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the Zen and the Art of motorcycle maintenance
lo Zen e l'Arte della manutenzione della motocicletta
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14th-Dec-2005 06:39 pm - le cose succedono, things happen
fatty arbuckle
ouch ouch
my connection issuses, and also my very little spare time, are steationary for now
sometimes happens a few thinghs, maybe, about that i like to record notes
last week there were the Nobel Prize's giving cerimony, in Stockolm, and the Licterature one was given to Harold Pinter, i think everyone knows who is the father of the "Theatre of Manace", involved in preserving Human Rights for a long while.
He could not leave London hospital to get to Stockolm and get the Prize, so he sended a very interesting video messagge,
about his idea of theatre, truth, and so, for me was interesting also in our idea of Quality, so i thougth to post here a trascription of his speach, also because in my country most of mass media totally ignored this event. i was working on other stuff to pubblish here, but i have not finished them yet. I partially traslated in italian the english complete speach, and i'll post both of them in this entry...

i miei problemi di connettività e soprattutto di disponibilità di tempo sono ancora stazionari
ogni tanto succedono alcune cose, magari, di cui mi piace prender nota
la settimana scorsa c'è stata la consegna dei premi Nobel a Stoccolma, e quello per la letteratura è andato ad Harold Pinter, immagino tutti voi sappiate perfettamente che sia il padre del Teatro dell Minaccia, da sempre impegnato, inoltre, nella lotta per la difesa dei diritti umani. Impossibilitato a recarsi a Stoccolma, ha mandato alla cerimonia un messaggio video molto interessante, a proposito della sua idea del teatro, di verità, e quindi, indirettamente anche alla nostra idea di Qualità, così ho pensato di trascriverlo qui, dato che, soprattutto, mi è sembrato che i mass media del nostro paese abbiano totalmete ignorato questo evento. Stavo preparand altre cose da pubblicare, ma non le ho ancora finite. L'ho tradotto solo in parte nella mia lingua madre, e le incollerò entrambe ...

Art, truth and politics
This is the text of the lecture to be given by Harold Pinter when he receives the 2005 Nobel prize for literature on Saturday. Forbidden by doctors from going to Stockholm to receive the £720,000 prize, the ailing playwright and poet has delivered his speech by video

Harold Pinter
Wednesday December 7, 2005

In 1958 I wrote the following: 'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.' I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the
exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false? Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.
I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.
Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me. The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The first line of Old Times is 'Dark.' In each case I had no further information.
In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or about the questioner either, for that matter. 'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light.
I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C. In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at the time, our beginnings never know our ends.
'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her back to them, her hair dark.
It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort.
So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time. But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.
Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is its proper function.
In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before finally focussing on an act of subjugation.
Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, on and on, hour after hour.
Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others. But as they died, she must die too.
Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.
As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for
the atrocity in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true. The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do with how the United States understands its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.
But before I come back to the present I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will allow here.
Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully documented and verified.
But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte
blanche to do what it liked.
Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the
gangrene bloom. When the populace has been subdued - or beaten to death - the same thing - and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.
The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view of its role in the world, both then and now. I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the late 1980s. The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this
delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the parish. They destroyed
everything: the school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist activity.'
Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch. Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.
Finally somebody said: 'But in this case "innocent people" were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign state?' Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,' he said. As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed my plays. I did not reply.
I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.' The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking popular revolution. The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised. They set out to establish a
stable, decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a free health service.
Infant mortality was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated.
The United States denounced these achievements as Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise the standards of health care and education and achieve social unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance to the status quo in El Salvador.
I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United States had brought down the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.
Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed because they believed a better life was possible and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists. They died because they dared to question the status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright.
The United States finally brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had prevailed.
But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened. The United States supported and in many cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the
Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and can never be forgiven.
Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did take place and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But you wouldn't know it. It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has
exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.
I put to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on television say the words, 'the American people', as in the sentence, 'I say to the American
people it is time to pray and to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the American people to trust their president in the action he is about to take on behalf of the American people.'
It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, which extends across the US.
The United States no longer bothers about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.
What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three years, with no legal representation or due process, technically detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think
about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally - a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What has the
British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.
The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East
masquerading - as a last resort - all other justifications having failed to justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people. We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.
How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.
Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy Franks.
Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.
The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves.
Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm Explaining a Few Things':

And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate.
Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives.
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain:
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land.
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
in the streets! *

Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing of civilians.
I have said earlier that the United States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all attendant resources.
The United States now occupies 702 military installations throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there but they are there all right. The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity - the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is at the heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.
Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a coherent political force - yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States is unlikely to diminish.
I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I propose the following short address which he can make on television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.
'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And don't you forget it.'
A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.
I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'.

Where was the dead body found?
Who found the dead body?
Was the dead body dead when found?
How was the dead body found?
Who was the dead body?
Who was the father or daughter or brother
Or uncle or sister or mother or son
Of the dead and abandoned body?
Was the body dead when abandoned?
Was the body abandoned?
By whom had it been abandoned?

Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey?
What made you declare the dead body dead?
Did you declare the dead body dead?
How well did you know the dead body?
How did you know the dead body was dead?
Did you wash the dead body
Did you close both its eyes
Did you bury the body
Did you leave it abandoned
Did you kiss the dead body

When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror - for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth stares at us.
I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. It is in fact mandatory. If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us - the dignity of man.

* Extract from "I'm Explaining a Few Things" translated by Nathaniel Tarn, from
Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems, published by Jonathan Cape, London 1970. Used by
permission of The Random House Group Limited.
© The Nobel Foundation 2005

Harold Pinter, mercoledì 7 Dicembre 2005-12-13

Nel 1958 scrissi ciò che segue: “Non esistono forti distinzioni fra ciò che è reale e ciò che è inreale, e nemmeno fra ciò che vero e ciò che è falso. Una cosa non è necessariamente o vera, o falsa; può essere entrambe, sia vera che falsa.” Credo che queste affermazioni abbiano ancora senso, e si possano ancora applicare all’esplorazione della realtà attraverso l’arte. Così, in qualità di scrittore, resto fedele a quanto ho detto, ma come cittadino, io non posso. Come cittadino è mio dovere chiedere: che cosa è vero? Che cosa è falso? La verità in teatro è ogni volta elusiva. Men che mai riuscirai a trovarla, ma la ricerca della verità è compulsiva. La sua ricerca è ciò che ti guida nel tentare. La ricerca è il tuo compito. Più spesso di quanto tu te ne accorga, inciampi al buio nella verità, ci vai a sbattere, oppure, e soltanto, vedi di sfuggita un’immagine o una forma, che sembrano corrispondere alla verità, sovente senza accorgerti di quello che hai fatto. Ma l’unica verità è che non ci sarà mai una cosa come una unica verità da trovare, nell’arte della rappresentazione. Ce ne sono tante. Queste verità competono l’un l’altra, si evitano l’un l’altra, si riflettono l’un l’altra, si ignorano l’un l’altra, si stimolano l’un l’altra, e sono cieche l’una alla vista dell’altra. A volte senti di avere la verità di un momento sul palmo della tua mano, e allora ti sfugge fra le dita, e si perde.[…]
Il linguaggio della politica, parlato dai politici, non si è mai avventurato in nessuno di questi territori, dato che la maggioranza dei politici, con l’evidenza che tutti noi possiamo accertare, non sono interessati alla verità, ma nel potere e nel mantenimento del potere. Per il mantenimento del potere è necessario che le persone restino nell’ignoranza, che vivano nell’ignoranza della verità, anche della verità ultima delle loro stesse vite. Ciò che ci circonda è, perciò, un vasto arazzo di bugie, del quale ci pasturiamo.
Come tutte le persone qui presenti sapranno, la giustificazione per l’invasione dell’Iraq era quella che Saddam Hussein fosse in possesso un terribile quantitativo di armi di distruzione di massa, alcune delle quali sarebbero potute essere sparate in 45 minuti. Ci era stato garantito che fosse vero. Non era vero. Ci era stato detto che l’Iraq avesse rapporti con Al Quaeda e condividesse con questa la responsabilità delle atrocità dell’undici settembre. Ci era stato garantito che fosse vero. Non era vero. Ci era stato detto di come l’Iraq compromettesse la sicurezza dell’ordine mondiale. Ci era stato garantito che fosse vero. Non era vero. La verità è qualcosa di completamente diverso. La verità è qualcosa di completamente diverso. La verità ha a che fare con come gli Stati Uniti comcepiscono il loro ruolo nel mondo e in come decidono di impersonarlo.[…] Tutti conoscono ciò che successe in Unione Sovietica e attraverso tutta l’Europa dell’Est nel periodo successivo alla Seconda Guerra Mondiale: la brutalità sistematica, le atrocità diffuse, la spietata soppressione del libero pensiero. Tutto questo è completamente documentato e verificato.
Ma è mia opinione che dei crimini commessi dagli U.S.A. nello stesso periodo siano stati descritti soltanto superficialmente, abbandonati a se stessi nell’essere documentati, conosciuti, e riconosciuti come crimini a tutti gli effetti. Io credo che a questo dovremmo dedicarci, e che la verità abbia considerevolmente a che fare con dove il mondo si trovi in questo momento. Anche se forzati, in una qualche misura, dall’esistenza dell’Unione Sovietica, gli atti che sono stati compiuti dagli Stati Uniti nel resto del mondo, rendono evidente di come questi abbiano dedotto di aver carta bianca per poter fare tutto ciò che gli pare.
L’invasione diretta di uno stato sovrano nn è mai stata in effetti uno dei metodi preferiti dall’America. Principalmente è stato preferito quello che loro stessi descrivono come “conflitto di bassa intensità”. Conflitto di bassa intensità significa che migliaia di persone muoiono, ma più lentamente che sganciando su di loro bombe in un bombardamento a sorpresa. Significa infettare il cuore di una nazione, innestarci un cancro, mettersi a guardare la cancrena germogliarci dentro. Quando la popolazione è stata sottomessa – o colpita a morte – non è rilevante, fa lo stesso – i tuoi stessi amici, i militari e le grandi corporation, siedono confortabilmente al potere, vai davanti alle telecamere e annunci che è prevalsa la democrazia. Questo era un luogo comune della politica estera degli U.S.A. negli anni a cui mi riferisco.[…]
Ma questa “politica” non si è limitata solo all’America Centrale. È stata sostenuta nel resto del mondo. È stata senza fine. Ed è come se tutto questo on fosse mai successo. Gli Stati Uniti hanno sostenuto e in molti casi prodotto ogni dittatura militare di destra nel mondo, dalla fine della Seconda Guerra Mondiale in poi. Mi riferisco a: Indonesia, Grecia, Uruguay, Brasile, Paraguay, Haiti, Turchia, Filippine, Guatemala, El Salvador, e, naturalmente Cile. L’orrore che gli Stati Uniti hanno imposto al Cile nel 1973 non potrà mai essere espiato e non potra mai essere perdonato.[…]
Quando ci guardiamo allo specchio crediamo che l’immagine che abbiamo di fronte sia un’immagine accurata. Ma muovedoci anche solo di un millimetro l’immagine cambia. Stiamo di fatto guardando una varietà senza fine di riflessi. Ma alcune volte uno scrittore deve infrangere lo specchio – poiché è dall’altra parte dello specchio che la verità ci sta a guardare.
Credo che, nonostante tutte le enormi disparità che esistono, l’irrevocabile, inamovibile, feroce determinazione intellettuale, come cittadini, a definire la cruda realtà delle nostre vite e delle nostre società, sia un obbligo cruciale che spetti ad ognuno di noi. È di fatto un mandato. Se una tale determinazione non trova spazio nella nostra visione politica, noi non abbiamo nessuna speranza di ristabilire ciò che siamo così vicini dal perdere – la dignità di esseri umani.
19th-Nov-2005 12:37 pm - err... youh...ops
fatty arbuckle
i'm having some problems in administrating and posting because i'm having problems with my adsl connection, and my telephone line either, and i'm working to resolve them
but nothing take effects on burocracy... so be patient,
i'm also working on some stuff offline, to post it..
meanwhile you can post any discussion you wan to,
i'll be back soon..

sto avendo dei problemi nell'amministrare e nel postare perchè sto avendo problemi con la mia linea adsl e pure con la mia linea telefonica, sto faticando per riuscire a risolverli
ma niente può fare qualcosa di concreto contro la burocrazia... così, siate pazienti, io cerco di preparare alcune cose offline, da mettere...
nel frattempo sentitevi liberi di postare tutto quello che volete, come disse una volta arnold swarzenhegger, I'LL be BACK SOON...

fatty arbuckle
ok, ok, let's make it simple...

why have i started a community, if i'm just me, writing here about now?
-because i thought it was an easy way to start a sort of forum

is it a forum restrictively about engines, techincal stuff, motorcycing and other annoying feeling-less things?
-sure, not. on the opposite, is a forum about feelings, the quest of happines, a better living. i started with the idea of talking about zen and other stuff, but i'd like to use, and let all of you use this place, as a place to post about thinghs that are giving us vibrations, a place to leave impressions about nowadays everyday living, about books, movies, music, to talk about food we enjoyed, and romantic places where to eat. you can post reviews, or similar things, but they heve to be yours, you may have already post it anywhere else before, but they have to be yours. all is about looking for QUALITY.

is a sort of "everyone allowed" club?
-no, i think it's more similar to a "everyone allowed but me" club. i chosed "moderated membership" just a simple formality, because i think, for now, everyone who want to, will be an allowed member, just request; to post something you don't need to be a member, and entries are not moderated, so they appear immediately. obviously, i'll check for offensive materials, to put them into the bin. and i'll be very tolerant...

what's the meaning of the word QUALITY i'm using every times?
-we are tryng to discover it. robert pirsig wrote his book also about it, so it isn't easy to explain it in a few words, so maybe it will be better not to explain it at all.
mainly it something between the subject and object, that deals with the way subject can perceive the object, and the way object can influence on subject. but the idea is not so simple, it mainly consist on the fact that you can define QUALITY one time and for all, forever, the fact that is not a sort of box where you can cage the real floating essence of Being, but you can alway find your path to quality in the activity of looking deeper for it, in your life and the live of those who are living next to you...

give me an example...
-soon i'll be writing for it...

okey okey, facciamola breve...

perchè ho dato il via ad una community, se ci sono soltanto io a scrivere in questo momento?
-perchè cercavo un modo semplice di avviare una specie di forum

è un forum esclusivamente incentrato sui motori, robaccia tecnica, andare in moto o altre cose prive di sentimenti?
-ovvio che no. al contrario, è un forum a proposito delle emozioni, la ricerca della felicità, e una vita migliore. avevo incominciato con l'idea di parlare di zen e delle altre cose, ma mi piacerebbe usare questo posto, e lasciare che voi possiate usarlo, come un posto dove postare a proposito delle cose che ci danno vibrazioni, un posto dove lasciare impressioni sulla vita di tutti i giorni in questi nostri tempi, sui libri, i film e la musica, per chiaccherare del cibo che ci siamo goduti, e dei posti romantici dove possiamo mangiare. potete appiccicare recenzioni, o cose di simil fatta, ma l'importante è che siano vostre, potete anche averle già pubblicate da qualsiasi altra parte, ma l'importante e che siano vostre. tutto per quello che riguarda la ricerca della QUALITA'.

è una spece di club del "è permesso a tutti"?
-no, credo sia più simile ad un club del "è permesso a tutti tranne che a me". ho scelto "moderated membership" per una pusa formalità, perchè credo, per ora, che chiunque voglia possa diventare un membro a tutti gli effetti, basta chiedere; per pubblicare qualcosa non hai bisogno di essere un membro, e le entries non sono preventivamente moderate, così appaiono al momento dellla loro pubblicazione. ovviamente, controllerò la presenza di materiale potenzilmente offensivo, per cestinarlo. ma sono un tipo molto paziente che difficilmente si offende...

che cosa significa la parola QUALITA' di cui vai costantemente riempendoti la bocca?
-siamo qui per tentare di scoprirlo assieme. robert pirsig ha scritto il suo libro in buona parte su questo, così non è facile spiegarlo in poche parole, così forse sarebbe meglio non spiegarlo affatto.
principalmente si tratta di qualcosa che sta fra oggetto e soggetto, che ha a che fare con i modi in cui il soggetto può percepire l'oggetto, e i modi in cui l'oggetto può arrivare a d influenzare il soggetto. ma l'idea non è così semplice, e consiste principalmente sul fatto che tu non possa definire la QUALITA' una volta per tutte, e per sempre, sul fatto di come essa non sia una scatola chiusa in cui tu possa ingabbiare la vera fluttuante essenza dell'Essere, ma che tu possa trovare la tua strada verso la qualità anche e soprattutto nell'attività di cercarla più a fondo, nella tua vita e in quella di chi ti è vicino...

fai degli esempi...
-presto lo farò, avevo tempo solo per questo ora...
29th-Sep-2005 11:41 pm - ...future ...futuro
fatty arbuckle
I can see by my watch, without taking my hand from the left grip of the cycle, that it is eight-thirty in the morning. The wind, even at sixty miles an hour, is warm and humid. When it's this hot and muggy at eight-thirty, I'm wondering what it's going to be like in the afternoon.
In the wind are pungent odors from the marshes by the road. We are in an area of the Central Plains filled with thousands of duck hunting sloughs, heading northwest from Minneapolis toward the Dakotas. This highway is an old concrete two-laner that hasn't had much traffic since a four-laner went in parallel to it several years ago. When we pass a marsh the air suddenly becomes cooler. Then, when we are past, it suddenly warms up again.
I'm happy to be riding back into this country. It is a kind of nowhere, famous for nothing at all and has an appeal because of just that. Tensions disappear along old roads like this. We bump along the beat-up concrete between the cattails and stretches of meadow and then more cattails and marsh grass. Here and there is a stretch of open water and if you look closely you can see wild ducks at the edge of the cattails. And turtles. -- There's a red-winged blackbird.
I whack Chris's knee and point to it.
"What!" he hollers.
He says something I don't hear."What?" I holler back.
He grabs the back of my helmet and hollers up, "I've seen lots of those, Dad!"
"Oh!" I holler back. Then I nod. At age eleven you don't get very impressed with red-winged blackbirds.

this is how the book begins, i spent a lot of time tryng to find enough time for it, but finally i got it

well, this is the stepping stone of this bi-language concerned community, i was looking for a place to discuss about robert m. pirsig's book, zen, poetry & technology, tranquillity, the meaning of mu, lifetime journey, quality, enthousiasmos and balance, but i couldn't find it on lj, so i didn't think twice about create it on my own, wishing you'll find it confortable, hoping you all will enjoy
as it will be possible i'll try to be hostful, writing english and italian at the same time. everyone is invited to bring his own thoughts and help. at last, i decided to write it bilingual, beacuse i hope to be understandable all over the world, even if my english is such a mess, because i think it is for me one of the best things i could try to do in this particular moment to try to find out my personal path to quality.
i love travelling,
and i think future comes from behind you, while past it's always in front of you until future become past...

questo è come il libro comincia, ci ho messo un sacco di tempo cercando di avere abbastanza tempo per finirlo, ma alla fine l'ho trovato

bene, questa è la pietra d'ingresso per questa comunità bilingue: cercavo un posto per discutere e cianciare del libro di robert m. pirsig, dello zen, della poesia e della tecnologia, della tranquillità interiore, del significato di mu, del lungo viaggio della vita, della Qualità, dell'enthousiasmos e dell'equilibrio, ma non l'ho trovato su lj, così non c'ho pensato due volte a farmela da solo, desiderando che poteste trovarlo un posto comodo per le vostre elucubrazioni, sperando che poteste gradire
per quanto possibile cercerò di essere ospitale, cercando sempre di scrivere italiano e inglese contemporaneamente. ognuno di voi è invitato a portare i suoi pensieri, e se può il suo aiuto. infine ho deciso di scrivere bilingue nella speranza di poter essere comprensibile in tutto il mondo, nonostante il mio mediocre inglese, perchè credevo che fosse per me una delle cose migliore che potessi provare a fare esattamente in questo momento per cercare di trovare il mio personale sentiero per la Qualità.
amo viaggiare,
e credo che sia il futuro ad arrivarci alle spalle, mentre noi abbiamo la possibilità di guardare, dritto davanti a noi, soltanto il passato, almeno finchè il futuro non diventa passato...

any help is welcome: it will be wonderful if any one of you would write bilingual, in english and is native language, if there is one...

ogni contributo è gradito: sarebbe meraviglioso se ognuno scrivesse bilingue in inglese e nella sua lingua madre non inglese...
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