Of vampires, other parasites, and Dr. Freud (or those mind guerillas forever)

Vampires — Near Dark (1987). If you’ve watched the imho not very enjoyable Netflix’s Black Mirror Bandersnatch you will have noticed that one of the options is between a band that was completely strange to me and Tangerine Dreams, which it wasn’t (entirely). I felt curious afterwards about it and found out that they had written the score for a sizable amount of films. Spoilers ahead.

Near Dark does a remarkable job at portraying the misery that eternal life would ensure, in whatever form it would take, be celestial or infernal. In addition, it contains one of the most sensual scenes I’ve ever seen on the big screen, which it takes you by surprise —no fanfare and the not at all romantic music by the Tangerines in the background.

Other parasites — Thief (1981). A bigger musical score here, and quite good by the way. Thief is about the honest life of a good dishonest man. It’s also about independence of character and the perils of persuasion. Frank knows that the ultimate way to freedom is truth and to get rid of every thing you care for —your life being the last of them.

Dr. Freud — I came across the John Lennon’s interview for Playboy that took place in 1980. I don’t know whether his explanations of Paul’s and George’s actions are accurate or not, spiteful or not, but I know that he’s right to go beyond appearances and try to find the truth in the underlying motives —the subconscious. Because it’s not anywhere. Discard therapy and all the nonsense, but if you don’t see the world in terms of  repressed emotions and a never-ending quietly violent conflict between eros (the need to live) and thanatos (the wish to die) that entirely takes place in anybody’s mind, you won’t be able to understand either society or people, and worse, you won’t have a clue neither about why you behave the way you do.

And Lennon —you may like the guy or not, but he was determined to be in command of himself and of his life, and that’s something not everybody is able to say about themselves.

Perquè la por de la mordassa és també una forma de mordassa

En comptes d’arguments, empren mordasses; posen mordasses als seus contradictors. Ells no són els primers a fer-ho; ni seran els últims, per desgràcia. Fan callar. Això és més fàcil i més segur que no pas discutir i refutar. Saben que no tenen raó, i per tant, no volen embrancarse en raons, en raonaments. Només se senten tranquils quan han reduït els altres a silenci. Si fos per vigilar la malícia tèrbola o la protesta sense justificació, no triarien aquest mitjà: una mentida, en última instància, no costa gens de desmentir, i els clamors banals es desinflen al cap de cinc minuts. No és per això. Temen unes altres coses. I la solució consisteix a tancar les boques propenses a insolentar-se. Enmig d’aquest mutisme, encara, la veu d’ells fa més efecte; sembla créixer en autoritat. Monologuen, endoctrinen, prediquen, auguren. I la multitud es converteix en auditori forçós de la seva constant perorata. No tothom és capaç de tapar-se les orelles. A la llarga, certament, ningú no en fa cas; però sempre s’hi filtra alguna cosa, hi penetra, contamina. Els altres callen, emmordasats o no. Perquè la por de la mordassa és també una forma de mordassa. Hi ha, en l’aire, gairebé visible, molta còlera reprimida. Les paraules no dites, els crits ofegats, es trasmuden en ira. Com que ells ho saben, arriben a la conclusió que han fet ben fet: “Sort de la mordassa!”, pensen.

Joan Fuster, Indagacions i propostes.

I això està escrit el 1958. El pobre bon Fuster no sé què escriuria ara mateix, si veiés això: I need some muscle over here. Ni altres de les tantes coses que ens van fent petits, covards, dèbils i indignes com a sers humans.

The Heart of the Matter

‘It seems a very good plan to me,’ Wilson said.

‘My plans always start out well,’ Scobie said.

From the title’s novel by Graham Greene.


I wonder why you came out here,’ Scobie said. ‘You aren’t the type.’

‘One drifts into things,’ Wilson lied.

‘I don’t,’ Scobie said, ‘I’ve always been a planner. You see, I even plan for other people.’

Straussian we go

What we thought to be the end of history, that final civilization based upon freedom, reason, justice, equality, and peace, that we thought we were finally reaching after the collapse of the Communist monstrosity, made by and for individuals equal in dignity and legal status, commited to truth and respect for each other’s rights, whose people were corageous enough to accept their own responsibilities in life and willing to live plentifully and if not bravely at least without fear, in which dissidence was not only not banned but encouraged as a means to progress and ever-lasting freedom,

Let’s face it —far from being the end of anything, it has wound up being a singularity, a mere historic anomaly. A bluff.

Those of us who have been lucky enough to have lived part of our lives there are the same who are the most regretting about its failure. The thrill of living, of risking, of freethinking, of arguing, of being true to ourselves and honest to the other people —all that is gone.

Welcome again to orthodoxy, sex discrimination (for males this time), thought control, submission, and fear. The state is overwhelming —is back.

So we’ll hide, like our ancestors had to. Perhaps not physically, but all in other ways. And we’ll fight. We’ll comply only formally to get our censors tricked so our works are allowed to circulate, but we’ll speak to each other —the seldom ones who are in for liberty, I mean, and don’t be so sure you are one of them— writing and reading between lines, covertly, precariously —but thrillingly again. That’s the way Straussian meant in the title of this post. We’ll form a small society that way, but it’ll be the one who’ll end up subverting the larger one —again.

I invite you to join if you want and start training yourself in Straussian ways with, for instance, that Impulse YouTube’s original content to know what I mean.