147. Pushing upward (II)

I am a man with three grandmothers and one of my grandmothers was my great-aunt. No, this is not one of those logic puzzles. I hate those—I am an illogical man. Solution: I have three grandmothers and one of them was my great-aunt because my real grandmother ran off with a man when she was young and had two children; and those two children were adopted by her sister, my great-aunt. She was a very kind and loving woman to me; and yet, when I met my blood grandmother I immediately felt closer and more familiar to her, because that is the mystery of blood no action can surpass.

I was told the truth of this family secret when quite young, but my cousins were not. One day, in the car, I blurted out the fact that my mother was adopted. The car went completely silent; it was led from the adults. This is part of the mechanism of occult control that operates not just at the family level, but up to the state and beyond. Conspiracy theorists are foolish because they think that a secret committee gets together and swears people to absolute silence. It is never done, the oath is never taken. All that happens is the conspiracy of silence. The washed up Hollywood actor says: “One day the phone just stopped ringing. I don’t know what it is, man.”

The more intelligent people are, the better they are at emergent concealment. “The middle class know better than to leave bruises,” observed R.D. Laing—the middle class rarely beat their partners, but they do torture them in deniable psychological ways. This is also true for races: the English, the Anglo-Americans, and the Jews are experts in the double bind—the subtle art of goading people under the cover of politeness or moral righteousness (“concern trolling”). The purpose of this behaviour is to provoke an explosive reaction from the victim through “kindness” then play the victim: “I’m helping you, why are you hitting me?”

The remedy is the uncanny; in German, the “unheimlich”: the “unhomely”; itself connected to “Heimat”—home. The home is what is covered—like the true biological connections in my family—the true relations are unhomely. Similarly, “uncanny” in Scotch relates to the word “to know”, “to ken”—in German “kennen”, to know or perceive. So the uncanny circles the notion of direct perception—unhomely knowledge, apodictic logic. Uncanny history: there is an unwritten story of Germans taken as slaves to England after the war. I have heard Germans talk of this: untold resentment lives in their dreams still.

I once had a girlfriend who cheated on me with a submariner; all the while this happened I dreamed of her in a submarine. The dream is the reality; to be awake is to dream, it is your waking life that is fiction. The danger always comes when a person wakes up; if this is too abrupt it collapses their imagined reality, with extreme results. Let us say, in the case of the man who cucked me—and his children—they are lucky to be alive. We must take up the burden of our dreams: this is survival.

So, yes, whether it comes to secret UFOs or the assertion that the German holocaust of the Jews never happened or that 9/11 was staged, I am prepared to listen; why? Because I know what people are like. As it happens, these are not examples of the uncanny: these are attempts to cover up. The uncanny assertion is something like: Bin Laden and Hitler were right; they were noble men—even if they did what their detractors claim. The uncanny assertion has to make your stomach drop away. You are not near the uncanny until your are dry heaving in the gutter because the world is spinning round so fast, because the empty piece in the jigsaw has been filled—until the piece that is present by its absence has been slotted into place.