No subject

[integer at www.god-emil.dk]

>i am not god because i touch myself

"and all women are bitches for making you touch your _self"


I am not god because I created him

I am not god because I am scared

It is no longer the presence of god but the absence of god which reasures Man

I am not god because I am not a woman

I am not god because giving pleasure is _the pleasure

I am not god because god is a second hand writer ...
you know what I'm saying MOTHER FUCKER




>it's happening
>but too slowly for my taste.

suddenly i could bear the uncertainty + suspense no longer.
i hastened to the section chattorum res gestae, looked for my subdivision
and number and stood in front of the part marked with my name. this was a niche,
and when i drew the thin curtain aside i saw that it contained nothing written.
it contained nothing but a figure. an old and worn-looking model made from
wood or wax in pale colors. it appeared to be a kind of deity or barbaric idol.

at first glance it was entirely incomprehensible to me. it was a figure that really
consisted of two; it had a common back. i stared at it for a while, disappointed
and surprised. then i noticed a candle in a metal candle stick fixed to the wall
of the  niche. a match-box lay there. i lit the candle and the strange double figure
was now brightly illuminated.

only slowly did it dawn upon me.

only slowly and gradually did i begin to suspekt and then perceive what it was intended to 
represent.

it represented a figure which was my self, and this likeness of my self was unpleasantly 
weak and half-real.  it had blurred features, and in its whole expression there was something 
unstable, weak, dying or wishing to die, and looked rather like a piece of sculpture which could be
called "Transitoriness" or "Decay", or something similar. On the other hand, the other
figure which was joined to mine to make one, was strong in color and form, and just as i
began to realize whom it resembled, namely the servant and president leo, i discovered
a second candle in the wall and lit this also.

i now saw the double figure representing leo and myself, not only becoming clearer
and each image more alike, but i also saw that the surface of the figures was transparent
and that one could look inside as one can look through the glass of a bottle or vase.

inside the figures i saw something moving, slowly, extremely slowly,
in the same way that a snake moves that has fallen asleep.
something was taking place here, something like a very slow,
smooth but continuos flowing or melting; indeed, something melted or
poured across from my image to that of leo's. i perceived that my image
was in the process of adding to and flowing into leo's, nourishing
and strengthening it. it seemed that, in time, all the 

substance from one image would flow into the other and only one would remain: leo.
he must grow, i must disappear.


as i stood there and looked and tried to understand what i saw, 
i recalled a short conversation that i once had with leo during
the festive days at bremgarten. we had talked about the creations
of poetry being more vivid and real than the poets themselves.


the candles burned low and went out.
i was overcome by an infinite weariness and desire to sleep,
and i turned away to find a place

where i could lie down and sleep.



[ ... when it came ... was it good +?      \\ ... d!d u enjo! !t uen !t kame +?






Just as a cautious businessman avoids tying up all his capital in one
concern, so, perhaps, worldly wisdom will advise us not to look for the whole
of our satisfaction from a single self. - Sigmund Freud (1856-    )