E. by T.A.

The Consolatory Gesture

(Taken from The Bodies Artist)

The experimentation makes mental victims. It hurts me say this and today to the place of the head I have a story of Carver. One of those toasts. I had warned to you. I had told you him that my experiment was bad, it was on me and that I didn't want around anybody. But you nothing you are wanted to remain under there. You have sworn me that nothing would not have done you and that you were ready, aware of, what I didn't have to worry me for you. I won't be you of weight, not to make any scruple to you, you go before, we will experiment in two. We are programmed for forgetting, help me not to forget you, to modify my program, leave street. I am gotten used to be only, it cannot be me of any weight what I have to do, leave me alone too soon. I will estrange my children by myself, I won't move anymore, I will stay completely immovable for the whole necessary time, leave from me, you disappear, help me not to forget you. I make case to a thing. For the whole life I have received conditionings. Strong, of those that tell you what you have to do or not to do, that they bring away you, that they don't make you be what you are or that you want, that make to you return home embittered, without hope, incapable to tell yourself I am what I am. Then a kiss, a caress, a sweet word of your children, of your mother or of your woman, a laughter with the friends and all restarts afresh. The program is restarted. To now restart the computer? You. We cannot rebel to this state of things because it is a program with so much of references to his inside, corrective, extensions to his operation. I have thought this, I have acknowledged this. We cannot live without conditionings, as Fromm says we have fear to be free, we are not programmed for being me I tell it, but at the same time this need of conditioning us worn-out it creates collateral effects that make us return home as you tear, human larvas. Here the program induces us to the consolatory gesture (caress, kiss, laughter, word) that it reorganizes us, it detoxifies us from the lack of hope in ourselves, us shiny to new ready still to suffer to suffer in the following day that conditioning which we pant up to the death. There is no revolution, social removal that can make us go out of the program, has to see her to us with ourselves, to make the accounts with the program. It is necessary to put hand to the source and it is not easy. I don't know from what it departs to start if not from the program of which I prepare. I risk the zero resetting of the Hard-disk and then it would be good night to everybody. I risk strong and you have to leave me alone. I don't want to jeopardize anybody in the experiment. it is not joked with the life of the others. I give up the consolatory gesture. Nobody can touch anymore to me or to say a word of comfort. I want to ascertain as the program it reacts and to understand better the rising mechanism of it. I won't feel anybody that tells me anymore I love you or I love more simply you, I thank you for the words that you have told me it was as that I didn't feel her, we depart for a trip, we visit different places, we do something. The shivers come me to think what we are doing, you are wanted to chase within for strength there. We are worse and worse, the program does it labors to restart alone him and my attempts of change don't allow to hope for nothing. We are icy, we start not to recognize the keyboard anymore. 491 A.Cs. it is more than a week that the armies are faced by the shores of a stream without deciding him to fight. I am a simple oplita from the part of the Greek and I don't know why. I know only that will make them win on their rival Persianis. E' the month of boedromion of the calendar metonico. Reformed. Among a few times there will be the battle and me I am on the shore miming that that will happen soon to the Persianis. I have a good time doing him, also them on the other side they make ritual of war but they don't know how it will go to end. Me him and it is even more what I do. It arrives on the right side of my shore, a child with a pitcher to pick up water from the stream. Simple water to be brought home, really next to me. A blonde child with a braid, is you from child, that is bent to pick up water from a stream, next to me, in front of the Persianis that look. You have not even made case that I am nearby you. You have just ended to fill the pitcher and you throw on to yourself. You don't even have the time to understand. You see a helmet and a short sword, wide that slips the stomach, it rises and it makes beautiful show of you to the Persianis on the other bank. Don't make a moan, you are seemed light to me, light to lift with my sword. You continuous to turn in circle with my iron and I utter free cries of war to the enemies that I already know to defeat. They look us to Them to dance. I have the legs in the stream and a flag pierced on the oplita sword. I put down you in the stream, I do work to free you from the sword. I get further while your braid follows me along the stream with the Persianis that look. They have premonition of what it will happen them of to little there. Days and days. You have lost the drives, reseted the Hard-disk. I don't know thing anymore to do. I had told you him help me not to forget you. My program has started over marching with some change. You there is not you have done her. I now choose alone my conditionings, without resorting to external ram, more for the time being I have not succeeded in doing: I am free however to condition alone me and I have completely can live without the consolatory gestures. I have found again even the taste of riparlare with my children, my darlings, it is not a selfish action of rerouting of the program anymore. I impose alone indexes of legibility you fix, runs and meetings, conditioned feedings (today only potatoes), meetings sexual convicts with women that nothing don't tell me, books to be read to every cost, repeated words to my inside obsessively, schedules of standstill and exit, everything alone. Free. Of you an only scepter I remember, a caress on my face that I have not granted then to you you have released. Zero. Something to the alimentatore, something tells that I will meet you, again. On another shore.