So true.

There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants. The other is getting it.

(O. Wilde)



I have not become a cynic. I still do happen to believe love is mainly about pushing chocolate covered candies and, in some cultures, you know, a chicken.
We can't resist the temptation of dividing the world into categories and sub-categories, or am I wrong, mr Kant?
Today, let me divide it in Who doesn't know what he wants and Who thinks he knows what he wants. In fact, the big difference between the Greek and the Christian sense of tragedy is that, if on the one hand the greeks lived in a guilt-free hedonistic world with a continuous feeling of imminent catastrophe (any myth could be a good example), on the other the christians live in permanent guilt-sense tragedy with a continuous feeling of imminent salvation. Hello, Nietzsche.
Anyway, I guess my personal mood ain't psychogeographically interesting, unless I psychogeographicanalyse my brain.
So let me explain. You know what I'd like to do? Make a psychogeography of time. A geography of time. Mixing the two a-priori categories: space, and time.

Now I gotta go and discuss with the other members of the group our project on Brighton. May not be the spacial analysis of time, but it's a good start anyway.
I didn't re-read what I've written.
My apologies.

The Treasure

Guess what? It's raining. Unusual, I'd say.
Dear London, what a nice welcome back! Thank you! In the end I love you anyway.. Just odi et amo. Why? Nescio, sed sentio, et excrucior.

And now you probably expect me to present myself. I'd love to, trust me. But I don't know me, so I don't see how the hell am I supposed to inform you.
Being yourself is easy. Becoming yourself is not. I guess this is what we have to do. It doesn't mean to pick up an identity from the Postmodernismarket, choose a soul and change it as we change socks according to the weather.
Oh, please, I don't wanna be a blank pastiche. Not today.

Rabbi Eisik, son of Rabbi Jekel, lived in Cracow. One night, he dreamt there was a treasure buried near a bridge in Prague. He ignored the dream (it was, after all, only a dream), but when had had it for two more nights, he decided to walk the long way to Prague. When he got there, there was the bridge, just as he had dreamt it! Unfortunately, there was one small difference: the bridge was guarded by a soldier. Eisik sit there patiently, but the guard was around night and day. On the third day, the captain of the guards became curious and asked that strange old man if he was waiting for someone and why he was sitting there all the time. Eisik told the story of the dream, and the captain laughed. “A dream!” he said. “Who can believe in dreams? For instance, I have had a dream for three nights, that there is a treasure buried by the stove in the home of Eisik, son of Jekel, in Cracow. But do you see me going to Cracow to dig for it, where half of the people are called Eisik, and the other half Jekel? Ahahah you fool! No, I stay here, where I am supposed to be.
The old Eisik thanked him, and took the long way home again. He dug by his stove, and...
:)


Let's take this journey.
Enjoy.