certain religion, I don’t bash it! There is a simple reason. In countries with authoritarian rules, when citizens are so pummeled that they have no respect for the laws, what will be there to temper the baser instincts if you undermine religion too quickly. But after centuries of creative readings, if you create the proper cultural context, I think, the assholes will simply re-interpret. It’s the nature of the game.
But yes this is as good a time as any to stand up for freedom of speech no matter who gets offended. And no, thankfully, I didn’t think sensible adults working in tandem no matter what their personal differences, would intentionally cause a pandemonium against what I perceive to be the stated policy of their superiors. That too presupposed trust. But just in case I was wrong, pending verification, I did cover my own ass with help I trust. Symbolic I guess. But seriously, who would want a headless Barbie? Kind of cute though!
Yes I know, I am mumbling, but it helps to clear my head. I haven’t written in a long time.
Do I feel like a parasite? Yes, absolutely. Am I ashamed? Yes, terribly. Do I think I would call other people a parasite in a civilized society? No! For the simple reason that technically; one has to learn to become one’s own most brutal detractor and be generous to others. And sometimes, sadly, no matter what one does or how hard one tries in life, things just don’t pan out. But there is (sometimes) always a tomorrow. When you get tangled up, you just tango on—my favorite movie line.
But believe you me, as someone who spent the last four years working for a pittance dealing with cockroach infested consoles and having worked shitload of other menial jobs as well as a few good ones and after a couple of universities, pound for pound there is more natural, brilliant talent being wasted than getting trained. I still believe, though, that if you try hard enough it might even out at the end. Not for poor Baxter the horse obviously. But hey, hope –the essential condition of humanity.
I thought when I left, given the circumstances, and the list of the things that I could and could not do (and I guess the applications must still be there from 10 years ago) the best course of action left to me was to do the series of moves that I took. That in a small way was an expression of a measure of my gratitude. And I thought a display of a (relatively) responsible lonely citizen.
I called it exactly as I saw it. That too I learned in Texas. And it broke my heart that they weren’t seeing what by all account should have been clear—so clear in fact that a lone camel jock saw it. Yes, anger was understandable. But really can’t just kill everyone or pretend that the enemy is just simple while simultaneously a whopping threat. Not cool. And on a personal note, that is what society is all about, no? Not everyone is a genius, and not everyone is a small business owner and not everyone has it to become a world-class soldier.
I killed a bird once with a gun years ago and both six years ago, and last year was running for my life from their reincarnated mates out to get me. Honest. Some of these kids will never recover. That’s why I avoid eye contact. Face of trauma! Evil personified. So I’ve retreated without many friends. It hasn’t always been like this.
But we all do what we can. And no there is no chance in hell I could ever become an artist. The world just looks different now due to a sclerosis, that’s all. No delusions of grandeur here.
And yes, the Mongol quip was sort of rude. But the seal was what it was. No shame dying a fool either. Some even live as fools. It can be quite liberating at times. Beside, I liked my own fragment attributed to Franklin a lot better that hers. But as we must know by now, it was also a complement.
And why the movies? I got shot in the nose once and was attacked in North Africa by a sword-wielding thug. And obviously there are all other mental conditions that have quite a number of nerve endings going haywire. I feel a number of sensations in my guts somewhere between anxiety, fear, and eros. And a few other novel sensations elsewhere. I don’t drink much. And the pills are toxic and there is only one other kind left and I’ve got the hives to show for it. But the movies help.
Why the particular genres? My favorite is for obvious reason, of course. A part is insanity I suppose. But I think a bit of reversal is called for judging by all the other abusive stuff I don’t have stomach for. A multi ethic cast of men should take one for the team for the next few years in more ways than one. Call it chivalry beyond opening a simple door if you must. Just my opinion!. Especially in a few other parts of the world I know. And every once in a while, I have to check to see if I haven’t switched teams. I have never been sure of much of anything in life.
And the socks again! One part is now simply routine Persian pigheadedness. If you pathologize and generalize, and don’t go away without actually coming in after politely knocking first, then expect the returned favor and an additional pinkie as chaser. It is as American as apple pie. That too I learned in Texas. Well sort of. My father was a hell of soldier. There must be a file on him too somewhere. So, Live by the rules you preach. And I drove the mullahs mad too with this habit. But they left me alone.
But seriously, look, it was the same principle with two, three posts that were intended as an appeal to decency shot in anger as politely as possible. Anyone who has read books in other’s traditions can do a number on them. But do we really want to live in a world with everyone at everyone else’s throats with superficialities. I am open to all discussions about race, gender, cultural superiority, inferiority,--any and all things but it can be done better. And I don’t have any problem being the inferior. So speak as freely as you must.
But keep an eye on China. Their texts looked very superficial but deceptively so.
And yes another part is definitely me and the associations with getting shot. But in certain ones, there is an unbridled passion unrivaled even by the Brazilians. The French in my opinion get the opposite done right. Don’t get me started with the German and the Russians or the Italians. And yes and no about the race aspect of it! It is getting out of hand and silly and formulaic. But the older ones, something about them that I just don’t understand but feel. It is authentic. And again the few authentic ones in reverse are absolutely delightful but unfortunately rare. The recent cantankerous southern belle one was a blast. More please. People are getting too uptight and suffocated and suffocating and the atmosphere is getting explosive.
Think of a good genre as intermediate step between no aesthetic judgment and Art if ruffled feathers need to be set back in place.
Does anyone really understand, though, why one gets to relax in some ways and not others? And from what I ‘ve gathered it is a universal pastime everywhere anyways and is supposed to be a private matter in a true Republic last I heard. This too I learned here. And last, but no least, being lost, sick, dejected and out of it for now are big factors.
For the record, I still don’t believe in conspiracies. If two people breath together, three people will figure it out. But, what do I know, I only understand simple straightforward English.