You only use reason as an anesthetic. [[Life is]] // [[Is life]] the perennial promise of understanding your submerged world.
Now that there are computers for almost every type of search for intellectual solutions - you therefore turn back to your rich interior nothing. And you scream: [[I feel]], [[I suffer->working]], [[I am happy]], [[I am moved]]. Only your enigma interests me. More than anything, you search for yourself in your own great void.
You try to keep yourself isolated from the agony of depending on others, and that agony that seems to the others a game of life and death masks [[another reality]] - a truth so extraordinary that they would keel over in fright were they to face it, as in a scandal. Meanwhile, they’re [[studying]], [[working]], [[loving]], [[growing up->told me]], [[struggling]], [[feeling happy]], [[feeling sad]]. Life with a capital letter can give you nothing because (you are going to confess) that you too must have turned down a [[dead-end alley]] just like the others. For you notice in yourself, not a [[pile of facts->decompression sickness]], and instead strive almost tragically to be.
Trying to possess you is like trying desperately to [[grab hold of the reflection of rose in the mirror->another reality]]. Yet all I had to do was turn away from the mirror and I would [[have the rose itself->Keep it moving]]. I would finally have you. But then there enters a chilly fear of owning the strange and delicate reality of a flower.
He cherishes breeze-blown pollen that touched your fragile body.
As he softly plays his flute, he calls for you by blending your name seamlessly with the sweet melodies.
He prepares a bed of tender leaves for you and anxiously eyes your path of arrival.
[[Remove those dissonant anklets->studying]], the enemies of love play in the evening.
[[Leave your noisy anklets!->another reality]] They clang like traitors in love play.
Go to the darkened thicket, friend! Hide in a cloak of night!
Radha, your gift of delight is like treasure in a bed of vines.
You experience the different phases of a fact or a thought but in the deepest part of yourself it’s extrasituational
even deeper and more unreachably [[you exist without words->Die]]
You are unsayable, incommunicable, inexorable
[[Atmosphere->dry]]. Free of scientific and philosophical rubbish.
Your life is a distorted reflection just as the reflection of a face is distorted in an undulating and unstable lake. Trembling imprecision. Like what happens to water when you dip your hand in it. Your receptivity is tuned ceaselessly registering other people’s conceptions, reflecting in your mirror the subtle shades of distinctions between the things of life. You who are the result of the true miracle of the instincts. You are a swampy terrain. In [[you is born]] a wet moss covering slippery rocks. A swamp with its suffocating [[intolerably sweet miasmas->I am happy]]. A bubbling swamp.
Where am I? You wondered.
And the one who answered you was a stranger, who [[told me]] coldly and categorically: you are yourself. Slowly, as you stopped looking for myself you ended up distracted and without purpose.
You are good at theorizing.
You, who [[empirically live->dry]]. You [[dialogue with yourself->you is born]]. You are dialoging with yourself?
You expose something and wonder what was exposed, you expose something to yourself and then refute it.
You pose questions to an invisible audience and they spur you on with their replies.
When you look at yourself from the outside in, you are the bark of a tree and not the tree. You didn’t feel pleasure at that moment. As you recall it. After you recovered contact with yourself you impregnate yourself. When you auto sexualize you run the risk of pregnancy. The result was the agitated birth of [[a pleasure completely different from what they usually call pleasure.->feeling happy]]
What charms me about you is your elusiveness.
[[When I see you it feels as if I have known you since forever. ]]
[[Who the fuck are you->I feel]]
It’s a question of survival like eating human flesh when there’s no other food. You struggle not against people who buy and sell apartments and cars and try to get married and have children but you struggle with [[extreme anxiety->cannot say]] for a [[novelty of spirit->guesses]]. Whenever you feel almost a little illuminated you see that you are having a novelty of spirit.
[Phase permeations]:
THE LIVE:
[[WONDERMENT->I am happy]]
[[HOPE->working]]
RESOLVE?
[Phase permeations]:
THE DIVE:
[[APPREHENSION->struggling]]
[[DANGER->wet]]
RESOLVE?
Fuck You stay away i hate you
You taught me this: In order to know something, I have to experience something first. In order to [[love->loving]] something, I have to [[act->struggling]] towards it in some way.
(But where are we?)
[[wet]]
[[dry]]
Taravana is a disease often found among Polynesian island natives who habitually dive deep without breathing apparatus many times in close succession, usually for food or pearls.[1][2]These free-divers may make 40 to 60 dives a day, each of 30 or 40 metres (100 to 140 feet).
Taravana seems to be [[decompression sickness]]. The usual symptoms are vertigo, nausea, lethargy, paralysis and death. The word taravana is Tuamotu Polynesian for "to fall crazily".
Taravana is also used to describe someone who is "crazy because of the sea".
And this way people spend their lives together, without being able moreover to say what they expect from one another; for it does not appear to be uniquely the pleasure of the senses that makes them find so much charm in the company of the other. It is obvious that the soul of each desires something else, what it [[cannot say]], but it [[guesses]], and lets you guess.
When you first see the object of your love, you imagine that you’ve seen it long ago. Because all love - like all knowledge - is a remembrance.
It seems to me that I would have to possess the beauty of all people in order to draw out a beauty that is equal to yours. That I should have to [[circumnavigate the whole world->entry]] in order to find the place beside you, that my whole being lacks and yearns for. And at the next moment you are so near to me, filling my spirit so powerfully that I am transfigured. And it feels good to be [[here]].
NOWHERE TO BE
([[Keep it moving]])
([[Die]])
If what matters in a person's existence is to accept the inevitable consciously, to taste the good and bad to the full and to make for oneself a more individual, unaccidental and inward destiny alongside one's external fate, then my life has been neither empty nor worthless. Even if, as it is decreed by the gods, fate has inexorably trod over my external existence as it does with everyone, my inner life has been of my own making . I deserve its [[sweetness->Die]] and [[bitterness->A fiction that serves as an anesthetic.]] and accept full responsibility for it.
FOREVER
([[Summertime->I am happy]])
([[Wintertime->guesses]])
Decompression sickness (DCS; also known as divers' disease, the bends or caisson disease) describes a condition arising from dissolved gases coming out of solution into bubbles inside the body on depressurisation. DCS most commonly refers to a specific type ofunderwater diving hazard but may be experienced in other depressurisation events such as caisson working, flying in unpressurised aircraft, and extra-vehicular activity from spacecraft.
Since bubbles can form in or migrate to any part of the body, DCS can produce many symptoms, and its effects may vary from [[joint pain and rashes->cannot say]] to [[paralysis and death->here]]. Individual susceptibility can vary from day to day, and different individuals under the same conditions may be affected differently or not at all. The classification of types of DCS by its symptoms has evolved since its original description over a hundred years ago.
INTERVIEWER:
Your characters seem to be psychologically alienated from each other and from themselves, and though their isolation may be accentuated by the fact that you’ve set them as foreigners in exotic places, one feels that they’d be no different at home, that their problems are deeper than the matter of locale.
PAUL BOWLES:
Of course. Everyone is isolated from everyone else. The concept of society is like a cushion to protect us from the knowledge of that isolation.
[[A fiction that serves as an anesthetic.]]
[[An anesthetic that serves as a fiction.->Vanity for the living]]
What exactly is the sense of duty or purpose with which you carry out somebody’s dying wish?
[[Vanity for the living]]
[[Honor for the dead->When I see you it feels as if I have known you since forever. ]]
In 1962 Per Scholander discovered that a person need [[submerge only his face in water->Keep it moving]] to activate these life-lengthening (and lifesaving) reflexes, the ‘master switch of life’.
Only water can trigger those reflexes and the water had to be cooler than surrounding air.
It slows down our heart rate so it decreased the use of oxygen
the blood flows away from our limbs and toward the vital organs.
that way we can keep the brain and heart oxygenated longer (thats called peripheral vasoconstriction)
also, the [[deeper you go->decompression sickness]], the blood actually penetrates the cell walls of the organs to counteract the external pressure. so your lungs dont collapse under the water pressure...
“To talk about painting is not only difficult but perhaps pointless too. you can only express in words what [[words->feeling sad]] are capable of expressing, what language can communicate. [[Painting->dead-end alley]] has nothing to do with that. “
- Gerhard Fucking Richter