SCENE8
The arbiter?
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Sletch11
Scene 1
He did abandon me yes, and I thought I did too(2) because telling Sybil or Sophia (influence Olke Dan a gnostic aunt) that he would follow her and her boy(me-know) you know, free his illness abated. I loved him in spite, and way beyond, no me no! That I did not yet know about a bubbly bright boy-subjective connection ready in the making to pop; him being ‘nyilas’ a hung aryan equivolant to the ss , was a factor of his morally insane, self asserted qualification toward what what Mr. Szas asserted.
The connection between Laing and Szas fascinates , thus the knots proximity to the politics of experience.
If it was possible to resurrect him by a magical plea to miraculous methods, then I would really tell him of the great misnomer he was living under, but it’s not too late because I believe of his presence, yet unseen, but feel it in my innards .
I did not know anything, just like the Japanese man conveying a very similar message to the French girl that ,”you don’t know anything of Hiroshima, as I know next to nothing of Neverse”
Thus me know nothing, but what I have expressly experienced through a neo-political justification.
‘Shade’ . es ist ganz forgotten’
Virtually all has been blanked, because it’s contension being virtually unsubstantial.
When I visited him over several years, I was not even at par with him on the ‘De Anima’ though I informed him of my love for philosophy.
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meno age 12, was asked by his mom, a self described ‘outsider’ if we should leave in 1956, and answered in the affirmative, not even giving a though if father would recover from his ‘discus hernia’ , but that was not to be the case, because he settled to live with a 16 year old Gypsy girl, rather then haunt the Budapest park’s ample toilets for tricks. No I loved him beyond description , sorrily after his death of our shared interest’s but then it is now what it is, or could have been an opportune moment.
Had I been able to overcome the distress of a re/doubling of the compressive melange of fact from apprehension, then things may have proven to work out differently.
So to compare a men and boys according to a mixed heritage’s effect, the trifogurative sum changes dramatically in comparison to the law of averages. Therefore reaching their expected potentialities who had their primary education successfully integrated with secondary conditions had been able to freely distangpe them and refocus on more substantial things. The untangling of knots is no mean struggle , as long as that integration is under the belt.
No wonder the new left had trouble with convincingly puting their ideas across the board, and thus condemn themselves to premature failure!
The experiences depicted are almost entirely equal to those described above, with the exception of mom and I not taking the Zagreb-Fiume-Austrian route, but tried the Budapest-Szombathely-Linz route, failing first, to reach the border river , that eventually, the 2cond time had to be swam through, as the late December weather duly froze the garments we wore.mom got pneumonia, so upon reaching the ‘lager’ in Linz, she was ill most of the time.
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Sketch11
The author of the ‘Painted Burd’ and ‘Being There’ when asked by his barber why he avoids looking himself in the mirror( his name has been forgotten) wrongly answered”because I know what’s already there - a projection of his thoughtful image) in stead he was really uncertain of it’s intro-jective variant as to fear what The Other’s saw there,
That opinion is based on how his demise simulated the revenge on narcissus by echo.
In fact his insecurity needs no imagination to describe as guilty, if found to have violated copyrights. History speaks volumes. To deny historical inviolability, we just need to glean around to find vacated precedents as reconstructed facts accumulate within the packed Supreme Ciurt it’self.
Here is one of the first narratives written of my son Christopher, two years after he committed suicide:(out of sequence of any order, just a look back
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ive Forums
Creative Writing
0belafekete0
May 2012
The therapist looked at him with a pad in front of him. He asked him the usual questions, and took neat, crisp notes. “Who referred you”, he asked. He looked young, and sported a neat haircut. His office window which had a panoramic , sweeping. View of the San Fernando valley, was very preemptive of his high level expectation of easing his concerns and sense of guilt. He told him he was an ex-priest from Ireland. After the session, which ended badly, because he just couldn’t talk about it, he told him he will come back in a week, and perhaps be able to release what he saw at the time as an insurmountable difficult subject. Needless to say, on the bus, having lost his license to drive,he was also aware of his train of thought going into different directions, always coming back to the same knot-what went wrong. He went over in his mind the things that were off with him, and perhaps he wasn’t there for him when he really needed him. In his short story , which he left behind, he referred to himself by his father’s name “billy” and at times confused the two, as though he wanted to make a deliberate attempt to mix characters. Henry Miller in his Big Sur and the Oranges of. …bosch, anecdotes a scene in his life, where he took up painting late in his life, and started to paint a scene, which he kept re-touching. It before it dried, and it ended up a smudge. Billy was such a mix, and he searched frantically to try to see himself apart from his son,so that clearly he could think where his responsibility failed. The fact that he was in Catholic boarding school up until college and then went on to the Catholic University, didn’t help clarify things between them either, as a consequence, their separation anxiety remained, they were unable to work out the issues between them except in absentia, and the few times they did get together on special occasions, was taken up by social and family events. This was true for both, him and his father, because both had absentee fathers, one because of the seminary, and the other simply took the easy way out, left and remarried. For both, their children remained babies in a sense , and this vacuum was wrongly interpreted and never really dissolved into their manhood. There were fore warnings: the time in Vegas when he found him barely 2 years old, somehow the toilet leaked, and somehow he crawled off the bed, and the water was almost up to his little face, which he tried hard to keep above water, he felt something and rightly so, getting there just in time to save his little life, ----even though they made sure he was secured by pillows all around him.he stopped thinking about him for a moment. Preparations were under way for Istarra and her finance to have a party at their new apartment, and even though their wedding plans were all set, there was doubts about the whole thing. Marco, Istarras’’ fiancé had begun to live together 6 months ago, and the first time they fought was about money. They were supposed to have a get together in their new apartment in a few days, but he thought Marco and his family were a blank,b and Marco took advantage by the horns, and he felt, ingratiated himself not too subtly , looking out for evidence of power struggle, and areas where Achilles heels were evident to take advantage of. Wanting to give him the benefit of doubt, he pout that down to his youth, he was 25, just like Istarra, and working in a mediocre job for his father. At any rate , all was in a very delicate balance, and he was going to see to it that things will work out. His PSA test rose 2ng’s and his doctor told him to go to a urologist. He said nothing to worry about, but the chance of cancer, was around 25 percent. He’ll do a biopsy, and then we ca tell more what’s going on, the doctor said trying to give the impression of assurance. The bus ride was exceedingly long. He dreamed of being in a train last night and the train was traveling very fast, and the car was overcrowded. Some got off at the stop. Well, someone impatiently yelled–move this train along. Were stifling from the heat. The bus finally came to a stop. He got off. He wanted to do something different this summer. The social worker he called said he will have to make decisions . Things are coming to a head. One thing he really wanted to do, since he retired, was to go back to the old country. His return, was always to be, but never materialized" the last time, landing in Budapest, his own father waiting at the airport, was comforting, it reassured him of a sense of timelessness, of getting in touch with change less things such as the place where he grew up: 5 th district, right by the danube, with a view of the mountains. He remembered the very earliest beginnings, and somehow going back, he felt as if though he never left: sights, sounds, smells of the old neighborhood were unchanged, only he couldn’t see anyone he knew , except his father.----things were very paternalistic and this was a time forgotten except by him. He missed the sense of security he got from his father* but looking back it was wrong, because he realized, it gave him a false sense of security down the line. …his father was minor aristocracy, a baronet with a small land grant given to his great grandfather. He always used that title, only a short time did he hide it, when the new communist regime started deportations and relocations of the major aristocracy; but it was to be gathered that he had a tendency to overvalued the degree of the danger of his position. The neighbors were important and they were never seen again. Then came the revolution, and they left crossing the border illegally…he always wanted to go back after his father died. Just to see his remains which were entombed in a church sepulcher. He knew that if his test for cancer came back positive, he will have to go… to keep the promise that he made for himself. But it was not time yet. There was always something to do.his wife started a new business. The last one having turned out to be a dismal failure, he was determined not to do the same mistakes. But the mistakes were many. One was getting Marco involved. Marco supposedly “loved” Istarra, but what part of that was opportunism? Nobody could tell at this point.again, a wait and see attitude was taken, not to rush things, is the best way to go…istarra herself, having lived in the Philippines the last 5 years, riding a wave of hope in her attempts at breaking into TV there, came home after her chances were crushed by an agent who raped her then stole her money. Istarra made headlines all through Asia when being a member of PETA she clothed herself in nothing but lettuce paraded with three other girls in front of the Manila cathedral. Now she is with Armin, her hopes dashed, and trying to visualize herself with him as her life’s partner. But dear reader, I’m getting away from Chris, chris, who --broke our hearts, and our souls found him. Yes. The ex-priest looked at me. There was no sign of anything showing in his eyes.---- I told him about the fear in his eyes, when night fell, he heard the footsteps of the priests, and then the forced acts upon him, the suicide of his best friend and confessor, who was his surfing body—and Father, Istarra made me promise her–that - would publish his short story, “but my son who would be interested…” A promise is a promise, I cut him off, its sort of therapy for me, I have no allusions anymore. Let me tell You father, yes one time I did have aspirations. I even wondered about what kind of a father I would make. After Hungary and. Degree in philosophy I drifted. Drifted with my bohemian mom, to california. Trying to put my identity together , the bits and pieces,…too many bits and pieces, drifting, trying various things…what are you getting at? Just trying to make sense that’s all. —well you hit. It on the head, making sense is primary. Your going about this in reverse. Yes father I’m trying to make sense exactly. That’s why I’m here , talking with you…its killing me…He could have been anybody’s little boy. he…Your not trying to shift all responsibility unto the church, my son, are You? —well no, father, its just that , I too, want to go to heaven and be at the right hand of the father…I want to see my son again. I want others to see my loneliness, my misery, and feel belong. —Father, once that happens, I will not be alone. Besides everything is coming to a head. The doc says I may have cancer,I am not afraid to die if I knew I went to heaven instead of the other place. I need reassurance and guidance. The priest looked through his horned rimmed glasses with his steel blue eyes. Do you want to confess my son? —the room veered round and round, and he had to catch himself from falling down. He gripped the in a desperate attempt to keep from falling down. Tell me about chris: well, he wrote a short story. you tell me about it? I thought it was late in the day and asked him if I collect my thoughts told him I felt it was not right, I’d have to take a look at his story and try to make sense of it, as I’m still trying to make sense of mine. I will come back next week redemption through your help.
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What’s with Orban?
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Scene1
Can only paint a general picture here, the irony appears to be here that, under the cover of the motto: ‘Nationalism’ a lot of dynamic construction-reconstruction is passed up.
(((Just in: Russian troops entered a US base in Niger, amid rising tensions)))
Nationalism, NWO, global political developments divide the substance, of what’s left of some intensive effort to heal wounds, ……
It appears, that the socially identifiable sources of division are playing havoc with the national/international balance of power, that is, uncertainty, through the mixture of the game of guessing intentions on part of the authorities’ key movers ; compressed to singular levels of apprehension, are facing critical modes , where their own personal confidence of their safety are beginning to glare their vicious teeth through
Orban’s nationalism is a recurrent pattern of reacting to the changing dynamics of retention of hard pressed patterns of status quo, whose perimeters , loosely hang around them to cover of what is in it’self an intractable almost a ‘covenant’
The religious and politically mixed melange of ultra nationalism weighs over the thinly disguised opportunism inherent in the pseudo pragmatism that covers social welfare , but as declines of value suppress more and more of these intangible and far flung plans, the more transparency is revealed of the ominous failures of long term planning.
The notorious communist 5 year plans failure, has for a short time blocked it’s inadequate conception of it’s ideological counterpart held against capital, vis: ‘diminishing returns’
Here it becomes ominous and threatening as much as , say fear accruing between the ‘bright boy’ and the fallacious claim that he may not sink to a lower level, as merely another opinionated wish fulfillment based on purely subjective representations.
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Scene2
ORBAN-NATIONALISM (urbanization)
Within the narrowing loops that models of representation knots will tighten, compressing both the time of linkage/and the illusion of holding spatial configurations at bay; but that is another covered fallacy to grapple with, as quantum equivalents tend to contradict that idea.
Sub atomic particles act with a strangeness, which can by a long leap of imagination be used by a covering metaphor, as bounderies overlay between heretofore uncharted mapping.
Look up the quantum equivalent of knotting, for instance, how do these terms not arise, but with references to a long expected precision detailed objective? ( tangling)
(Look up) the act of searching for supernatural meanings from a compressed hypothetical position, seeks not to dispose, but put things into an ordered repose, where finally a peace can arrive Objective can duly be verified.
But, the irony of a rising nationalism with Orban seems to be based less in any kind of structural validation, but the fallacy of returning to modes of representation which become modular, a repetitive arrangement tat has again been imprinted from sought after original models, return eternal into the very structural hilerarchy that has been shown to have had precedent, and on that note beware those who can not learn the lessons of history for you are condemned to repeat them…
Or something along those lines
The irony goes way back when poor Socrates tried to show that the complexity of his argument needed a quic fixed demonstration, may not work back then, as it’ de Anima is unlikely to work at the present TURN(Heidegger) of events.
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“How could the above conceivable regard this:
“ A new one I just noticed:
Blindness Fallacy: when you fail to see or appreciate the meaning, significance and/or truth of something because of your own blindness and then you project that lack of meaning/significance/truth onto the other person or onto the thing itself.”
HumAnize
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Well how can it fail to be seen? When it’s a centerpiece between competing fallacious assumptions such as so inadequately cited above? (by me)
Sure it’s easy to miss because it’ resting on a slippery slope like a loungin catnapping on a hot tin roof. Yes this is why a sketch is merely a scratch and not a catch. ( or tryin’)
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You are a scary cat!
Me? You mean that?
I am supposed to travel to Hungary this middle August, do you think a half bred idiot is not reluctant? Where most non intell acted judge more by appearances then anything other than?
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Sorry do no mean , to scare you , and will try to bring back the castle district video which was lost when I started to paste some others.
I still don’t know what “that” is.
Ok then, but what’s that, that is?
What?
*than
js
Then……yes, other than …. the other!
But then the other is, what is not this and this is none other
than…
but then …it also could be other then that what’s expected, even if what’s excepected turns out not to be - that exceptional
But if it is, exceptional as expected to be, other things may not be, and that could upset the … what?
The apple cart
and call me naive but how does one bad apple come into play in such a scenario ?
[quote=“Ichthus77 (formerly She™), post:72, topic:80069, full:true, username:Ichthus77”]
I still don’t know what “that” is.
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I dunno
…that’s why ‘suppose meno as meno_ and meno2 now 4 got to be another, so no worries, and being his slave to boot doesent help matters,
I wonder, though,
I’ll keep it simple
I wish after all to say something other then this at this point, because it seems to have a mind of its own, no idea where it comes from or where it goes , but have an inkling that it must be heard, maybe that is That.
Or, maybe something else
I am really letting it set the direction, the tone and everything, until it makes its presence.
other *than
just saying
There will come a time when it won’t be like now, when all things seem to have come to this point , or near , as all inclusive.
That’s scary!
But only a single point, amping a pointillistic landscape.
We are all ways living it without realizing it./IT.