Normalization of the margins: A Vacuum of Delirium
The intentions are always shadowy. Delirium of the masses is not . The Normal. Seja marginal. Seja heroi.
The post will embrace a style. We will evolve within the box and the letters into a creative havoc. The post will be as deluded as the world which it deludes in creation. The fact of the matter will succumb to the bad intent. Pulverize the archetype and summon the father of the reality that is not. That’s what happens. I tell you this now not because of the factual integrity or the artistic superiority we seek at times but because this is important. The subject-matter is delicate and should be attended prior to any engagement into anything hysteric. And once again, in the haphazard way of societal construction ‘the others’ have taken upon themselves, we shall obey the masses of and with which we are not.
Now, I am from Cyprus. I am a subject of Cyprus so is all of this. This is going to be true of everything we do or say at this point on.
Cyprus has no significance. It’s as land and sea as any other part of the world that is land and sea. It has soaked in blood as much as the other lands have. It has been humanized in politics and butchered by leaders for years now. People are people in Cyprus. As much as the people are people in any other place. In the heart of ego and the self-pity of the island lies the entrapment and romanticist of a Cypriot we all have been. Cyprus people fail, in the way of hailing gods and the parting sense, to establish an identity.
Too much credit as it might have ranked up to, Identity ID is familiar as Consciousness C is. The language that summons the credibility of what identity is is self-indulging and is in a petty park of what has been known right off the bat. Bypassing the inviting rite of passage into the depths of the questions of ID in its ontological never-know-never-how tag and giving that ID flourishes as it gets talked into awesome holiness of human paternity of human god that is human itself, we deliberately focus and synchronously say that ID gets built into and out of C. Now it gets interesting. It’s almost like a cynical plot defying the very best we did doing what we do best. Being born into an evolutionary quip of a humanness that is us, C settles as a liquid axiom of surreal existence of philosophical agreeableness of reality in an elusive and trans-figurative essence. C’s omnipresence is nothing to be talked about. It might all be an ape joke we have come to tell each other to justify the absurd aberrations of actualized organic postulates of logic we all are out of the the mother nothing or everything possible. What’s left of the outraged foundations to defer is ID, which comes about in a timely manner as a knock on the door at 4am. ID concerts with C. ID becomes the communal alter-ego of C. ID hovers over the crowds, alarming. Alarming the coming of another C, savoring.
Savoring the limits. And now it gets fun. ID is ALL about limits. ID is crippling in its paramount state. It defines and determines. It chooses and eliminates. It resembles and hierarchizes. It does what we do. This is what i have been trying to tame into bullshit, but since we’ve come down to this, it might as well be renegades all the way: It does us. Innuendo.
This lovemaking is a whole alot more than an analogy, which is a weakly trait to digress from the confession when we witness every possible relation mind has come to know is real and no more surreal than what is real. While ID does us, we do ID. WE COME OUT OF ID WHICH COMES OUT OF US. Feel the blindfolded ecstasy, see the finite infant? This nauseating whirlwind bastardizes the possibilities that we might all can be. What we h
ave is what you have is what we have. See the walls closing in, hear the sirens fading? Touch the borderline of our limits?
Now it gets sad. ID is a social entity (really ? really.). It conceives the human paralogs and sets them into interaction. From then on, the possibility of human action falls merciless and grotesque. It gets torn apart, disfigured, unimagined, repeated, repeated, falsifyingly validated. In the heart of self lies the entrapment of ID in bits of rotting cliches and succumbed anomalies of the routine. Everyone gets normalized, vacuumed into the sick margins of the yore. The freedom is compromised but nobody talks about it. Everybody talks about the freedom then it gets trivialized. The outliers get erased with a speed, with a counter-selection unheard of. The Mass Constructum gets supreme. And this is how the absolute C deconstructs itself into the affair of certainty in the lair of human power of irrationale, aimlessness and entropy.
And ID crisis is a wondrous little island called Cyprus. History gets convoluted and treacherous and Cyprus is nothing but of it. Go read, i am not going to write about it. ID crisis has an important semantical weight to it stemming from the body of history, that’s why the mention of it. ID crisis is neither a subtraction or and an addition to a healthy dosage of daily ID values. ID crisis is neither the atrophy or the cancer of ID. ID crisis is a breakdown in the utter dynamics of the whirlwind. It’s a ill-tempered failure in two immense hoofs ID stands on: The normalization dynamics and the feel of belonging. Cyprus suffers because it creates this vacuum for epidermal delirium into which it sucks an set of most random, senseless, pathetic, shallow premises C is innocuously present with no matter where we were born. The taboos, sects of socials beliefs, the enmities of categories of sorts, the proximity of the nihilistic death and the delusion of safety all shape up to be this conglomerate of modern Cypriot folklore. Second, ID is, in essence, a definition of the self (really ?? yes). The dysfunction of a stinking but normal ID dynamic blurs what we see in ourselves as a space-holder in a world of spaces. Self gets undone in the darkness of what to belong to. Nationality, Love of Nation vs. Love of Land, Love of Land? , Love, I, Them, I without Them?, Out, In, Am I out or in? It turns into a relentless battle of questions and a servitude to a blurry rationality asked,examined and applied by the most unwilling people to do so.
A mess. However, as an unspoken rule of unnatural science and as the essential teaching of the fourth most prominent religion in the world, Fight Club, out of destruction shoots out something that is pure (decadent?). By the disinclined samples of the island, maybe Cyprus achieves something masses rarely even contemplate. A philosophical argument: They dissect and refuse to bow down to a ID manifesting itself by a known system of practicality, and choose (well, they certainly do not choose, but you see) to put up without a worldly sense of belonging and a vacuum of delirium which is very very sucky. I am in no possible way sympathetic to what the island have incurred with, but it’s a philosophical stance nontheless and all the mess Cyprus has instinctively or in whatever way self-inflicted surfaces to ID. ID carves C. C founds us. We embrace ID. Cyprus breaks ID. ID traps C. C forgets us. We forget ID. There you have it.
And now it gets done.
F.B.
