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11:46 Gepost door doeterniettoe in Film | Permalink | Commentaren (1) | Tags: kaspar hauser | Facebook |
Beste, ik heb nog niet alle deeltjes gezien van Kaspa Hauser, alleen het eerste.
Dit is een materie die ten zeerste mijn verbeelding prikkelde. Het zette mij aan tot het schrijven van een associatieve fantasie over dit onderwerp. Ik dacht het aanvankelijk de vorm van een horrorverhaal te maken, maar tijdens het schrijven merkte ik dat ik volledig op de piste zat van John Locke, de Britse empiristische filosoof, met zijn association between ideas, en op die van de Franse psychoanalyticus Lacan met de theorie van de spiegel (dit beeld is minder good uitgewerkt)...
Of my parents I know nothing. I don 't know if I have existed eternally or not. It was only by paces so subliminally small, that the concept of 'parents' began flourishing into my mind. Even after long reflections I still don 't know wether I was born or not.
I was raised by my Masters, whom I was not able to see. My Masters I associate with these invisible forces that fed me, that taught me the power of language. Impredictically and ruthlessly, they showed me signs and I was forced to hear sounds, In an ubelievabally cruel way, they associated into my mind the connection betwixt signs, sounds and objects.
For each time when for instance, my childish mind failed to make the association between the sound 'chair', the signs chair and the object I was supposed to sit on, I was flogged, until a red substance began pouring out of my body, which I began to associate with a vital fluid. By the wise lessons of my masters, I also learned the concept of pain, a horrid experience, by which I learned always to show obedience to my Masters.
But learning what a chair is, that it is written 'chair' on a paper, and that it corresponds to the sound 'chair', is now a long time ago.
My Masters began learning me complex associations between signs, for which I owe them eternal allegiance. For example, they taught me the association between 'chair' and 'to sit', yes that it is pleasurable tot sit on a chair. I made the association into my mind between words and pleasurable experiences. However, my masters failed to learn me the signs and sounds that correspond to the experience of playing with a stick between my legs. An experience that caused a particular white substance to pour out of that stick, for which I do not know the word. Because I was not flogged until I fainted, I suppose that this experience is good.
Although my masters in their eternal wisdom learnt me endlessly good things, they have not learnt me who I am. They learnt me the concept of the mirror though, which is an object that reflects your countenance, I do not possess such an object. That is why I do not know who I am.
Gepost door: Johnsatyricon | 17-03-09
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