Tuesday, March 21, 2023

Reflections on the "left-fork" of the double-fork split of reality in "The Quotidian", as espoused by my step-father in his analysis of what Samuel Beckett contorted in a sandstorm of words and subjective existentialism. The plight of a split in reality is loosely attributed to that Kafkaesque victim group which will remain unnamed but it is named in the passage from my step-father's analysis below.

 I look at all the book reviews and videos possible on the topics of the books that my step-father wrote and none have been commented upon or made mention of in any YouTube video analysis of literary criticism or analysis.

The essence of what my step-father--Gary Adelman--Professor, activist, blind, seer but sightless....serious flaws unmentionable, seriously joyous in living transmuted into my life as a force that has kept me alive where apes have failed in similar circumstances.

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The theme of the outcast Jew was never more ever-present than in this piece of writing. The lack of attention to my father's writings echoes the sentiment in this academic journal piece, buried under obscurity and archived peer-reviewed literary publications in academic research databases--which I accidentally happened upon as a near fluke for "free" and shortened considerably for the "dumbed down" public which has a very hard time accessing anything but "decent, good conversational gossip" and meaningless chatter (i.e. in the form of Banshees of Ishinerin).


The struggle for meaning always had the tinge of the silencing of the lambchops--the Jews--with my step-father's every written line it reverberated somehow. He never uttered the words to me in any private conversation, nor was this a theme he ever once harped upon, neither as a warning (it would have behooved my life to know I was a target of poisoning assassination, but my step-father also was poisoned). 

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There was always a longing to find a deep meaning in the words. He always admonished me to not read anything but the highest level literature and not the trashy stuff and certainly--he tried to get me to stop watching movies and tv for any prolonged period of time. My circumspect skeptical wariness of all things mainstream mean Street media come from and are derived from his passion to find meaning.


I was a part of his utter sacrifice to find publishing for his introverted search for meaning as written in book form. Despite all he did to appease the Nazi organization, his writings remain obscured even more than Thomas Hardy's "Jude The Obscure", which was one of the novels my father wrote his criticism of in his most elegant poetic language. "Jude" is the word "Jew" in German. 


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Excerpt from "Beckett's Readers: A Commentary and Symposium". Gary Adelman, et al. Michigan Quarterly Review. Volume XLIII, Issue 1. Winter, 2004.

My step-father's visage within the blindness of his personal quotidian---Beckett, Existential verbal reality fork-in-the-road to the imagination. The eternal Jew relegated to obscurity and hellish scrutiny, shrouded in this literary criticism.


"...The literary imagination is a choice, a left fork off the quotidian. If the splitting were only in the mind and not the world, deep imaginative reflection would be schizophrenic. But Kafka locates the commonplace in that deep realm of the imagination. In the work of Kafka and Beckett, the barrier between the imaginative and real worlds has dissolved. K. of The Castle strives in the imaginative world while acting out his desire in the quotidian. The same in essence is true for the Unnamable. We interpret and understand his struggle as though it took place in the mind of someone in our world desperate to keep the intimations of his uniqueness from being smothered. Wordsworth's Intimations Ode provides a useful analogy: "trailing clouds of glory do we come / From God"; "Shades of the prison-house begin to close"; "And custom lie upon thee . . . / Heavy as frost." In Beckett, life extinguishes any intimations of the sacred. The self—the soul—is extinguished, and would be for the Unnamable if he were not crafty-wise and indefatigable.

We pull for him, impelled by our recognition of different aspects of the hero, and the different planes on which his representation has a powerful significance. The Unnamable, as epic hero for our times, merges into the aspect of the condemned Jew, one of the vanquished, repelled by life yet clinging to it, as if his ghostly existence constituted an act of responsibility to those already murdered. The hero also reflects the plight of the writer: repelled by the world and by his death-in-life withdrawal from it, dimming out, his witness and his art in any case worthless, he feels incomprehensibly driven to go on trying to create. Implied as well is the manifestation of the hero as the rebellious Son refusing to serve a world irredeemably cursed, yet who believes in the fairy tale of the Good Master esteeming his bravery and intending to reward it."


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The stress to my body from literal 3/4 of a day and night combined being spent fighting sinister, grasping, beady-eyed hateful parasitic abusers who are lunging at me to get endless free promotions, which are never-ending this social engineering contract has no limits and no bounds. The destruction to my health literally just from stress alone is murder. Besides shitting stinking black and brown piles and hard pieces of poison out which pollute my bloodstream--I literally faint, pass-out on my bed from the horrific poison which is coursing through my lymphatic system, kidneys and liver and bloodstream going into my brain, where the implants in my brain have created a tube network of hard poisons coursing down in hard filaments and tubes into my neck, the vertebrae is lined with attached tubes integrated into the vertebrae extending in literally all directions--I must strive to fracture the hard poisons so they will slowly loosen and then expand about 6-10 times their shrunken size--and then the poisons seep into my body as I faint on my bed--while in this prone position the terrorists utilize my body's vulnerability and slash under my cuticles and literally cut them off my toes. A few weeks ago the cuticle bed was completely cut off (permanently it was severed off) while I had collapsed in such a state, unable to move from toxic shock and also the pain of hard poisons ripping muscle and skin tissue out of the interior cavity of my body in the thoracic, lumbar and vertebrae regions; in effect my entire spine if affected the muscles are at cellular level ripped out with the poisons which have attached to tissue, skin and bone and also into my intestines and brain and etc. The terrorists order their minions to slash, cut parts of my body out, as they inflict torture skits while I am deep sleep healing mode--death skits, homeless skits, insulting "dumbing" skits aimed at me endlessly. My body exhibits signs of premature aging, grey thin hair, balding from chemicals smeared into my scalp for years and decades to damage my formerly lustrous hair. My skin dotted with blemishes from poisons slahered onto my skin my hands are huge deformed the cuticles are gone from maybe 3 fingers, completely. the nails hang off, are calloused and the toe nails which have had the cuticles removed (in this past month, they severed completely off the cuticle from my right left toe which has been broken; it's not a bunion it's been broken and that happened after I made a drugged-up- comment about a nazi white male out of denmark who, along with a famous "punk" musician out of england, who has routinely hacked his music into my all-female punk lists on youtube, is endlessly trying to scam his promotion out of attacking me; but both musicians attacked me on the same day because I clicked on their music, assuming that their stances about fighting conformist authoritarianism was also directed at me, as a universal person on this planet and not just their nazi white "alternative" branch___one however was an open nazi and in my drugged and enraged anger about the rise of nazism in general and from years of being violently assaulted nearing murder where I am currently living, a huge population of euro tourists so I know their imperialistic impulses and what they truly are when the are on vacation and brown people service them like slaves, almost literally and very plantation-like. They don't have to pretend to go to church or conform to "democracy" standards, in other words. they had me in an accident by having a work truck on the steep hill outside of my living arrangement, and there was a tiny trickle of a clear liquid which appeared like water as I was driving down this 45-degree angle hillside down towards the road (which always becomes extremely busy only when I am trying to get out of the complex and there are no cars before or after I approach this junction so the orchestrated exact timing of cars driving into my path only happens at the exact moment I am at the bottom of the hill---so I must perpetually brake at a very tight angle but after I get out of this junction there are always no cars, and it's always a packed jam of cars blocking my path only when I am driving down otherwise I would be able to navigate easily without having to brake and hold the bike at a fourty_five degree angle (right now hackers have turned the wIfi off, have blocked access to commas and periods and numbers ). the workmen had created a stream of oil---so that the bike literally slid into a crashing position nearing the bottom of the hillside so that the inevitable line of *terrorist* cars always blocking my smooth descent were there while I was sliding and crashing in a sideways projectile. I landed on my left foot, and it hurt a bit but I otherwise was ok, the foot was not injured because I was wearing boots--I went home later that day and at night fell asleep---woke up with the toe completely at a 45-degree angle pointing into my other foot--like at night nothing wrong, the next morning the toe completely disjointed. this was after rotten the punk out of england threatened me after he began his snobby imperialistic white male supremacy english antisemitic gig, his german wife somewhere in the background or watching or knowing about this obviously---I reacted in anger. I am always in these situations drugged so as to render me in a hyperbolic state and knee-jerk reaction which always gives the terrorists an excuse to inflict real violence upon me to justify their white male supremacy (or female or any other skin color they all are told that this is "master-slave" and to inflict all "You have no rights" actions against me). Thusly they broke my to I was in a deep and uncontrollably non_waking state because of this wretched brain implant which the herd of terrorists always love to exploit to inflict violence< torture< to force discrediting behavior on me, and thusly to force subliminals into my brain which under pressure I cannot control, which I repeat< which they all use to justify real life-threatening violence against me. thusly it was either the danish black metal death metal nazi or the english "punk" who ordered this on me, but the real reason was to justify their promotions by using this tech to render people discredited so they can hiss in faked rage "She said this who does she think she is?" they all sneer in hate, white supremacy justifying near-murder knee-jerk reactions which they are then handed every promotion that can possibly be handed according to their level of proficiency in their realm (some are like in past their prime, for example)

  Every single day I am being tortured to death. Slowly, albeit quickly as they get into a frenzy of hate which finally seeps into my consci...