Now, despite our analysis of the Olympic games and its fundamental role in the simplification of man, addicted to sports and the lowest level of human actions, those of pure simplified lineal motions – sports and wars – I confess i enjoy to watch hypnotically the olympic games.
Yes of course, we are all humans living in the metal-earth.
Sports are the expression of the limbs of man in its pure form, with all its perfect simple delights. So they should not be of interest to an scholar, right? But an old scholar is a weak body sitting on a coach, c’est la no vie, so olympics despite propaganda, metal medals and absurd ego-trips is still a form to observe the human body in its artistic perfection.
And at least on paper, the athletes don’t get (much) money for it.
Of course only on the surface. In fact those Old human values from the mediterranean old cultures in which i was born are all by gone. And mea culpa, the transformation into a big industry is due to an old friend of the family.
In my father’s home at barcelona, lived on the 5th floor at pau casals 24, below my room, Mr. Samaranch, head of COI who brought the games to my city, I was then just on my 20s so I got involved (we now all moved from that home so i can put the address in here, anyway nobody listens, maybe some idle robot of big brother, hi there (:
And he was a good business man. So indeed, he after Goebbels’ creation of the propaganda ministry, the true founder of the hypnotic methods of the modern world from evilwood to cbs – ‘make entertaining and patriotic movies, people will like them and won’t ask for anything else’, ‘if you repeat a lie many times people will believe’, etc. etc. created the propaganda of big corporations sponsoring clean, sanitised ‘german-like young athletes’.
Still in that ‘Olympian world’ of cleansed sports, enter too often the coloured races since the times of Jesse Owens to the times of Fiji, the match I am watching, and still an olympic sport team game is, I have to accept, a much better way to throw macho adrenaline than a war game.
I love for that reason as a humanist, like all spaniards do, social sports – peaceful wars without metal, poor reflection of the games of the organic Universe…
So i am now watching Fiji vs. colonial nation UK, 29-0 on the interval of the rugby final, and the haka warriors singing on the stadium, good fun.
For us sensual artists of the latin world there has always been a likeness of Polynesia, the mediterranean of the Eastern decoupling.
Gaugin, the stock broker turned painter as I did, and serial fuc*er in tahiti… Harris, the author of that awesome biography on how to be Casanova in XIX c., my life opening his eyes to true sensuality on the islands, Jack london…Indonesia, indeed, is the equivalent to my mediterranean sensual culture, but with an eastern, philosophical depth that did change my life.
On my youth travelling through the world, i converted to taoism in Singapore, when Dayan a friend whose father had been the last hindi president before the chinese money-making machines, invited me and there enjoyed the first contact with the eastern much more profound ways of thought. His mother was the supreme priest of Visnhu among the native by then constantly set aside more spiritual Hindi community and taught me the basis of philosophical India, which till then i had put below taoism and buddhism, as a fetish religion, on the path of the earlier rig-vedas. But of course, Hinduism is essentially once we clean up the aryan fire-smith bullshit a water cult to the rivers of life, which shows how always life and humanity resurrects once the BUG cultures of animetals recede.
Poor Dayan had to literally make me pass illegally the border, not into singapore but outside, as I took an LSD strawberry in a party and some chinese found out. It turned out it was death penalty to connect with the emergent upper planes of existence in that clean city where once opium reigned free. I hated the place, not even the Raffles and the Singapore sling and the durian, with its rotten mango flavors. So we escaped repression in a small boat and landed in a small island, Τioman, where I found an australian with a beer bar selling to natives, muslim who couldn’t sell but love to drink. He had a nice girl-friend, German, blonde, tall, wide, beautiful amazon, and then I flirted with her, and he came like a bully. A boring, full of himself, aggressive huge guy.
I measured his brain and his muscles and backed off with a swift smile… after asking her the number of her hut…
Τhat same night i sneaked onto the hut and made love to her all night long… the stupid aussie thinking he had beaten me up… found out next day and got crazy about it. No colour, with mediterraneans of the east and the west, latin or polinesyan lovers.
Now why i do this selfie here? As i said an old man likes to remember when he had good motions of his own, watching sports and telling old stories, but also because this anecdotal confrontation, shows something the animetal people-castes of the BUG cultures never understood: the power of water-life to mold the world, in subtle ways, as indonesians, mediterraneans and wo=men always knew.
I was doing nothing bad, just talking to this waitress-girl friend, but the competitive supremacist animetal muscle, limb, sportsman couldn’t tolerate. ‘He thinks he owns you’, i subtle said after he asked her to keep serving, a non-existent clientele, as muslims could not drink beer. And that subtle comment to rise awareness of independence, freedom and the water-in-mind, was enough to dilute the muscle, and open the door of the hut. But animetals do not like water. Funny thing though at this speed of change soon the cities that gave birth to the modern capitalist world east and west, NYC, London, Amsterdam, Hong Kong and Singapore will have to spend billions to protect themselves from the cholera of the rising waters. Ah, the water of life they so much ignore, always gets back with a vengeance, till machines evaporate it… Aussies for that reason are a little bit cooler, and if England had not been so racist, if would have created the ideal indonesian nation, of the 7 cultures of mankind, opening the continent to Hindi migrants long ago…
But they didn’t so aussies could still sing Go(l)d save the queen and yous in control of the country impose racist return measures against any seafarer indonesian migrant to their geographically entitled ‘great Java’ of the old portuguese maps.
Τhose anglo do Not know anything about life. Nor they take it light, so we just left and took another German with us, into the highlands, beautiful unknown country… the threesome went through palm plantations, prehistoric trees, amazing resorts, soaked by sudden storms of water, life and emotions, till we split, when i got fed up of going their way and she insisted in returning to singapore, what for? Singaporeans were as repressed as their masters had been. Fiji, Malaysia, they knew better – they never converted to the absurd ways of the white macho man, they never repressed their life.
And that is the real problem of the world, all repression all fake, all bullies. Τo be a man is a very different thing. Yes, Fiji, what a match, no machos but men, the brits are block-hads, don’t know how to run and nimbly jink as i did with the aussie, as fiji is doing with the brits…
Next I went south crossed to sumatra, travel through Java, in a temple i found clocks, carillons, dutch clocks on the walls of the buddhist temple? Why. the priest told me, the old dutch had it on their houses and were all the day looking at them, so the indonesians thought it was their god and when in war captured one, gave it to the temple. Yes, indeed the clock had controlled the rhythms of time of humans slaving them to the mechanical tic of work, clock x money = work slave.
In the perfect world, as those taoist masters who told the british embassy who in the XVIII c. tried to sell them mechanical clocks ‘why we should buy those ugly machines, to measure the infinite time cycles of the Universe if we have the beauty of nature, the motion of stars, of seasons, of clouds…’ Brits didn’t understand, only realised they were not getting go(l)d and came back with opium and cannonballs.
Or, how they run and dodge those brutish british…
An unleashed force of pure nature, a reproductive wider body…
Now 34-0, let us close this short post and enjoy the show.