00:00 English
21:05 Deutsch (Die Formel — siehe Nr. 154 »Excuse me« für den kompletten Text)

свідуза (sviduza) — Zeuge
місніні (misnini) — Ort
сінісчні (sinischni) — Heuhaufen (I’m not sure about this translation, the dictionaries are contradictorial, only on google appears this translation, and there are other words for hay stack, like копиця сіна (kopytsya sina))
тіпо (tipo) — hier entlang

German proverb: Die Nadel im Heuhaufen suchen — to search for the needle in a hay stack.

Der deutsche Diskurs war etwas schwachbrüstig heute, orientierungslos taumelte ich umher zwischen den idealen Gefilden des Citoyen und den vulgär-materiellen des Bourgeois, zerrieben in dieser unauflösbaren Dualität, die den Weg zur Dialektik noch nicht gefunden hat. Aber das muss wohl so sein, möchte ich mich doch ganz von Deutschland entfernen und mich geistig meinen fremdländischen Geliebten annähern.

164

Dear Winter, Thank you for last week. We were both agitated and I enjoy so much watching you out of the corner of my eyes and trying to catch your expressions in order to deduct from them what might be going on in your brain.
I think I could go on like this for at least half a year. Of course you can stop me at any time, because now is summer and it would make lots of sense to fall in love in summer and enjoy the warmth, the blossoming of the fields and flowers outside, admire the ripeness of the fruits and lay down maybe in a haystack or on a meadows to kiss, careass and to console for the past half year that felt so hurtful at times when feeling this insecurity if we might ever come together to talk again.

But if you also enjoy this double-knived play, we can let it play out and go on for some time. Because of course, in real love the feelings of infinite curiosity and adoration might vanish or be reduced in the normalcy of everyday life and the routine establishing itself — but why should it be different, I mean, I can’t go on living like this forever, it’s too crazy and intense, it would ruin my mental stability at some point.
However, for now, it can go on because with these episodes I discover and unveil that there is a lot more to give to you, the whole vulva theory for example goes on for 7 pages and should be read entirely. So these episodes are bursting, I try to give you everything I have, to create a unique artistic value that maybe could match the value I sense your divine individuality represents for me.

What I said last time about this girl I fell in love to in my adolescence was highly important. Because since then it seems I’m fighting this battle to determine where the front line between idealism and materialism really is set.

So in a way, I see it like this.
You girls are very ordered, rational, decisive, you know what you want and are more fit to lead a »bourgeois« life, looking after the basic needs and goods in the economic sphere, establishing a plan for your lives, while us boys we might be more irrational, chaotic and through some obscure channel feel driven towards risky or unproductive behavior.
And nowadays in the beginning of a love relationship, you try to discipline us, which I don’t see as such a good thing, here comes to light what we might also call »toxic femininity«. You make us cleaner, healthier, and above all, demand from us that we know what we want. In Eva Illouz’ book this difference between the genders is described through the female urge for exclusiveness of sexual relations and the male »Bindungsangst«, the fear of commitment. This stereotype about men puts us into a more comfortable and powerful place, analyzes Illouz, because this way we have a corridor of retreat.
However, I don’t follow her theoretical approach totally and in my view this disparity is an instrument of female disciplination, you want us to become more feminine and reasonable in a way — this bothers me a lot and makes me want to be defiant.
Because with this male vulgar discourse about sex, I mean, I get how it is hurtful and infuses shame and feelings of inhibition and paralyzation, but at least it articulates the important fact that sex is so wide, a field you could feel driven towards with almost any kind of person, it depends on the moment, the current state of your desire and so on, but it simply is a lie and a rude mistake to think about sex in a monopolistic way.

Apparantly, men only want sex and are dominated by their sensual desire, while women are more romantic. This state of affair I cannot accept and it must be understood that it’s good to want sex, it’s a natural impulse and men are privileged because they can express it that openly while women only can use their romanticism as a replacement for the vulgar and healthy desire.

And with this German girl mentioned last time, this was my internal battle, to make it clear, I don’t even need sex or even to meet and talk to her, maybe at a later moment, but just in this precise phase it felt enough to only write to her and read her messages. This might even be better because the oppressing class structure of society maybe would distort and sabotage the real love process, I don’t know, but for me it seems enough this way and my primary concern is to not be dominated, not give into the expectations and expected normalcies from my family and everyone around me; they all think that it can only be real when you »really« get to know each other, meet and touch and be in this role pattern of girlfriend and boyfriend.

This pressure I felt sharply in Argentina after that; it’s so absurd, how this question who you truly are and what defines you, what is your place in the world, how this explorations can stir you up and not leave you in peace inside this liberal market. Because, I mean anyways I’m very privileged like all of the kids in this private school back in Argentina, we belong to a very high stratum of society but maybe exactly because of this fact then you have a lot to lose and feel like crushed when starting your own adult life, thinking about what to do with it.

This fight between materialism and idealism means for me that in a painful way I failed to communicate my love to the argentinian class mate back then, but the failure might not even have been the lack of real intents, conversations and finally a relationship, it might have more to do with my lack of realising that already this love I felt internally so sharply was simply good enough, there was no more step needed, it was adequete like this. Of course it would be great to get into the material sphere some time and experience this other degree or variety of materialism, taking the next step rather than only having eye contact. But why take it so fast? It all has to do with the gaze of the others and that I felt, what the others thought could be normal could only be a normal relationship that I should seek urgently and therefore this was also my scale of measurement where it would be determined whether I had succeeded or failed in love.
Today I think it was a success, just it could have been a lot greater. But my real regret is not that I didn’t kiss her or gift to her some romantic words like here in the podcast — it’s simply that I didn’t work hard enough on my writings, elaborate on the ideas that were already then spinning in my head and at times I would write them down, but it wasn’t enough, I wasn’t dedicated and committed enough. Because this could maybe have helped me to see the truth about love. I don’t know, but the fact is that written texts are a material expression of the inner realms and require a certain dialectical work effort.
To compose this kind of art could have made me feel worthy (würdig) for this girl to approach her maybe… it could have made me realize that nothing else counts, in a way these expectations by the others, parents and school mates and teachers, are all irrelevant, even non-existing. Like in the moment of writing, it doesn’t mean a thing to me what all this outer world could think or like about my texts, I’m totally focussed on what you could see, my muse, or also other girls I feel that are already inside me like my ex girlfriend and this encirclement cannot vanish so quickly, or back then my argentian class mate who was so vivid. If I could write all these artistical efforts for her, then I might be worthy and capable of doing anything, even talking to her or having sex.

So this is a complicated point, but needs to be clarified because somehow it is vital for my biografy. Back in Argentina, I didn’t have lots of real friends with whom I would be really talking on a daily basis. But it wasn’t that bad, sometimes in a certain phase of life maybe someone feels like this and wants to hide without even knowing why or for how long, but still I felt like an integrated part of the class and enjoyed very much to listen to the conversations of the others and their vivid discussions or vulgar references… this was a great time and gave me a socialist feeling of belonging together at least with everyone in this school.
But then after that once my family had returned to Germany and I began to study, there started a rather depressing phase of my life when I didn’t have a lot to do, university classes bored me, but either way I didn’t have the will or strength to begin doing something else as a counter balance in my life, like a sports or writing (or podcasting).

The gap between idealism and materialism somehow has to do with the vulva, this gap in your lap, dear women. Because this is a material organ, touchable and reacting to stimulations, but for us men it also feels like you women are beings so ideal and composed out of light that it ought to be impossible to touch you, somewhere there must be a misunderstanding, and the vulva symbolizes this impossible link between the material and ideal stratums of our lives.

You can say about Donald Trump anything you want and of course some of his statements were misogynic and should be condemned, but his sentence about grabbing women by the pussy was in my view a highly emancipatory step. First of all, it was uttered in a private conversation, so yeah, one can lambast him for that but what if we recorded everything we all say in our private lives, there will be lots of ugly things in it you’d feel ashamed were they to be made public. But more importantly, Trump’s phrase in itself contains the vital philosophical predication that a vulva is also something material that you can grab with your hands. Although its form is not as singular and eye-catching as a penis and at its core, it also hides some of its main elements, like the vagina leading into the inside of the body which is precisely its function, so despite of maybe not looking that impressive as the male organ at first glance for a naive observer, the vulva is still something material, a vital part of the feminine body and shows us that women also have their needs and sources of lust and definitely are not these ideal, flawless, morally superior beings as which they are painted — lamentably also by today’s liberal bourgeois feminism, a variety of feminism doing more harm than good to the cause of female liberation.

In a way, this text also demonstrates what I was trying to say about my time in Argentina, that my efforts of writing were good, but not good enough back then. Once you really get started, get a feeling for the words and the flow of the text, and most importantly, forget about yesterday’s texts because I can’t feel bound and inhibited by them and by what I wrote there, I can’t be loyal to all my thoughts and texts — once you get there, submerge into the process of creation, then you never want to stop and feel that this activity is enough for you, fostering your self-consciousness and confidence and preparing you for the real outside world.

So the missed link, the failed synthesis layed in this fact that I didn’t see back then how important this work — or in work in general, because of course everyone should have a task in life like this and we need to fight marxistically for this so we don’t have to fight against each other in the competitive market about who gets a fulfilling job and who is barely getting by although working unceasently in low-pay branches — is, that it really is at the base of everything and makes you a whole human being, that without it you feel empty and have no chance of coming into the clear about what and who you really are. And that this work of writing could also be a necessary preparation for love, a step, once taken, could enable me and make me feel prepared — at least, I have something to go back to and all my life doesn’t have to collapse into this other person, although one might be driven to feel that by the mightiness of this other persons radiation one can only live and define oneself at the other’s side and not feel anything, not be anything apart from him or her.
So there could have been a conclusion, a communion between the ideal realm and the material one, but I was to shy back then. Today, the »realization« of the love I feel for you, Lili, lies already in all these words and podcasts I produce, somehow there is nothing complicated anymore, I know we belong together and although I don’t know how and how to act in a right way to produce a material encounter or a communion, it feels alright and with the tide of my production rising, maybe also our material connection can rise.

—

Finally, here I give you a poem I wrote some time ago in April, 3 days after publishing the first viceful episode in English. It uses an elaborate word at the end, »verhakeln« (or also verhaken), which is like to entangle. »Vergreifen« means normally something aggressive, possibly violent but in this case of course it describes the urgent impulse to touch you tenderly.

8.4.

Wie soll ich sagen, Liliya?
Natürlich gibt es noch andere Mädchen und
Natürlich sind die auch schön;
Aber das ist gar nciht die Frage

Die erotischen Fänge sind nicht das Problem
Wenn ich dich sehe
Sondern diese ganz bedeutungsschwangere Frage,
Was wird aus uns?

Werde ich mich dir hingeben und du dich mir
Und wir uns gegenseitig unsere Leben widmen?
So schiene es mir zumindest angebracht,
Wenn wir aneinander vorbeigehen,
Wenn ich deine flatternden roten Haare sehe
Und dein unergründliches Gesicht, deine
Liebevollen Augen und
Dahinschmelze, dann fühle ich,
Dass du ein Magnet bist, der mich anzieht,
der mir keine Chance mehr lässt,
Als an ihn heran zu stürzen,
Dass ich jeden Moment aus meiner festen Bahn,
Die ich wohlbedacht einschlug,
Geraten werde und von dir angezogen kollabieren,
Zerschellen an den Mauern deiner Unwiderstehlichkeit
Ich kann dir nicht widerstehen, das weißt du doch.

Natürlich können wir noch ein paar Monate so weiter
Spielchen spielen; und das hat ja auch was Erotisches,
Eine spezielle spielerisch-romantische Komponente
Aber das ist nicht das Wahre
Sondern das Wahre kann nur sein, dir zu sagen
Dass ich mich verbunden fühle,
Dass wir so oder so schon Eins sind, geistig,
Mag nun die materielle Wirklichkeit hinzukommen oder nicht
Und ich erst wissen muss, wissen, was aus uns wird
Oder irgendwann werden kann
Bevor ich wieder andere lieben oder nur ansehen kann—
Ich bin nicht treu, natürlich schwebe ich über den bürgerlichen Moralvorstellungen
Die nur Wirklichkeits-Verzerrungen sind
Aber Liliya, ich werde dein Diktum doch nicht missachten,
Wenn du mir sagst, was die Moral ist, dann halte ich mich dran
Es ist nur so, dass alles so verwirrend ist und ich deshalb nicht mehr
Zurechtkomme in direser Welt
Aber mir dir komme ich immer zurecht und immer spürte ich, dass ich bei Dir sein muss,
Dass es keinen Zweifel gibt, unsere Bekanntschaft muss ausgebaut, ausgebrütet werden
Langsam, gemächlich, aber beharrlich. Ich mache keine Vorschläge, ich bitte nur um deine
Feminine Emanzipative oder Initiative, jedenfalls irgendein Wort, Das du mir schenken könntest, an dem ich erkennen würde,
Dass ich mich weiter an dir festkrallen, in dir verhakeln, an dir vergreifen darf.