"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Archive for December 13, 2012

Cargo – Nu pot trai fara tine/ I can’t live without you

“Every night I keep thinking
At dawn with you in my mind I wake up
I think I still love you
I find hairs on your pillow
Your smell lingers in my room
it seams that even your voice I can hear somewhere
I can not live without you
I can not live, there’s no point
Come back to me again
Come, please, back

In the bathroom your towel stands still
on the mirror written in lipstick  is my name
On the lips I feel even now the taste your kiss
I try to forget and drink a coffee
But it’s as if everything is against me
And you’re always showing up somewhere in my thoughts
I can not live without you
I can not live, there’s no point
Come back to me again
Please come back …”

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translation: memyselfandela, 2012


The Journal of Happiness, Nicolae Steinhardt (3)

https://memyselfandela.wordpress.com/2012/12/07/the-journal-of-happiness-nicolae-steinhardt-2/

Conclusion
All three solutions are clear and unmistakable. Others  to come out of a limit situation, of an imprisonment universe, from the nets of a Kafkaesque process, from a game type domino, from a maze or a room of investigation,  from fear and panic, from any mousetrap, from any phenomenal nightmare I do not know. Only these three. But either one is good, sufficient and redemptive.
Please note: Solzhenitsyn, Zinoviev, Churchill, Bukovsky. Consensual death, assumed, expected, caused; the indifference and insolence; the courage accompanied by a fierce joy. You are free to choose. But you ought to realize that – worldly, humanly speaking – another way to face the circle of iron – that is a good part also made out of chalk (see the state of siege of Camus: the foundation of
dictatorship is a fantasy: the fear) – is very doubtful that you will find.

You will protest, perhaps, considering that the solutions presuppose a form of life equivalent to death or worse than death or  involving the risk of physical death at any time. That is right. Do you wonder? Because you have not read Igor Safarevici yet, because you have not learned yet that the totalitarianism is not that much the clotting of an economical ,  social or biological theory, but the manifestation of an attraction for death. And the secret to those who do not find themselves inside the totalitarian abbys is simple: they love life, not death. “But the death, who Alone has defeated? The ONE that has stepped on it with death. ” Niculescu Nicolue *

* It is unnecessary, we believe, to explain the reason of adopting this pseudonym. We remind you that the text was intended for a circulation more or less limited. It is also unnecessary to insist on the intrinsic relationship between the N. Steinhardt’s two testaments. The word was for him only an expression for acting.

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No way I had pencil and paper in jail. It would be so insincere to try to argue that the “Journal” was held chronologically; it was written apres coup, under the impression of some fresh and vivid memories. Since I could not insert the time, I think it is allowed that I present it skipped, just as, this time in real way, the images , the remembering, the thoughts have visited me, in that flood of impressions that we like to call conscience. The effect, of course, beats into artificial, is a risk that I must accept.

I believe, Lord, help
my unbelief.
Mark 9, 24

January 1960

– A glass? I broke no glass. . . I do not remember. . .
This is my answer. . . and really I do not remember. Or I did break it?
in August, on my and her birthday? Or I did not we break it? I do not know. Yes, I do. Of course I broke it. In August, in the evening, at supper, The doors towards the terrace doors wide open. But at the same time also I don’t seam to remember. I do and I don’t remember. Everything in this surreal and subtle setting, carefully devised, that urges me to take refuge in confusion and to lose myself in confusion: and her warm and compassionate looks in the eyes,  and their skilful and charming looks in the eyes.
The slide of consent is smoothly taking place before me; all I need to do si to let myself slide.

– to be continued

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translation: memyselfandela, 2012