and if life helps now and then with terrors that transcend the parrot-wisdom of banal experience, the the petty bourgeios mentality despairs.
candidate A despairs. we wont name his name, but we might be called upon to add that he hails from somewhere in the general direction of the antipodes. and as we said he despairs because he has no reason to say what he says nor believe what he believes. to be quite accessible: though he should say he believes in his cultures altruism he hates everyone and is nice only when in fear or awe. and in wardly he despairs.
candidate B also despairs. neither will we unmask his name, but we will note that judging from his speech he seems to be from the nearer corners of the european continent, possibly from the parts that speak a pure romantic tongue. and he despairs because to unfocus is to find hilarity and to focus is to find emptiness that needs filling and practice at a pursuit. in other words, that the cistern of his is empty at the moment and to focus is to start again from zero. it is a situation rife with despair.
and finally candidate C. does he despair? of course! but his situation is much closer to the one in which the patient tells the doctor he is sick. it does not mean he necessarily is. though to find he werent would be tantamount to despair. so naturally he is. and he is from nowhere.
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Before I go anywhere near this delightful slab of amateur psychoanalysis, I require an explanation for the following sentence:
'And if life helps now and then with terrors that transcend the parrot-wisdom of banal experience, then the petty bourgeois mentality disappears.'
What, may I ask, the fuck?
despair my friend, despair; there are lots of fish in the sea, and lets call a spade a spade
Better idea: let's not.
Cos you see, old mucker, I didn't understand why you didn't substitute the whole 'despair' overtone with one of 'delight'. Seems to me the latter more accurately describes our respective mindstates. Otherwise it just seems like self-pity...
and self-anything is something we have to fear(though of course self-pity more). i get the feeling that the lady dost protest too much...so either you indulged too much at one time, or you never have but see it as an unescapable part of your personality. in any case, the dream you had last night doesnt actually mean anything, forget about it, which isnt to say dreams mean nothing, just the one from last night
(toys with the idea of writing a considered response, yawns, scratches beard, decides he can't be fucked engaging in a discussion wherein his sobesednik is more concerned with cloaking rash statements in esoteric or nonsensical garbage and that a cold beer in the backyard [it IS 35 degrees today, after all] to contemplate despair is a much better idea, congratulates self for so frequently having such damned fine ideas, recalls that his existence is one bleak state of abandonment, decides that if this is abandonment then abandonment has far more going for it than is usually credited and that bleak states also seem to have been severely underrated)
fjkdhjhruehrudfdfdjfhdfjdhfdkjfhd
;-)
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