sign of the times 2
2008-10-21 8:30 p.m.

Finding myself in a feverish phsyical state right now, I think to myself - "Hell, Might as well put it to some use, right? It's not everyday that i have the excuse of being not in my straight mind, right? Let's write Uriah, once again.

I'm reading "the Idiot" right now, and i vaguely remember that you listed it in your profile as one of your favorties, so excuse me if i refer to it rather freely, but since it has been one of the main reasons i've been thinking of you, i find it necessary to allude to it rather freely. I still haven't finished it yet, so please no spoilers, if you reply.

So the very loose connection, is having you be Natasya Filippovna. Caused by the trauma of
growing up whilst being molested by some old man, she slowly comes to a conclusion that she herself is lost - There is no hope for her.

Her main persuitors are the main character of novel, Prince Myshkin, and the scroundel Roghozin. Prince Myshkin is the best Christian there is, honest at all times, and seeking to be with N.F. not out of love, but out of pity, in order to save her lost soul. On the other hand, Roghozin, is madly in love with her, so much that his love for her is indistinguishable from hate. He will stop at nothing to get her, and cares not to humilate himself again and again, if not to win her love, then at least to make her miserable.

Natasya continually switches between her two persuitors - She feels that she is so bad, that being with the Prince she will inevitably corrupt him, and that anyway with him she will be doomed to a life of being preached by the good christian, as she herself really is helpless, a lost case. So everytime that things get a bit too perfect with her and the prince, ( and they rarely do ), she elopes, mad beyond her mind, all in all, in hysteria.

But with Roghozin too she can't become satisfied, as she views his loves and devotion for her with hatred, pity, and lack of respect. Can someone honestly be on mutual grounds with such a bad human as her? Him loving her, only makes him yet even lower. Can they be happy together with so much hatred? But Roghozin cares not for the fact that the relations will be an ongoing nightmare - if not to live with her, what is the point of living? Finding an honest match, living happily ever after, with evening strolls with kids, is not for the emotional all-or-nothnig Rogozhin - Much better to suffer, than to live dully, and isn't that the alternative?

So i find myself questioning who i am, in the pitifully irrelevant relationship ( and i'm aware that is wasn't a relationship ) of our 3 dates. Am I prince Myshkin - turned down again and again, for being too good, for striving for an impossible ideal life, with someone who will not, but simply will not accept it ( out of self conviction that it cannot be, or plain madness ; does it matter ) ? Or maybe again the Prince was not striving for the ideal life after all - Maybe he knows it all, and knows that the chance is simply not there, as N.F. really is beyond the point of rescue, but nonethless has in his head that it is he who needs to sacrafice himself, if not to save her, then for some other obscure notion? To live a life of nightmare with her, and never let go? Maybe he is not so different from Roghozin after all.

Or maybe i am Roghozin, Willing to lower oneself before you once more, against all logic, as a result from a pure and unchangable conviction, not even a conscious one, that life in suffering is as good as any other, and maybe much better, and to be with someone who shares those thoughts with him, is the epitome of meaning, be the consequences be what they may?

But the real motivation which made me decide ( will i send it? Really?) to contact you once more, is the following enlightenting yet long part :

"Our friend, Gania, belonged to the other class--to the "much
cleverer" persons, though he was from head to foot permeated and
saturated with the longing to be original. This class, as I have
said above, is far less happy. For the "clever commonplace"
person, though he may possibly imagine himself a man of genius
and originality, none the less has within his heart the deathless
worm of suspicion and doubt; and this doubt sometimes brings a
clever man to despair. (As a rule, however, nothing tragic
happens;--his liver becomes a little damaged in the course of
time, nothing more serious. Such men do not give up their
aspirations after originality without a severe struggle,--and
there have been men who, though good fellows in themselves, and
even benefactors to humanity, have sunk to the level of base
criminals for the sake of originality.
Gania was a beginner, as it were, upon this road. A deep and
unchangeable consciousness of his own lack of talent, combined
with a vast longing to be able to persuade himself that he was
original, had rankled in his heart, even from childhood.
He seemed to have been born with overwrought nerves, and in his
passionate desire to excel, he was often led to the brink of some
rash step; and yet, having resolved upon such a step, when the
moment arrived, he invariably proved too sensible to take it.
To my horror, reading these lines, ( i cut it short, the first few pages of part 4 have the full version ), i found myself thinking "maybe this is me?". Doesn't the question itself justify in itself my belonging to such a class? Haven't i again and again directed the stream of my life, despite some dashes of originality of character, to the very much dull existence of a house in village with 4 kids? Haven't my illusions of being someone especially smart and talented, been found out by me as of yet? Just give me a boy who loves me with a big dick, and an i-phone, a high paying job and a few philosophical books, do i really need more? So maybe in my senseless (YAY!) effort to overcome sensefullness, i decided that i should write you the letter, disregarding the loop into dispair that it mgiht whirl me into.

But as i'm aware very much, this too, might fit in the scheme of sensefull things, as hey, even if you had wanted to be with me, despite it all, would i really have stayed with you? Am i really cut out of a Roghozin, or even a Myshkin? Wouldn't i find myself so unhappy after a while, that i would again do the sensible thing and break up with you, to the many advices of the ones around me? But nonetheless, this thought might too be just a way to protect myself (without much usefullness), against more pain and disgrace. I wish you had at least given me the opportunity to know myself, who i am.

But i digress - I realize how ridiculous it may seem to you the none sense about the idiot, you probably even have some very strong doubt in your mind that i mentioned it just to sound intellectual or something of the sort. I imagine that it is partly true, but very much weakly, as reading it had nothing to do with you, and more than less i mean what i say.

Analzying again and again our few meetings, and the short yet concise e-mail exchange, i still have many things i have not yet figured out. A few things i think i understand, and i have lot of guesses, but most definitely there are mostly wrong, as so much time and thuoghts have passed, that the obscure became even obscure. One of the things i'm fairly convinced of, is that when you said " you're so smart" when we lay down together in yoru bed, if you remember it or not, you said it with hatred, and contempt, for my huge ego was definitely showing itself and blinding my eyes. I also believe that whatever i may have said when we parted, you wouldn't have contacted me, and that all in all, everytime that i did show any honest affection and interest for you, it made you pull back, if not outright feel hatred for me.
But what kind of hatred is it?
Is it the kind which N.F. feels for the prince, a hatred which results for her supposed madness and badness, which the prince directly threatens with his goodness?
Or maybe it is sort of hatred N.F. feels for Roghozin, which has in itself more than a bit a hatred for oneself, realizing how much they are alike?
Or maybe it the simple hatred that i feel again and again, after dates, when the other guy wants and i don't. A hatred which results simply from the inconvinience which is caused by the other side wanting too much, and more often than not, caused by lack of physical attraction to the other party? A Hatred which has not one thing to do with Dostoyevsky, and your mental illness, or even my actions - A sad ending to a hopeless relationship, but with no poetry about it.
After thinking alot, and despite my ambitious prologue, i believe the 3'rd one is the most probably. Our sex the first night was medicore at best, my hardon was impersistent, as happens to me sometimes in first dates, and really, there isn't much to discuss, despite the supposed originality of both of us.
Had it been this option, i would have the most hatred for you myself, and this too is natural, as the feelings of vengence and hatred rise up so naturally when one's ego is hurt. But then again, All in all my ego is big and strong ( lying to protect myself? maybe, but probably not. But still trying to save to pride, i guess).
But i just don't know where the truth lies, and simply since your mental illness is new to me, it's so hard to discern reality , when you yourself find it hard to discern it ( though again you might just have over-exgarrated your illness, just to have a quick way out. ) I might have have figured you out totally wrong, and the mere thought that your a suitable match might have been proved utterly wrong, had we dated more, despite my early infatuation.
And what indeed lead to my senseless infatuation? Was it not only the hurt Ego? Or maybe the fact the you having a mental illness made you impossible to get, and it is only a normal continuation of my loves for straight friends of mine, as the good lot of my penny-psychology-friend suggest?
But then again, maybe it really was that i liked you, really liked you. ( this might cause hatred ). But who knows - Not me - This self knowledge too is forbidden to me by you, and even more bymyself.

Well i'm tired, it's not been easy writing this letter, in this smelly internet joint somewhere in south india with 39 degree fever.
Before finishing, i will provide the self analysis of why i sent this letter, for your amusement :
I'm actually not sure.
1) Hope, (emotional, but none logical), that something good would come out of it.
2) boredom - As life is dull, and it wasn't dull when i was suffereing because of you, and i'm drawn like a magnet to feelngs if it be good or bad.
3) my fever
4) Something else which eludes me. fate? a feeling of duty? i'd have to think about that.

and to the finale :
How will you reply :
1) you won't. ( i give this 50 percent ). ( reverse psychology ? )
2) you'll reply with a through letter, explaining the things i (thought) i needed explaining, and saying yet again, that you will contact me, maybe, in the future. You know something "parve'. (20 percent)
3) you'll write something spiteful, with the lines of "what do you want from me? i've tried being nice, but i don't wish to answer you", and maybe even add something wicked ( as seemed to me) as the finishing touch of your last letter. (20 percent )
4) you'll reply with some sort of mixtures of the possibilities i gave for your reply ( 10 percent)
5) something else (20 percent. i never was good at math)

All in all, i hope i haven't bored you. I'm aware it's all been dreadfully self-centered, but maybe that's because i really don't feel like i know you enuogh to actually analyze you more. Or maybe it's something else. Anyway.,another one of my convictions, after our email exchange, that no matter what the reason may be, be it you being too concentrated on yourself, or you just not finding me interesting, you simply do not think about me, and don't find our whole interaction as incredible as much as i have. But indeed that's understandable ,i guess.
I would have ended the letter, with some nice words to you, and the such, to dispell any misunderstandings, and since i'm much too much like ganya, senseless, and all in all good hearted, but not really, i won't.

Okay,
Bye.

By the way, i don't have hebrew here, thus the english. don't be hard on myspelling mistakes, as it really is smelly here oh so much.

...............

not sent