quarta-feira, 20 de maio de 2015

Dialogs on stone tablets




A man and a woman meet on the street:

Hi you! / Hello! - both of them offering each other their good manners.

How are you? - Says the man.

And she replies - Pretty fine... but, I am just worried about a Zipplie I saw five minutes ago.

Did you see a Zipplie? This is amazing, actually. Why are you worried about it?

I am worried about my son, walking around. Cause, you know, he plays guitar in a heavy metal band.  

Now, imagine the following dialog between a priest and a giant frog. They are sitting in a wood banch in a public garden. The priest tries to explain the frog the wonder of symbolic thinking and how this indirect knowledge of things and faith are tied through a primitive bond:


'I can tell you about an old woman, carrying a bucket over her head, and spitting on every longhaired man she sees. I can tell you about this old lady even if I never saw anything like it. But as long as you know the words old, woman, bucket, etc., you can pretty much imagine the same figure I have in mind when I talk about it. Of course, your figure might have a different dress, since I didn't define every detail; she might be naked and have a big nose; or she might be carrying a surf board under one arm while holding the bucket with the other; but she certainly is not a man, and she definitely is not young once I just told you she is a woman and she is old. You can picture, otherwise, fishes inside her bucket, tattoos all over her body; you can think about a skinny old lady or about a woman on a wheel chair, doesn't matter; an old woman with a bucket on her head, spitting on every longhaired man she sees is pretty much the idea you would have in mind.'

The frog is deeply attentive, and the priest continues with his argument:

'Well, let´s say this old lady, or much better, this kind of old ladies have a name. They are known as
“chactalac”. Even if no one has never seen a “chactalac”, since the concept is given in the current language, every one can understand it. And now when I formulate the sentence “there is a chactalac in the drugstore”, you imagine an old woman carrying a bucket on her head inside a drugstore, and every time a longhaired man appears in this picture in your mind, she spits on him, or at least she tries. This may sound a bit awkward, but let's suppose someone says just “There is a woman in the drugstore” in the 9th century. As the word drugstore is not conceived as a proper word, it would be necessary to state that drugstore is a place where you can buy certain kinds of products which have been classified in accord with a number of specific functions. Maybe they would be familiarized with the concept of medicin, maybe not, it´s hard to tell.'

At this point, the frog nods affirmatively and launches out: “I see where are you trying to get with this, wrooobitt... go on, wroobittt”

'The language is a symbolic instrument which allows humans to connect themselves with a reality that their senses can not contain. We are able to understand each other and the barely “real” things people say one to another , cause we all believe in language. If I tell you about an old woman carrying a bucket and spitting on longhaired man across her way, you can just not believe that this woman exists, but you certainly believes in those concepts that I used to build this image, like bricks in a fortress. And the fortress is so solid it wont fall apart just because you have doubts about the shape or the efficiency of its architecture. Like when one of the patients of Freud has advised him that he did not believe in his method and Freud immediately replied: “My method works regardless of your beliefs”. Now, think about the idea of God...'


“There you go...wroobitt” - Said the Frog.

'Hey, just because you don´t believe in God, it doesn't mean that the idea of God is devoid of significance. Imagine how many constructions of concepts were necessary to the synthesis of what most of us understand as God... We are talking about a much more complex picture than the one of an old woman carrying a bucket.'

“Yeah, we are talking about a picture of an old man longbearded carrying lightnings or something similar... wrooobit wroobit. It makes this old lady to appear very plausible, wrooobitt.” - joked the giant green toad.

'Ok, then, forget the word God and take those different concepts: love, benevolence, comprehension, omnipotence and justice; try to describe and find the branches that connect these concepts with much more primitive ones. Yet, first of all, keep in mind that we are not talking about religion, but about language.'

“I see your point. But if you allow me, I would give another name to this complex idea shaped among the concepts of love, benevolence, comprehension, omnipotence and justice.. wrooobitt”

'So, what do you suggest?'

“wrooobit. How about Zipplie?”


sábado, 9 de maio de 2015

Die deutsche Dame



Ich kann nicht mehr machen als was ich kann
ich bin eine Kopie von mir selbst

Sie ist sie
eine unermüdliche Tautologie

dennoch habe ich sie vor mir laufen lassen

Sie ist dort angekommen,
ich nicht... noch nicht..
aber ich werde
werde ich?

Wenn ich angekommen bin,
wird sie jedoch vielleicht nicht mehr dort bleiben
Sie bewegt sich immer noch
Ist es möglich?
Sind wir nicht im gleichen Raum?
und nicht in der gleichen Zeit?

Jetzt bin ich hier
Ich kann sie nur beobachten
sie sieht nahe aus,
aber nee...
Ich komme nie an,
Ich werde sie nie erreichen, denke ich...

Mein Verstand läuft langsam und begrenzt,
weil es keine sammelung der Möglichkeiten ist
Mein Gedanke ist ein gegangener Weg,
eine befahrene Strasse
ein Fakt
solide
wie ein Stein

Und sie? sie lebt
doch!

Sie läuft vor mir
immer weg
Ich kann sie nicht halten
nicht berühren
dann spiele ich mit ihrem Schatten

“Ein Stein der einer Schildkröte nachläuft”
Sagt der Wind

“Ich kann nicht mehr machen”
Sagt der Stein