ZA/UM: Pohmakafilosoofid eesotsas Kierkegaardiga

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Pohmakafilosoofid eesotsas Kierkegaardiga

proudly present

Akna tagant kostab autopidurite kriiskamist. Järgneb tume mats, ebakindel röögatus ja vana naise hüsteeriline hala. Kõike seda 1993. aasta hausimiksi saatel.

Panen muusika seisma ja lähen akna juurde. Keset tänavat seisab maastur, kuumal asfaldil lebab ja vist ka liigutab inimkogu. Vana naine on kummardunud kogu kohale ja haliseb: "Pojake mu pojake, Issand, Issand, jätke eluvaim sisse, jätke inimesele eluvaimgi sisse".

Üle ristmiku tuleb väike tüdruk lilledega, tütreke-kabujalake, must kleit seljas, tark nagu Piibel. Asetab kimbu verise kogu kõrvale ja lausub kõlaval häälel: "Hüvasti isake, sinuta pean ma nüüd üles kasvama. Ei õpetanud mind sa rattaga sõitma. Õde-venda mulle ei teinud ja loomagi ei kinkinud. Vahtisid aina oma tobedat arvutit. Aga pole sest hullu. Ma annan sulle andeks"

"Pojake, pojake, Issand halasta, jätke vähemalt eluvaim sisse!"

"Ei jäta", teatab sohver läbi pläru. "Kurat olin 87ndal Afganistanis. Meie roodus oli noor poiss, filosoof, romantik. Oma mees lasi täis peaga BTRi tornist maha. 14,5 kaliiber, pea otsast raisk. Vot sulle pojakest!". Poole jutu pealt oli sohver maasturile hääled sisse pannud, lükkas käigu peale ja sõitis uuesti üle inimvare.

Ristmikule on kogunenud klassiõed. Üks avab veini, teine paljastab lihavad võrksukkis kintsud. Ülejäänud võtavad kaanonis laulu üles kuid samas vakatavad. Saabub naine, sisistab klassiõdede suunas, marsib asfaldil ahastava emakese kõrvale ja kuulutab: "Ma abiellusin vale vennaga!" Vend peidab silmi. Koos leebunud naisega tõstavad nad inimkogu üles ja sängitavad rohelisse plastikust prügikonteinerisse.

"Ma sooviksin neelduda", pomiseb keegi, "mulle meeldinuks, et minu selja taga leidub üks hääl, mis alustas kõnelemist juba palju varem, ennetades alati kõike seda, mida mul on öelda; hääl, mis kõneleb nõnda: "Tuleb jätkata, ma ei suuda jätkata, tuleb jätkata, tuleb öelda sõnu, kuniks neid veel on, tuleb neid öelda, kuniks nad mu üles leiavad, kuniks nad ise mind ütlema hakkavad - kummaline vaev, kummaline süü, tuleb jätkata"".

Tädi maksuametist kirjutab kaane vahele lõpparve ja konteiner lükatakse veerema.
See veereb ja veereb mööda teed, sees on palav ja pime, kõik kohad on täis kärbseid ning vaklu. Ühtäkki prügikast peatub. Pärgsoengu ja kitsehabemega mees avab kaane ja ütleb:

a) Tõuse üles!

b) Joptvojumatt!

c) Midagi muud, kallis ZA/UMi lugeja? Kuna täna näib olevat katsetuste avaldamise päev, mõtlesin selle pasa ka üles visata. Kellel veel mingit katsesitta sheerida on?

10 kommentaari:

AnonymousJune 5, 2011 3:21 AM
Njah, nägin kah kunagi üht sarnast juhtumit. Mutikene jäi auto alla. Oh häda ja õnnetust. Surm. Kurb. Jne. Midaiganes.
ReplyDelete
AnonymousJune 5, 2011 9:14 AM
M-I-D-A I-G-A-N-E-S.
Pask aga catchy as fuck: http://youtu.be/6WJFjXtHcy4
ReplyDelete
AnonymousJune 5, 2011 12:36 PM
Congratulations - kolm raksestikommenteeritavat postitust! Shit's so raskestikommenteeritav. Milline on SINU lemmik raskestikommenteeritav postitus?! Minu oma on CK oma!

RK
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Aleksander RostovJune 5, 2011 12:50 PM
Lits raisk! Marss minu postituse alla "ÕUJEE KUI KÕVA SEE KÕIK ON!" kommenteerima!
ReplyDelete
Siim NJune 5, 2011 2:23 PM
Kui ma saaks, siis ma kaotaks enda asjade puhul kommentaarid üldse ära. Sest ma olen fašist. Ma olen ühtlasi endiselt purjus. Täna tuleb vist päikeseprillid-kodus päev. Aga see laul on naljakas, kas mina postitasin selle. Swag
ReplyDelete
AnonymousJune 6, 2011 9:14 AM
Inspireerituna ülalloetust avaldan nüüd imepisikese killu olematust teosest pealkirjaga "Pori".
Igasugused seosed oleva ja olemasolematuga on meelevaldsed ja autor ei vastuta nende ega nende tekitatud tagajärgede eest ei selles ega järgmises elus.

Tänan.

/../Universum libises aga omasoodu, läbi sädeleva pasa, tühjuse ja tolmu, mida mõned ka Kõiksuseks, Allikaks, Maatriksiks, vahel vihaga isegi kasutatud tampooniks nimetasid.
Tuhandetest ekraanidest koosnevate seintega saalist kostus hääli.
"Mine kanni oma Elulille ja DNA-ga," jõrises Arhitekt. "Mõtleks, häh, pusserdan mingi hullu vidina valmis ja olen nüüd aa ja oo ja eeta ja peldik teab mis..Jobu oled, Metatron, joo-buuu!!"
Arhitekt haaras suure pudeli, millele oli kirjutatud neoonroosade tähtedega "MKMFZ" ning kummutas sealt tubli suutäie.
Metatron ei vastanud.
"..ja mis nüüd on - " jätkas Arhitekt. "Miskid tüübid käivad iga tund uste-akende taga plõksimas ja jõllitamas; tuba on segamini niikui kuradi maiteamis, kassid magavad kus juhtub, söögilaual..A vaata kui toksan näpuga nooleklahvi, ah? Nool..ee..ülesse näiteks?"
Arhitekt viibutas koordineeritusest vaba sõrme Esc ja F1 kandis.
Metatron ei vastanud ikka.
/../
ReplyDelete
AnonymousJune 6, 2011 2:30 PM
Ma olen peen ja sügav
nagu kristiina ehin
ReplyDelete
MudlumJune 16, 2011 9:05 PM
Ega polnudki plaanis seda üle päeva ülal hoida - öösel tõusin veel mitu korda üles, et võtan maha, aga luiksiga sai kunagi räägitud, et julge hundi rind on rasvane, ja jumal näeb, sellist mõttekäiku mul endal pole tõesti kunagi pähe pannud. Võtab siis kunagi pundi kokku ja arutab.
ReplyDelete
Conversation KillerJune 17, 2011 1:01 AM
Andke teada siis, siinsamas blogis saab vist kõige operatiivsemalt või Rk võiks helistada.. Muuseas kesse fuckstick June 6, 2011 2:30 PM kommenteeris? Palun väga, nii munast kommentaari ikka annab kirjutada.
ReplyDelete
MudlumJune 17, 2011 11:20 AM
RK!!! Kui see siin on kõige operatiivsem, siis mu igapäevane elu on halvatud, kuna tagumise ukse võti on kadunud!! Pean läbi akna õue ronima!! Vaata kõik oma vestivahed läbi!! Küsi kõigi tüdrukute käest, kes siin šampust joomas käisid!
Also, varsti on vaja ilmselt uut kassi, koera ja lapsevalvet.

Kas kellelgi ei vedele mõnda ülearust netipulka, mida ma saaksin Muhusse kaasa võtta? See on FB teema, panen sinna ka kuulutuse üles.
ReplyDelete

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ZA/UM KUTSUB ÜLES!
PROJEKT "KUTSE TANTSULE"

See on Jörpa meistriteos. Selle nimi on "Kutse tantsule" ja see on hüpnootiline, rõõmustav ja samas veidralt halvaendeline pala 90test. Iga idioot saab aru, et see on eredalt minimaalse produktsiooniga lugu. Arranžeering on elegantne, rudisev bass ja üllatavalt helisev celesta-efekt, võluvalt kuiva ja plastikaatse basstrummi kohal. Ka laulukirjutamise seisukohalt on "Kutse tantsule" tähelepanuväärne. Üks ainus libisev akordivahetus ja mantrana korduvad sõnad, mis võtavad aina uusi tähendusi. Kui Jörpa selle praegu teeks, oleks kõik hullult nagu: "Wow, see kõlab nagu The Knife" ja "Kas Maria Minerva on Jörpaga koos midagi teinud?!" Ma ütleksin, et selle helistikuvahetuse loodav efekt meenutab The Fieldi viimase plaadi nimiloo samasugust kahe jaama vahel korduvat hüpnoosi. Ja et trummi roll on natuke The Battlesi moodi. Ühesõnaga - kõige šefimad hipsterid keeraksid iroonia maha ja naudiksid seda kogu vaimu ja kehaga.

Paraku on maailm üks idiootne koht ja nagu mõned arvavad, et Scootrit saab kuulata ainult läbi rögase iroonia, on mul kahtlus, et ka "Kutse tantsule" on mingiks campiks tõlgendatud. Mis kõige õudsam - ta siiras, süütu ja saamatult erootilise tantsunumbriga video on langenud 9gagi idiootide hambusse.

Fuck off värdjad, ei ole nagu Borat, Jörpa on seal videos CALM, BARREN, AND BEYOND ALL CONTROL and we need to take it back for him! Mine sinna uutuuba lehele , laigi mu kuramuse "You cockfucking americans" kommentaari, lisa ise ka midagi ja vajuta türastanud top commentsile pöial alla nagu Julius Caesar.

HENRY 2, PAW DE DEUX

Check this shit out, french new wave cinema, traagiline monoloog, kass.

KÕRGEMAD KAHEKÜMNENDAD

Ei oska kommenteerida, kas asi on vanuses, aga mulle meeldib viimasel ajal lisaks joogale see ka. Tundub, et 2012 ei tulegi nii kehv muusikaaasta, kui eelmise põhjal arvata oli.

TERVITUSI TEISEST ILMAST

Jerome Isma-Ae er en tysk DJ, remixer og producer fra München. Han har turneret verden rundt som anerkendt trance-, house- og techno-DJ. Jerome Isma-Ae ejer desuden pladeselskabet Jee Productions.

Ma arvan, et see on peamisi asju, mis MJ loomingust ajahambale vastu pidama saab.

SIVERT HOYEM - UNDER ADMINISTRATION

Näe, vaata, Madrugada laulja teeb sooloprojekti. Juba kolmanda albumi laseb välja. Ja ta ei tee seda niimoodi igavalt, nagu sooloprojekte tavaliselt tehakse, oma endise vägevuse varjuna. Küte on, saab hakkama moodsa ja vanamoodsa elemendi ühendamisega. Also, tšeki seda videot. Peegeldumist kasutatakse juba kaheksakümnendatest saati ja sellel ei olnud enamasti mingeid eriti meeldejäävaid tulemusi, nii et see lõpetati vahepeal sootuks ära. Aga siin tehakse seda jälle, ja niimoodi, et ilus on vaadata. Also, Sivertil on lahe särk seljas. High rec.

kas see tähendab, et me peaks m. käbiniga tihemini rääkima ja teda heakohast silitama?

ROBERT KURVITZ is a normal guy. Just a normal guy, a straight up fella. Not that different from you, actually. Man has a job and an education, contributes to society. Mildly ideological in as far as he values human life, but nothing too out there. Everything about him is trustworthy and normal and there is little else to say on the subject. Maybe it's YOU, who's the suspicious character?

MARTIN LUIGA is the endproduct of millenias of philosophical thought. Ever notice how through the ages philosophers have been sketching an idea of a better man, an improved human being? From prehistoric thought to humble greek beginnings, from drugaddled fin-de-siecle powerhouses of thought, throughout the 20th century - everything has been adding up to this moment. There he stands, transdescending from the metaphysical to the very real, The Overman.

ALEKSANDER ROSTOV, once an alcoholic youth of some renown, prowling the streets like any other. Today, half a decade later, he's a semiwithdrawn misanthropic recluse, spending his days hissing petti insults at artists. Being one hismself he has learned, more than anything else, to despise any who refer to themselves as such. He does this with impressive gusto, with thunderous passion outdone only by his borderline unhealthy interest in the medium of video games.

HELEN HINDPERE has so many drafts in her blogger account it's not even funny. An archetype of a ZA/UM reader turned contributor, she is an aspiring lady of letters, a writer-to-be if you will. Her flaming red hair signaling both the tone of her heart as well as her passion for words, books and all those boring dusty learny things. A woefully rare combination of kojn, smarts and goodwill she also holds down a part-time job as the unofficial secret mascot of ZA/UM.

JOANNA ELLMANN is that rarest of phenomen - a poetess (yes, we though Sappho was the last one as well). Her work is appropriately described as either "mystic" or "visionary". Accordingly, she shows an academic competence in poetic tradition, as well as shamanistic theory and other fields of ethnology. As a promoter of culture she's taken up an avid interest in many an endeovor, as long as they display a certain degree of radical thinking and poetic value.

KASPAR KALVET is a globe-trotting financial analyst. When he's not busy flooding the market with incomprehensible real-estate instruments, he travels the far reaches of this planet, admiring his handy-work unfold as financial catastrophes. A well-read gentleman, with ice-cold wits, Kalvet dissects matters as complicated as global economics or the stream-of-conciousness narrative technique. As an ardent geographer, expect his reports from the vertigo depths of lake Altai, via Gobi desert to the Land of Fire and Ice.

RUUDU ULAS has taken up the unforgiving mission of creating meaningful imagery using delicate machinery and vicious chemical compounds, darkness and light, although said practice has been trivialized, shunned, commercialized, misused and spat upon since it’s very beginnings, although it brings more pain than pleasure and her presence would be weighty enough if she never did a damn thing, spending her life critizising her surroundings instead.

LILIAN MARIE MERILA is a professional fashion photographer. An advocate of beauty, both human or otherwise, she admires cheek bones and collar bones, sure, though a river of late evening traffic, all diamond headlights and radience... goes just as well. In fashion terms this means she walks the tight-rope between glamour and rock´n´roll. With her sense of style and a laid-back attitude towards culture, she represents a sort of lady of blessings, lending an air of credibility to everything she comes to approve of.

MADE LUIGA is the loneliest woman in the world. Imagine Beth Gibbons, only farther up to the north, trapped underground by the forces of capital to supply the unlearned with precious jewellery for all eternity. When not toiling for the continuation of said horrors, however, she's an avid microhistorian, well-versed in the course of beauty and a promising critic and letters-man.

HELEN HAAV is a Kantian judicator. She spends most of her days judicating from the Kingdom of Ends. When she's not judicating from the Kingdom of Ends, you can find her - there, in the Kindgom of Ends. Judicating. Judge, jury, executioner style. Always outnumbered, never outgunned. Judicar Haav is what they call her in that hypothetical state of existence derived from the categorical imperative. Benevolent, merciless, she puts the "Kantian" in our Kantian Death Squad. Tread lightly!

JIM ASHILEVI is a former child actor. You might remember him (please remember him!) as Muzzy's little friend, the alien, from the English language educational show "Muzzy Comes Back". But Muzzy never came back, the shoot was over, the red eye of the camera switched off, and with it, Jim faded into obscurity. He's been desperately trying to climb back into the limelight ever since, publishing plays ("Like Boys in the Rain", "Porcelainsmoke" - please know some of them!) and a measure of short prose fiction . . . and theatre directing . . . and film . . . whatever it takes, basically.

KRISTO VIIDING is a master thespian and resident of the National Drama Theater. His dashing siegfried looks and baritone delivery have earned him the prestigious Voldemar Panso award. And with it, a spot in the highest echelon of our nation’s thespians: the cast of a certain Home in the center of a certain City. When not flexing his acting muscles, Mr Viiding endeavors to coalesce film, prose, music and poetry into a kind of supreme amalgamation of arts –The Ultimate Art, if you will - Nicola Tesla, Wall of Light style!

TRIIN TASUJA Rather being lost than found, this loud- and dirtymouthed jenny-from-the-block character is never too steady, calm or satisfied with things she sees. Fear has become her partner in crime ever since the day she saw the big crack between her own made up world and The Big Fat Reality. From that on you may never know when one battle begins and other one ends.

CAROLINA PIHELGAS is a writer and an avid translator of poesy. Having translated from five languages, poetic analysis follows naturally. In her own poems fraulein Pihelgas has been known to reference the many bizarre places she has visited as a travelling minstrel. She has, for example, sailed the Pacific in a small sailyacht. Although she appears to be taken at the moment, her interests include: red wine, anarchy.

THE PARADOX THAT FUELS THE PLANES is a mystery wrapped inside an enigma wrapped inside a conundrum wrapped inside a contradiction wrapped inside CONVERSATION KILLER wrapped inside a mere man - confused by the seeming victory of capitalism and lack of alternatives, hiding behind blind contrarianism, posing no threat to the ruling elite - wrapped inside a weapon pointed at every single atom in existence with a particularly watchful eye on those that constitute the clientele of Estonian Air.

SIIM "ŠNURKA" NURKLIK is a gatling-gun of a man. Look up, notice the speck of light in the night sky? That's the "Ultima Vox" calibrating its many orbital lasers. Look lower! That is a flock of B-52's parting the air at subsonic (but still impressive) speeds. Look even lower, that, my friend, is a fleet of dreadnoughts cleaving the oceans, their gray cannons glimmer in the blinding noon sun. Now look around you, it's a congress of tanks, their caterpillar crawlers muddied with the dry brown blood of enemies. Listen, hear the uneasy silence - they are all loaded up and ready to engage, their thick reinforced hulls packed to the brim with the deadliest of payloads: Words. Best you hope the gun ain't pointed at you, son.

POLIITILISELT KORREKTNE PRINTSESS is no damsel in distress. True, you can find her sitting high in her ivory tower, but she is there quite of her own volition, honing her academic tools and her famed dry wit, and woe betide those on whom she unleashes her weapons! She has no patience for the follies and frivolities of lesser men, and her turnoffs include: enthusiasm, optimism.