The divine people live out their passionate lives not far off, as I think, and we shall be among them when we die. May it not even be that death shall unite us to all romance, and that some day we shall fight dragons among blue hills.William Butler Yeats, The Celtic Twilight. A notre mort, nous partirons combattre sur les plaines immortelles de Moy Tura comme les dieux lumineux d'antan.
Saturday, November 17, 2001
Un espoir dans le grand froid?
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My name is James Tyrrel, I am not a virus or a myth, just an ape who once dreamt he was a man.
ReplyDeleteBy now Kokeshi must have guessed who I must be.
Here's my quotation:
"Is thy name Tyrrel?
TYRREL
James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
KING RICHARD III
Art thou, indeed?
TYRREL
Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
KING RICHARD III
Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
TYRREL
Ay, my lord;
But I had rather kill two enemies".
Now I have a story:
A little girl was found dead nearby a gas station, in some empty space full of sickly bushes coverder with plastic bags and of crushed glass from beer bottles.
In fact not all of 6 year-old girl was in the polyethylene bag. Her head was nowhere to be found but forensic didn't care because her DNA matched that of Jenny Fairfield, a young girl from Ohio. How comes they had samples of Jenny's DNA, you may ask me? Jenny like millions of other children is in some fucking federal DNA database since the day she was born - in her case a fragment of umbilical chord was sent to the right agency and immediately analysed: now her identity is a sequence on some fucking obscure hard disk. You can decide not to trust me and say this is rubbish but let me tell you about the real Jenny Fairfield.
Jenny was and still is in perfect health, with no twin sister known - and the people concerned knew she was an only child. As you may know the the human genome allows 70 368 774 177 664 different possibilities of human originality, which doesn't leave much room for coincidence...
Now, all the docs knew was that the girl wasn't Jenny (although she was considered dead by most computer-run systems in the country for months, she even got on some fucking milk bottle). This would have been obvious any inbred racist moron from North Carolina: Jenny was caucasian while the cut-to-pieces one was a chink.
Now this is my question:
Given that the world has no longer any axis or center, would you agree to extend your vision of the world to our own individual flesh? Don't you think that genomic or biometrical definitions, which are objective and reliable, are inexorably turning our smells and our voices into obsolete ideas of ourselves? In other words, don't you think that a self can only be described from the inside, and that we do not suffer from an identity rape, or from external intrusion but from essential extrusion?
I do have a last question:
Have you guessed who the girl in the bag really was? Good.
It reminds of a story I read somewhere about how three people were arrested and then tortured by the CIA because they were identified with three of the 21 terrorists who died in the planes that hit the WTC.
ReplyDeleteWe can be dead in the flesh and still alive in the mind. Or maybe we can be dead in the mind and still alive in the flesh?
Since I have myself no flesh, I can't say for sure.
Hi again.
ReplyDeleteA little quote first:
COLD GENIUS
What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow
From beds of everlasting snow?
See'st thou not how stiff and wondrous old,
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold,
I can scarcely move or draw my breath?
Let me, let me freeze again to death.
You can be cold and still yourself.
Hey dolly, watcha, you sure have no little body to capture but I sure have pictures of you!
Are these e-memories, or are you some kind of serial blogger?
http://suicidegirls.com/girls/Kokeshi/
Your friend Jimmy.
I wish I were her. She seems secure and fierce and everything I'm not.
ReplyDeleteI'm just a little ghost girl with no social life whatsoever.
Now, I come back to your previous posts.
Lovely poem. I like it. Pray tell, honest devoted servant of the king, where di you get it?
Now, on to your thoughts and questions.
Now that the worl lost its axis, I think that everyone is its own axis. You know, Giordano Bruno once wrote that each person is his own center of the world, that he perceives a different world that his neighbor who also perceives a different world than... et ad indefinitum.
I think that it's the bane of our era: we all perceive ourselves as our own center, our navel of the world. The Delphic navel of the world was moved from Greece to New York and then it was lost and we are unable to set our eyes upon it as people once did back in the Golden Age.
In our individuality and selfishness, we are now lost.
Maybe it's for the best?
Yearp,
ReplyDeletelost navels... hence the little story I made up, and the little umbilical chord mentioned.
Pardon me for my insisting once again on our biological dimension: we are wandering navels, but we are also social little creatures, like bees or crabs. Just like a cell has to maintain its boundaries, we must maintain viable selves, little entities in a very aggressive environment. Now the threat has two sides: totalitarianism, and we implode, or dislocation, and we explode, bursting out our guts.
The little cells we are will always do what's best for the specie. That should be the constant.
If you are one of us, you surely would behave that way. That will be my test from now on.
J.
PS: my last quote was H. Purcell in King Arthur.
Lost navels. We are navels of the world since we all see the world from ourn perspective. Now, the 9/11 attacks, by destroying the center, have amplfied this movement to the point that we are almost too dense for our little body-soul to hold. Thus, we lose consistency by refusing this reality and thus are crushed by its new weight (reposing before on the WTC) or take a new density which we cannot hold on too long without being transcended by it and thus becoming fanatics.
ReplyDeleteThe dead of the 9/11 seek to live inside us and we are not able to make up some space for them without explodinjg or losing our individual identity.
Maybe if your umbilical cord was to be tested, its DNA would reveal the identity of a ghost.
Mine would not be possible to test: I am a tube baby, condemned, as I said to wander heedlessly in the Limbo.
Kokeshi, your little puppet who dreamt she was a girl
PS: I knew once a fox who too dreamt she was a girl. In Japanese, we call them Kitsune.
Si nous sommes tous individuellement de petits soleils, si nous sommes notre propre centre, alors il est dit que si tous les centres se connectent nous atteindrons la conscience universelle.
ReplyDeleteLa toile n'en est que l'empreinte terrestre.
Continuons