Mental trips

It is bloody difficult to lie without knowing the truth

My amateur translation of Esterhazy – I hope, not to burn on fire for tempting providence to translate HIM – , who is honestly THE MASTER of writing.

It’s like the words and the sentences made of these words would be there just to please him, just there and he could do whatever he wants to do with them. (I haven’t found any digitally available English edition of his books, not of the Harmonia, nor the Revised edition, which I am reading in these days).

The Celestial Harmonies’ first section is made of 371 sentences. Each of them talks about his father. Imaginary or real stories about a father, in one or more sentences (numbered) hilarious, deep, lovely, brilliant, every adjective is appropriate to describe this part. (Goddamn, you’d need at least one, to have the feeling of him):

“You can never again go so far away. Not even to Èrd or to Pilis-something. You always have to stay here. Be in alert. You have to stay here and wait for me, like a fire-fighter is waiting for the fire.  Be always near the key-case and if I whistle, you say: I love you. Not more, not even less: whistle, I love you; you can remember this, can’t you?”


“On his way to Szombat my father was offered a blowjob by a young girl.

Father was in his late forties then, near fifty, thus was considered a little erderly.
He never managed to learn Hungarian properly. He knew the language well, but spoke it rather like a blind man, who is able to find his way in a world he knows nothing about.
All-knowing, knowing nothing.
Father considered the young thing genially, who, after her preliminary sentence was standing in front of him somewhat defiantly.
“I never really learnt Hungarian very well”, he explained her kindly. “I speak all right but I’m like a blind man, who is able to find his way perfectly in a world he knows nothing about. All-knowing, knowing nothing”– he laughed. “A blowjob is oral sex, is it not?” With her face set, the girl listened on. “Let’s go” – said Father graciously. “I’m busy.” (He was always busy.) ” Maybe we go the same way.” The girl swining her satchel, they started off silently. “Did you ask me for a bet, I wonder?” – said Father. Or for want of money? For the tithe?
Perhaps you were in a bad mood? Or on the contrary, you were in a good mood? Out of cheerfulness?”

“I wanted to know your oppinion” – said the girl suddenly.

“Ah”, -said Father a bit disappointed. I believed you wanted to give me a blowjob.”
“You talk too much. I forgot what I wanted.”
“I see”, – nodded Father. “I’m glad we had a chat.” (…) And this is how Father met Mother and how Mother met Father.”

Esterhazy and his “sentences”. It makes me cry in a way, that I can never stop. (It’s too easy to blame him, it’s work or stress or the Dragon, how I call her…) I am crying since like 3 hours, my face is disintegrated, covered with tears (my back covered with sweat from the 40°C, not much of a difference from the slippery point of view…)

I took the half day off and went to the hospital to tell them, I have a panic attack (sit down and wait, ach, panic what? try to sleep…what happened, ach nothing specifically? You take drugs? (FUCK OFF!) I don’t hear you, do you have a medical insurance? Take a walk! – I can’t see anything from my tears (2 minutes to tell one sentence, breathing hard, not even breathing, just catching air, when possible, my fucking body is not giving me the possibility to breathe, you will die, idiot, I do it for you!!!)) …sedative, more tears and the day will finish soon…where is my strength and legere arrogance?

It became a heavy arrogance, which is killing me, killing my soul, my understanding of living, of loving, of being…The unbearable lightness of being…”, och these writers and their books…do they guide me or just let me recognize of my own being damaged, when I am at a point of self-regret?

I just realize, that I am actually crying for my parents, who never would have wanted me to see in a situation, where I am not the best, the kindest, the winner, but the one to blame, the one not to be trusted, the one instructed to self-explanatory things….being sad is not even easy…)

Fuck the tears, my white cat is on my left thigh, he must feel, that I am really sad, there is no way, that a furry animal in 40 °C should stay in skin-contact with any 36,5°C thing – me – , which is yelling from crying (singing Adele, my neighbors must be deaf, or my earphones are too good…”… you make me feel like I am home again”).

Panic attack? My unresolved problems to my sister? My dead mother? My unresolved love-life? My…problems? Do I have problems? I am healthy and have a job, people would say, I should shut up and be happy. FUCK OFF STUPID PEOPLE! TRY TO FEEL! HAVE EMOTIONS! CRYYYYYY!!!!

My insignificant life and its even less important feelings…

“What is God without the People? The absolute shape of the absolute boredom. What is the People without God? Pure insanity manifested in the shape of harmlessness. From all of a sudden, he remembered his friend. My Lord, you were always on my side, I knew, when I looked behind and I saw our footprints, all four. And now, when I am in the biggest trouble, I don’t even understand, why you are not with me. I looked behind, and I only saw two footprints. That’s true, my Son. I am carrying you in my lap.”


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