I have tried lots of stuff like chanting mantras, carrying out self fulfilling prophecies for satisfying my desires. But I met with no success. Then I started writing out my desires in paper and later on I smeared them with my own blood. Is this some kind of spell? I am no believer in the occult or the mystic but to my surprise, my wishes started to materialize slowly after long spells of time, not all of them, but some of them. Blood writing is metaphor for wish realization.
Architecture of Secret Societies
The architecture of Secret Societies can be broken into the Literary terminology of two: domination drive and conspiracy complex.
Domination Drive is marked by appropriating and influencing cultural, social, political and religious institutions by persons who are either subverts or subjects. Both are loyalists, but the subverts maintain supremacy and fascist authority by placing themselves cleverly in the top of the hierarchy.
The subjects become submissive to their authority. It is fantastic to claim that the subverts belong to those countries that are developed and also regulate the entry and exit of all economic, social, political and cultural activities within them as orthodoxy and guaranteed liberality to others who confirm to their fraternity. This could be overt by legislation or covert by infiltration and allegiance.
Conspiracy Complex on the other hand is marked magnificent gratification that is an apotheosis in the civilization of mythologies. The adherents of conspiracy complex derive their subjectivity from the fantasy of being, that is they are spirit beings of a civilization continuum and dictate subconsciously through rhetorical devices such as mnemonics that they are subject entities of superior and ancient spirits who are sovereign and governing them. They do so in their assumptions of possessing the power of owning and controlling life, society and culture of nations as hegemonists.
I came into this vein of thought while reading Bataille’s eroticism. While during the sexual act, the being undergoes a transformation; it becomes transformed into completeness a wholeness. Memory, time and being, conscious of existence, becomes suspended as the art of poetry becomes sung. At the point of orgasm, the being disintegrates into death, and the consciousness of the self returns. Here the being is a split, a self called in Deleuzian language as the schizoid. Here Deleuze makes an interesting proposition that all humans are schizoids as they have three Freudian states to experience, the ID, the Ego and the Super Ego. Here Lacan intervenes by saying that the self concept is not a complete unified entity. It is marked by constant adjustments and tensions between the three states of being. Those who resolve their tensions between the three states of being can be called as submitants. Those who are not able to balance the already created disequilibrium created by the ID EGO and SUPER EGO become deviants as neurotics and psychotics. Society is following the Foucaultian notion of operating the “clinic” on their bodies and their minds. Why not the clinic be transformed into therapies that involve art, dance and music? When will clinics die and people be born? Time and reason have been behind these intellectual thinkers.
Let me explain to you what this is. It is a psychiatric hospital but more aptly put, a mental hell hole. I was taken here by the crooked machinations of my relatives. It happened during the night almost one AM. I was quite tired, drunk and having a broken finger. Actually my finger was not broken; the steel inserted into my little finger had shifted and I was suffering pain. A nun, holy cow, took down the biographical details of me. A stout gym built male nurse came and told me, “let me take a blood sample”. I reluctantly yielded. As soon as the syringe throttled into my vein I blacked out. I woke up only the next morning. I became confused. To my surprise I was wearing different clothes. There were other beds around me with people. I exclaimed to myself: “What is this”? I shouted out loud: ” I have lost my job in Indonesia” The six abs, round biceped male nurse shouted at me and abused me in obscene Malayalam : “Ada PattiKazhuvazhi PooriMawne, Nee Mindathaerukka aneykingl thenekku nallathu”. He waved his fist at me. I decided to remain quiet. I tried again to think where I was. The slowly it dawned on me that I was in a mental hospital. I became shattered, a wretched cloud of mud spattered in my brain. I lost a comfortable job that I had in Indonesia. I lost contact with the many girl friends that I have had. I wondered why my family put me in this ditch. My wife, sister and mother had become accomplices to this cruel fate meted out to me. While these thoughts were going on, another patient was brought to the bed opposite to me. He was very agitated and shouting for a doctor called “Danie”. He attempted to kick the sturdy male nurses from the bed. Immediately the male nurses held him tightly and gave him slaps and then one of them took his elbow and gave one tight beating on the back of the patient. By this time the patient blacked out. From another room I could hear a man recite the LORD’s prayer and then he started shouting obscenities like:” Who will fuck her?” “Who will fuck her”? “Who will fuck her”? By this time the bell rang. The male nurse made a rude riposte: ” All go for breakfast”. The metal doors, three in number, leading to a flight of stairs down were opened with a loud clang. There was a loud clapping of feet to go down. In the mad scramble made by most the people in the asylum, except those who were confined in their cells, many slippers were broken; many clothes torn. There was a queue at the four doors of the canteen and it was made up of at least thousand inmates. It took hours to get break fast. Break fast was made of tasteless vegetable broth and four bread pieces and watery tea. After the breakfast was over, there was a slow moving of population up the stairs. The patients were separated into different wards and each ward had a hall. By this time the Nuns, the holy cows, goddamn Catholics came to the respective wards to have their show. I was led into the hall. Firstly medicines were given by the male nurse. And then the nuns, the holy virgins would say” Let’s start today with a prayer.” They would take a book of catechism and recite and we had to recite the prayers after them. Some of the wordings were as follows: “God I command you to bind Satan and his fallen angels to leave this institution”. ” God I command you to bind Satan and his fallen angels to remove our addictions”. Lord I Stand before you as a Sinner. I beseech you for remission of Sins”. Then the 23rd Psalm would be read followed by a chapter from the New Testament. I felt agonized by these mental torments as I have come from rich literary and fine art background. I also wondered why do they want to theologize and proselytize every one into a Catholic orientation. They even go to the extent of forcibly adorning every one with Holy shitting rosaries. After the prayers were over, an inmate who is servile and Catholic -addicted would be asked to read the headlines from the newspaper. By this time an MSW counselor would arrive. He is such a dull shallow less person. He also adorns a fucking rosary, so also the male nurses. This is a specialty of the hospital. All workers of the hospital are die hard Catholics. This MSW would ask each inmate his name and then waste a lot of time, reading the newspaper. Just fifteen minutes prior to his departure, he would start addressing. It will usually be a sermon on the evils of drinking or smoking. Sometimes he would venture into cases of madness and neurosis. Most of his speeches are mug work and they are of no use to the patients. This is followed by the rounds of the doctor. The inmates are separated and sent to their respective doctors. There would also be a holy cow, a nun, a counselor with them. I would go up to the doctor and ask him what my ailment is. He would smile with the others and write my file and bid me to go and sit down. I would also ask him, how long I would be here? There would be no answer. When the doctor’s rounds are over, I would try to return to the room. To my consternation, I would find it locked. We have to sit in the hall for the remaining time till lunch. While sitting in the hall, I would get to talk to the inmates. I hear the strangest stories that I have never read in my life. I talk to an inmate Abdul Salam. He tells me his brother, tied him up and forcibly brought him here so that he wants to confiscate all the property. I wonder why this has happened. The hospital, the bloody Catholic one, has wide contacts with govt. media and the police. Once a person is institutionalized, there is no way a person can plead or petition against it. This hospital does not also allow any communication with the external world. Only incoming calls are allowed. I hear another inmate’s story. He is Luckose. He speaks impeccable English. According to him, his sister has confined him to this institution for Life. She has deposited a large sum of money benevolently for this hospital. He also tells me that, she wants to grab his property. I wonder why there are sane people in this institution? The hospital, the bloody, fucking Catholic Nunnery run by Nuns and their stooges, brawny male nurses is out for making money. Time goes and then the bell for lunch rings. The same procedure for breakfast is repeated. Lunch is made of partially boiled rice, some vegetables and minute piece of fish. After lunch, the patients are allowed into their rooms. The bell rings again at four thirty. The nurses come in and request all patients to go for the rosary prayer. I feel terrible in me while I listen to this holy nexus of the Holy Mother, the Virgin Mary. I ask to myself, how can she be holy and how can she be a virgin? She has children after Jesus. The holy child of Mary is myth propagated by an ideology that wants to Christianize the whole world into a cauldron of Catholicism. During the Rosary prayer, a whole book of catechism is read. After the prayer is read, we are forced to sit in the hall till dinner time. At six thirty the bell rings and dinner get over by seven thirty. Then medicines are given at eight and all lights are off at eight thirty. I get released from this institution where I spent a harrowing ordeal after two months. It’s then that I get to ask my wife, what the nature of my disease is. She tells me I have bipolar disorder. The happenings in this institution leave me desolate, marooned and dejected. I am slowly trying to evoke positivism into my consciousness. One outcome of what happened in this hospital is it has led to an apostasy of my Christian Faith. Today I am an agnostic. shhospitalpaynkulam.com
Yesterday, the 21st September August 2014, I woke up early at 2:30 AM. I had two dreams, in fact three; I don’t remember the third.
In one dream, I was battering a dog to death. In another I was standing on the foot board of bus with an open door. A lioness, not fully matured attempted to jump in and bite my genitals.
I would like to use two Freudian notions for the analysis of these dreams. One is condensation and it refers to several symbolic states that can be interpreted from the dream.
Another Freudian notion is displacement and it refers to the dream trying to disguise some worse behavior, action, trait.
In the two dreams that I have had, I would like to contradict Freud by saying that both the Freudian notions—-condensation and displacement over lap.
The dog is a symbol of faithfulness, loyalty and acute sensitivity of smell in one realm. Why I am I trying to destroy these instincts that could have meaning in life as creativity, new individuality of experience and passion. In another realm, the dog in mating is a heterosexual. Am I trying to repress my sexuality by massacring the Dog. Here I would like to transcend the dream and rejuvenate all those instincts, thoughts, feelings actions and states and express, fulfill them as authentic experiences.
The Lioness trying to bite my genitals is even more curious. In one interpretation, I find convention, tradition and marriage ( an arranged one) has tried to choke out my sexual instincts. Am I being limited by the social mores of the society and being unable to exercise a creative spontaneity of passionate exploration of sexuality.
What is baffling me is in both the dreams condensation and displacement overlap.
The idea for tangibilities and idealities sprung forth from my reading of Semiotics of Saussure and Deconstruction of Derrida.
Derrida has salmagundized the phonic and the graphic, or the sound and the pictorial letter of language with Semiotics of Signs.
The phonic and pictorial content of the language belongs to the Primary Order. It has been created with a view to represent language with meaning.
The Secondary order of language belongs to the realm of Signs, and Signs in turn are made up of the Signifier and the Signified. It was the Semiotician Saussure who has ignited this idea of language as making of Signs which in turn are made up of the Signifier and the Signified.
Here I would like to dichotomize the Saussureian creation of the Sign in two aspects. They are Tangibilities and Idealities. Saussure has already dealt with the idea of Tangibilities. An example of the Sign as tangibilities would be Rose is Passion which is made up of the Signifier, Rose ( the physical content) and the Signified, passion ( the idea or quality).
How ever Saussure has not mentioned of the Sign which can be coined from two Signifieds ( that is a combination of two ideas). An example of the Signifieds making a Sign is Sexual Passion. Here the adjective Sexual connotes passion. Another example would be Dark Vices and another example would be Ideal Happiness. Here the Sign in the Philosophy of Language and Semiotics is made up two Signifieds. This phenomena I would like define as Idealities.
Being or Ontology is one of the most widely debated, discussed and disputed area in Philosophy.
One cannot avoid mentioning the transition of being from metaphysical-theology to pure philosophy and then again to post structuralism as the determination of being’s meaning as problem in the philosophy of language.
As a metaphysical theological problem, being is saturated with presence of LOGOS or the Word as the divine intervening in human affairs.
As a philosophical problem, Heidegger inserts being into historicity and time.
For the existentialists being was an experience to existence.
For Derrida, being was a TRACE left in the language of meaning.
Here I would like to suggest how being is being determined. May be I would like to pursue the interrogative mode.
Does a pure being exist?
Can there be the existence of interior and exterior states of being?
Is being always in the process of experiencing the sum total of consciousness as the following:
b) Sense perception,
c) Desire Satisfaction
d) Display of affection,
e) Negation f) Feeling of Pleasure
g) Feeling of pain h) Futuristic mental projection
i) Bringing forth the unconscious to the conscious mind
Though all these are experienced by every individual, the modus operandi of experience varies from individual to individual
I would also like to ask the question is there a pure state of being or is being always in a state of becoming and I use an Jungian term for that, called as INDIVIDUATION
I laugh these two experiences off …..to make nature look crazy; I come from a country where the phallus is treated as something divine….. What a zombie joke! The myth of the phallus can be deconstructed as the one shattering its enigma, obliterating its magic, vivisecting its scared halo, and what can that be….Every man has to ponder what the secret of nature has left in him, a reality called quick Erection and Delaying ejaculation……….