STARVATION - is it dirty work, too?

 

Die Jüdische Allgemeine  lässt in einem Interview mit dem Journalisten Yossi Klein Halevi unter der Überschrift "Die Solidarität der Bürger steht auf dem Spiel" den Journalisten folgendermassen zu Wort kommen.

 

Quote 
25 th of July  25

 

"Das scheint das klassische Phänomen des Post-Schoa-Antisemitismus zu sein.
Einige brauchen die genozidalen Juden, um die Deutschen zu exkulpieren. Denn was es wirklich heißt, wenn Israelis nun die neuen Nazis sind, ist, dass jeder, der Macht hat, einmal handeln wird wie die Nazis. Früher waren es die Deutschen. Nun sind es die Juden. Hinzu kommt das Bild der Pharisäer, das auch säkulare Linke und Rechte in ihrem kulturellen Unterbewusstsein haben. Juden sind Pharisäer. Sie sind scheinheilig. Also lautet der Tenor: Sie sind schlimmer als die Nazis! 80 Jahre lang haben sie uns die Shoa vorgehalten – und nun tun sie dasselbe."

Das problem ist, dass ich genau das für den gerade geschehenden Prozess halte.
Ein Bild überlagert das andere.

 

 

Und genau deswegen geschieht so wenig.

mathematics of starvation

https://www.aerzte-ohne-grenzen.de/ 

Soumission Submission forlegging

My Internet connexion since January 20, 2025 is unfortunately instable, often interrupted for weeks.

 

Wildwasser compromised

My email communication with WILDWASSER - a German organisation and network for abuse survivors -
has been compromised.

I do not appreciate, I have to admit.
My screen's keeping on
flickering turning my writing into brief moments of darkness reminding me
it could be worse

like when some years ago working on the same topic
about Heidegger
quoting / relying on / working thinking with the  / unnameable / Judith Butler
about the unconscious part of subjectivity and its relationship with coercive norms
or simpler
the normative force. bending / splitting from an normative setting / outside the I into the half born Ego

which - for unknwon reasons except the new normal propaganda - had to remind me that some things some persons beings  are destinated to be sorted out.

Flickering. Hate

I do not appreciate.
Not in the case of  me researching on behalf the Odenwald teaching and education
not in the case of  Joachim Schoeps
Nor even in the case of Haushofers' relatives

I do not appreciate that child abuse in the protestant Church of Germany is turned into a weapon
something called trojan horse
which has been used to infect my computer.

The reason for my nonappreciation does not lie only on the roots my upbringing and my shitty family are entrenched with:
ma famille malsaine comme ces gens-Lá de ma famille française ont coutume de les appeler  - qui veulent pour rien au monde être affiliés á quelque chose comme moi.
Not only on behalf of something Rudolf Hess called les amitiés electives
Wahlverwandschaften - Goethe's book they gave to him keeping him waiting to be condemned.


I do not appreciate because I have already been beaten up
by this afroaméricain someone thought funny to send
or this hyper arrogant Jewish person imbu par lui-même et sa haine.
It is not because I am scarred
but because this is the end of philosophy.

As if a cunt like me a public vulgar obscene figure 

had ever an idea about a more decent outcome a small hint of rationality.
I do not appreciate because from the rotten bottom of my genetic conditions not only Husserl' s philosophy is affected
or Montessorian attitude  towards mentally ill or retarded children is affected

even menon, the socratian Menon comes to an end

You don't care.
And the instance censoring me knows perfectly well that nobody will contradict him
everybody knows for sure a mentallw ill person like  me will never reach out into a kind of understanding

because understanding and rationality must be PURE not vulgar or obscene.


My Chrismas dinenr my Christmas figure is that of child abuse
or mentally illness
up to me to choose what ever

No Christian idea
of poenitentia
and repentir
no long way into understanding and mental reconstruction
Vengeance humiliation empowerment - is somewehere else and will always be.


But to me
Philosophy itself seems to be ridiculised by the fact that mentally minor firgure is interrupted
ridiculised in the moment when he or she is trying desperately to understand something on his own trying  to reach the ends
to understand culpability or the responsability of a criminal

But upsetting even more is the fact that nobody seems to be interested into the question

who benefitted
or beneftis still today

where are the pictures ...the paintings the real valuable stuff
whree are all those stolen books or those have been saved

where did all The money go
all those question still remaining on the desktop when you have blocked all the other issues while you're not interested in the relations between Heidegger and Haushofer Heidegger and Risse, Buber and Heidegger, Buber and Ernst Simon, Jabotinski or Avram Stern
or Hauhofer and
and..

because Philosophy is the tiny thing withouut real biographies without the real shitty living life

because You think Philosophie about genetics and genesis would have been published more QUICKLY.

Chrismess

My grandmother did not like children very much
but Christmas was a huge thing for her, and with her,
a gigantic literary carousell  with towers of books stuffed with chocolate  and  funny stuff of music: drumms like those of Basle's drumemrs filled with cake and guz'lles, made of the most delicate dried crocks / rocks of nother Suisse...

But the best part of Christmas for me though was -   between listening to jazz or Hänschen Weiss or old christmas venyls or even the automatic christmas orgue for wandering folks

(I doubt, anybody has a n idea of waht - sic - I am talking about)

The best part of my Christmas was she herself, M.Adam, reading
howering in middle all these paperworks and reading for us some of her chosen favorites
(Iam sure she had done some rehearsals before)
like
The bridesmaidWilliam Goldman

or Th.White, The once and future king

but something must have stopped her  - in the case of
Goldman...and the bride
when it came to  the part  when HE - the Unkown HE said  to  the Bride - who ever she might have been - a kind of sweet bitter words like. "remember me even when they  will torture me  to death I will try to hide in my brain  with the most hidden part of your memory and save myself by doing so..."
This kind of yaw-dropping literary stuff where a child like me will always be unable to tell the difference between lies and fiction.

You don't care, I. know...
Because everything here is a lie, my father would say.
He effectively remenbers having had a very pooor Christmas childhood.
Nothing of my words are true never mind all those books of Stanislas Lem and Tolkien and Mansfield and Michel del Castillo, I really do  posess...


And this picture showing an old school in TROGEN, where later Elisabeth Rotten founded an International guesthouse for  war orphans, refugee's children
but in Trogen, Appenzell, where the grandfather of my grandmother had been a teacher teaching in one of those intern schools for poor labourers and their even poorer orphans. Long before the Second World War existed.
Still today to make up for my shitty english I am relying on those cheap Dickens books someone gave to my grandmother or her mother in law
as a gift to say thank you... Kägi Nägi...Switzerland Vielmals Danke.
Does not seem connected....So apart the man and the bride I cannot connect to anybody more concrete and reliable than a book
is the city of TROGEN. Kanton Außerrhoden.
And the humanitarian aide problem. The International Red Cross
or The connection between

the red Cross
and Tracy Strong and some Jewish Rescue Organisations.
Where things like the Kasztner Transport happened
and I have to be  nowvery careful about the words I will use next because there is something that makes me really angry.

One of my  blind ideas...  Untrue untrue untrue ...aveuglant one of mes idées fixes guiding me with a blind eye
is this crazy debilitating idea relying Spain, the Civil war, France Switzerland, Germany and the land of extermination and the possibility of coming then back from death.
Got already some strong advice not to dwell longer on those kind of absurd nonliterary day-dreamings
about trains  filled with Children or parcels filled with children or music boxes automated by frozen children

this is one oy my Christmas mysteries Christmas stories Of my Childhood
nobody every spoke about
But by not speaking about some ..thing... can silence create the most compelling idea in a stupid limited  mind like mine
I doubt anybody is grappling getting what Iam talking about
about those missing children rescued out of nowhere by a train.

and here I have to be very careful about things like the Kasztner Transport
and I have to be very careful by choosing  the words I will use next because there is something that makes me really angry.

because I could blow my existence in the balance
Thinking about the people of Israel destroying deliberately humanitarian aid für Gaza.
This is something I can't bear. Not for one second.

Perhaps, because I do KNOW for the next generations to come, how difficult it is to ask yourself: did I help or did I not?
And I don't want to hear the shitty answer that the people of camps are filthy that  they were thieves and they would destroy food like animals would do (which is a lie). This is a reply I have heard and read about in my family papers , too.
And it is disgusting. it is disgusting to say people in concentration camp have deserved to eat rotten stuff filthy water it but the children got some Polio vaccination
Because  having listened to the 100 descendants of  ONE person - of ONE child survivor of the Katszener transport  at a conference organised by the Archiv für Zeitgeschichte Zürich in Autumn 2024

and I still try to suppress the automatic instinctive reply coercive, coming from far beyond my night
give back what you have been given

Job's pain

With deep pain

am I listening to the News

It is a pain taking root in my body

Deep inside my belly

Where you and every of us is suspended

A dead girl’s body or of a man

How could I possibly express condolence sorrow pain

When the abstract line of dialogue is

Suspended

Do I remember my motherhood and the pain in and throughout my womb?

Motherhood is starting once but never ending

How could I share some words of grieve of pain of solitude and isolation

Oh Hersh

with deep pain

I have heard your voice

Calling crying for help and assistance and support that had not come

Whereas I am supposed to think and take into consideration Job

And Job’s Pain

And I have to 

Shut up

In front of too much pain

giving advice

Where consolation is impossible

One has to respect the pain and silence

Dialogue is no longer possible

They say

Its not something someone like me has to give 

Moral lessonsare not tolerated

A nazibreed is not allowed to give moral lessons

It's the bottom and root of evil.  

They say there is no solidarity and if there was one it vanished quickly

But solidarity is not an one way ticket

Solidarity is rooted near the place where evil begun and started to hurt

I feel so much pain

I don't have anything to say or tell

nothing about Buber or Cohen

The great jewish philosophers talking about universalism of Faith

They say its twisted  annihilated or to be annihilated

Oh Hersh your hand

Iam wondering how long you had the courage 

being buried alive

a dead citizen

Oh Hersh your hand

gives me heart ache

They say

my words are nothing you could feel

nor would they reach out to you

Tu n'en auras rien

Encore une chose

Je voulais te dire

Still one thing has to be said -cleared

Eins aber noch ist zu sagen

This  poem of Hölderlin I cherished for so many years

and its translation I worked on

Beginning in France, Paris at the Alliance Française

sitting in a class room for beginners with an old Turkish imame

who could hardly understand a single word

of my twisted tongue

my language my tongue to be broken

Dans ma langue ridicule que tout le monde saura de bon coeur ridiculisée

But the point I get stuck/ stucked all those years always on

is

the revolving one

not satisfaction nor happiness nor self-esteem nor pure and sheer luck

this kind of beyond dignity

au-delà de honnête satisfaction ayant été consommée par joie

and melancholy

being a slut cunt

a dead person morally socially intellectually artistically

whatever I could say is nothing

even the comparison to Hölderlin is stolen based on borrowed insight, cranked up with false empathy

someone like me

hat nichts zu sagen.

and so I thought helpful to get some advice from friends, women on particular or

relatives

about cette épineuse question de dévoiler au grand public

speaking out

 in public

what is already public

But  fragile ones I have asked they say, and I can hear their fragile voices breaking again, shadowing back into

shame ,

you can't.

You can NOT

There is no dignity in

exposing ABUSE.

(And their broken voices 

not looking at French trials not regarding French newspapers

still insist on the abyssal fact:)

There is no dignity

Tu n'en auras rien

tu n'exposeras que ta monstrosité.

tu verrras ce que tu en gagneras , dixit la voix avec une haine froide

But you see I am still wondering

being unable to think

unable to handle purity correctly in an appropriate way

how deeply unconscious

a woman must be

oh melancholy my words my subject