phatic communication Alchemy
Yesterday I wrote a great post. I looked beautiful. I cried a lot while writing it and reread it several times, correcting details here and there. It took me two hours to write, right and proper time because yesterday I did not stop work on the chapter. But as she put the last points and commas, I wondered if I could publish. They just transcribe the "introduction" (which is rather the result) to understand what it was all about and why they save the details:
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
How Long Do You Have To Do Meth To Ugly
"What follows is a wonderful revelation that I had. My father Fernando, the word cubicle, my processes Transfer to Lobito and Valerio, and the source of agony for the departure of Daniel. All are Dad. I went down to the ninth circle of hell (here only narrated, is not the journey but the comedy) and finally glimpse paradise. There's my dad triplex per similitudines, my impossible Beatriz eternal and timeless, while men with whom I associate in quotidie et concurrent life have returned to their rightful place. "
Then I went to sleep. After an interlude in my dream that at 4:00 am Kualia began to jump up in my pursuit of a mosquito (of course, or hunted or scared, because then I could sleep very well) I had the following dream:
was going to be a big fight something like box. To my brother likes it a lot because once practiced in the UNAM and then the fans in my family. But in the dream fight was epic paints a world cup final where they play the Mexican national team, or something. My dad came for us to take us to a place to watch the fight. When we arrived it was no longer a boxing match, but a kind of fight a Japanese sport, like a Sumo Dojo or something.
estutas Inside was beautiful jade dragons, flags embroidered red on white with large signs in Chinese (well, my dream had geographic conflicts), and it was very beautiful. We came. But then I was not going with my dad but with Miguel (yes, my Archangel of whom I have spoken).
Then I realized that my glasses had gone wrong: my glasses so I like red, and felt very sad. While latching to fix (it was in the hope that although they were of pasta, could re-straighten) the hostess of that event led us to a room where about ten people sitting watching a small TV screen. Miguel told me that was where we would not fight, but We were hoping to give the four o'clock, the time at which it would in Japan.
(Here I remember when I met Michael, he practiced Kung-Fu)
I sat in a chair, and suddenly I could fix my glasses, I discovered they had a mechanism to bend the legs and that he had not twisted but had doubled following such a mechanism (like a three-dimensional puzzle.) Then I felt a great joy and I finally put my glasses (keep in mind that I have 4 diopters: For me, losing the lens is truly a tragedy, I am unable to do anything without them.)
then discovered that between the services offered by that place, was a kind of Japanese Spa and you could go have a kind of sauna "Japanese." And this is what I imagined my dream was a huge room very high walls, covered with wood. In the middle were several tables "? How can we call? were a kind of sinks, also of wood, where people sit or lie down to enjoy the steam sauna. Although the walls were empty there was something that was very beautiful, but could not explain why: there were no pictures, no pictures or designs. It was the pure wood (dark brown) and that made them very beautiful. There were some ferns and in each corner (he had great walls and there were lots of corners) had containers with hot stones where the steam out.
Then an old man approached me that my clothes were not appropriate, and fixed me wearing white shorts with black lettering, and the vapor became transparent. I was very embarrassed and explained that I did not realize that humidity may cause this effect. I did not know what to do. But then another old man came and gave me a pairing espeice. It was semi transparent pink but with the same reasons black (letters) of my shorts. And it seemed that happened was the part that was missing from my outfit. I put him and I laid in my pool. They went and I had the feeling that everything was back in order and that made me feel very calm and joy.
finally left the sauna, and Michael was waiting. I saw it and I approached him. Then people began to fire, we should be left to wait for the event.
One of those approached was Daniel. He came with his "girlfriend" (but it was not one defined) and Miguel and I greeted. Michael was at the center of attention there. All came to greet him and were very pleased to have been able to do. At the end, Daniel saw his arm waving far and saying to Michael, "Dutch goodbye!". And Miguel, a certain little smile that I know, it was for the greeting.
awoke. The first thing I asked is why he had told Dutch? The only thing that came to mind was that 'Dutch' had something mysterious and orange. As if that will recognize a sort of a sailor ... sailor, rather traveler, as the Dutch.
Anyway. That dream. And I remembered that I had promised a post for today. But he could not publish one year psychoanalytic Simonini general similar to the "Cemetery Prag to." Simonini has forgotten who he is, or rather has sparked a day of discovering that you have a alternate personality that he remembers nothing, but has evidence that is himself. Decides to write his memoirs (in the literal sense and meaning of literary genre) to see if they discover the mystery.
I've forgotten who I am. I see all my personalities wander in front of me, care for their tasks, and I know that they are me, but I find the connection between them and me. Yesterday I have discovered something. Something not only concerning my many personalities and characters of my life, but also something about the thesis. Many things: some like what made me finally Searle relate to Priscian via Nuchelmans: there is something in the De homine. And others, more the product of the excitement of last night, but that still does not sound too absurd, and that I share:
"It took me hour and a half writing this. When I finished, I went out for cigarettes, a milkiway, a can of Coke and an Arizona-te. While on his way to the Oxxo I dropped a twenty bastard. What Albert does with Aristotle, Avicenna, Averroes, al-Farabi (or pseudoAlfarabí), Al-Ghazali, Priscian, Hilary of Poitiers, Costa ben Luca, Gregorio pseudo Nicene (Nemesio of Emesa), Damascus, Augustine and the pseudo-Dionysius is ... alchemy. They are its elements, and is transforming. There is no sin in it, or betrayal of auctoritates, or novelty, or copying, or any category you try. Alchemy is , as it does in the De mineralibus . That idea (product of the overexcitation of what I just wrote Infra ) I'll have to ponder when "sober" (well, sleeping well). But the idea seems promising. If not for the theoretical framework of the thesis, or article of less ... at least for a story. "
sponges in the harbor, waiting for a sailor Dutch.
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