October 21, 2008

8. Choosing Life

A fortnight ago I had a dream that still amazes me with its solemn clarity and propheticity. Despite the fact I rarely remember the dreams I have dreamt, this one caught my attention greatly.

It was an exquisitely colourful autumn. Thick layers of maple leaves were covering soiled paths, which disappeared into the bustle of nature's carnivale. Although the park warden had carried out his tasks with extreme care, the rain had managed to bring all his work into naught. Hence, what I could see while sitting a bit qualmishly on an old hardwood bench was a fastly devilising poetry.

Someone had strongly advised me to be there, in the ancient park of the Talkhof castle. Regardless of that, when I tried to rack up my strength in order to remind myself why and how I had got there, I perceived an image of a seven-year-old boy who had been sent, against his own will, to a soulless theatre hall to experience something extraordinary for the first time in his life. All I heard were leaves quaking in the rain and the Pedja river gurgling behind me. It was a murky, hazy night. Only a lonely lantern emitted light from the distance.

Franz Bieberkopf had just been released from Tegel.

Suddenly I saw an old man slowly yet earnestly coming along the wide path that branched off right in front of me. Had it been an ordinary situation, I would have thought he's just a pauper reaching out for noble generosity. But something deep inside me kept saying, "The show is beginning! The show is beginning!", which is why I knew since his emergence that his existence was the only reason why I was out there in the dark. Old man's face was extremely pale, untouched by his white wiry hairs. First I thought his crooked back and frontward aslant head were signs of a long necessitous life. However, the nearer he came, the more I realised that his stance was mainly influenced by something intentional. The fact that he didn't seem to notice me ogling at him at all caused uncertainty and suspicion in me, so that my glance was even more strongly nailed at him. Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I knew precisely who the old man was.

The silverwhite moon revealed itself for the first time that night.

The surroundings had slowly fallen apart for me. I felt nothing. I thought of nothing. I perceived nothing but the old man who had already passed me by and was slowly hovering away. Suddenly I felt a flame burst in my stomach, and I knew I had to do something. A fraction of a second later I heard myself desperately crying out for him, "Look at me! I said, look at me!" I had stood up, my forehead was watery - it had begun raining again. But the old man continued his walk just as he had appeared, leaving me behind into the wilderness of solitude.

October 18, 2008

7. Inimsuse hävinematu traagika

...inimene on maailma loodud üksildasena.. ta on oma eksistentsi algul üksi, oehh... ta on terve oma elu üksi, lõpuks sureb ka üksi. vaibuv tuuleiil laugja luite kohal... mida on ka üks.. vaid.~
et in arcadia ego

...inimene on oma üksildusest kogu aeg teadlik... ta loob suhteid, et üksildust ületada... bussijaamas tolgendab kari räuskavaid noori.. kui ta vaatab end...tõesti vaatab... korralikult.. justkui kõrvalseisja... grupis, sootsiumis... jüri liventaal... ühiskonnas, siis teab ta, et see on võimsaim võimalik enesepettus... teda haarab seejärel hoomamatu kurbus.. sest ta teab... ei, tunnetab... olles justkui teises maailmas... et ta on üksi... ja et üksildusest üle saada pole võimalik... et eksistents on looja suurim intriig-.. midagi, millel pole mingit pistmist eluga ...

:igasugune suhe on võlts, vale, eksistentsi madaldav.. mida lähedasem ja intensiivsem suhe on, seda selgem, et täielikku mõistmist ei ole.. et võib küll ehitada sildu kahe kalda vahele... eufrat ja tigris... aga see ei muuda neid kaldaid veel üheks... et inimsused ei saa ühineda... et inimesel ei ole doktorikraadi suhetes... ja et seda kraadi jagab vaid lahke mefisto...
tee jõuluvanale pai...

...mõistmatus tekitab nukrust as well as meelepaha..~ mõistmatus... sallimatus... vihkamine.. sõjad... paratamatus:... üksmeelne utoopia... võimatu...

:üksildust peab kogema ...mitte mõistuse ja sõnadega... vaid tunnetama... kes ei ole tundnud end üksi, ei ole inimene... kes ei ole lugenud beckettit, ei tea, mis on elu... mees, kes ei ole keppinud teist meest, on naine...

...kogu tsivilisatsioon põhineb inimsuse eitamisel... kogu kultuur toetub kollektiivsusele...pigem väljasuunatusele... orientiiriks midagi näilist....
püüame küll arvestada teistega.
vaatleme oma käitumist kooskonna kontekstis...
aga kõik see on kuskilt tuletatud... nagu siinus alfagamma ja ruutjuur miinus neliteist...
kunst püüab meid küll panna tunnetama oma eksistentsi... aga kunst ise on so elu.. nii on see vahendatud tunnetus.. seega midagi sekundaarset...
inimsust tuleb tunnetada alasti tühjas valgete seintega ruumis... mida kiigutab nööriga ... kui tikutopsi... 4-aastane renee.. ehhee

... kui elu ja surm on vastandid, nagu me oleme harjunud mõtlema... derrida, binaarsed opositsioonid... dekonstrueerime rõõmsalt... siis mis on valgus teisel pool tunnelit?...

üksildusetunde puudumine, ma pakun... täielik harmoonia looduga... täielik sulandumine, individuaalsuse kaotamine... polegi siis meil, ligastel rottidel, vist võimalik trumlist välja pääseda.... ajalugu kulgeb mööda korduvalt läbikäidud tsükleid...uuesti ja uuesti... aatomid... menstruatsioonivoolused:... maikuu ja eurovisiooni lauluvõistlus... mingit progressi ei ole... säh teile, valgustajad..

...ergo, inimese surm on täiuslikum kui tema närune eksistents
kui tahame end täiustada, siis peame surema
:surm annab eksistentsile mõtte...
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