II.
Normally, when I get these letters
about conspiracy theories, I try to read into it, and if there is an
interesting style, I read a bit, I either laugh or get bored, then I
throw them into the waste paper bin. But not this time. Not because
of pages full of descriptions of flying objects making whirring
sound, or because of the location where these observations have been
made, a military zone in Waldviertel, north west of Vienna, already
off limits in Hitler's times, a place surrounded by a primeval forest
- the only one in Austria -, where no civilian has ever been, not
only because of its thick unpenetrable underwood with no trodden
paths, but also for being a restricted area, no, the handwritten
pages fascinated me, the rhythm intrigued me, the contents seemed to
transport a kind of truth.
Let me introduce myself. For the
time being it must suffice that I am a freelance writer, my credo is:
always tell the truth, as I have seen, heard or experienced certain
events. And possible deductions are characterized as such. I have
published my articles in numerous journals, both Austria and Germany.
I haven't got any prizes yet, truth is, I couldn't care less, because
prizes are just frozen, solidified symbols, created by persons, who
themselves have a nimbus of being somebody which again is frozen
significance which nobody challenges. So, all the universities,
"renowned" or not, and their doctoral degrees, all the
prizes, like Pulitzer, Nobel, Oscar and the like are just worthless
symbols of frozen images in time and space. Having said that, I like
to start at a beginning. There is no beginning, there is only a point
in time, which is marked with a location as a beginning. And waking
up in my bed is a good one. I have had a bad dream, again, about
having died, I woke up, belatedly, again, I had a quarrel with my
girlfriend, again, we had make-up sex, again, admittedly a wonderful
experience for both of us, we do a lot of quarrelling, followed by
make-up sex, I'm always reminded of some apes who have sex instead of
a quarrel, well we quarrel, then have sex. This time we quarrelled
about my financial situation, which right now is catastrophic, since
I haven't sold any story for quite some time, I live from her money,
which is getting scarce, I desperately need a story, any story, she
suggests, which I don't want to - hence the altercation.
Feeling good after the sexual
melting of our bodies, I hurry to my car which doesn't start, again,
so I call a taxi and drive to the café where I am to meet the
stranger if he's still there, waiting for me.
Well, he was there, I detected him
immediately among the other customers, a striking presence of a real
individual among a crowd. I know, this all sounds pretty much like
the beginning of A Connecticut Yankee and when I continue my
story, it will even be more so damn Twain-like, but I can't change
that. And again I must stress that I write what I see, what I hear,
what I experience, and any deductions will be denoted as such.
The man was in his
fifties, short haircut, bristling two weeks beard, a trained body -
since I myself do a lot of yoga and gym of all sorts, I have a good
eye for such bodily appearances. He obviously didn't bother my being
late, indeed very late, he didn't even mention it, he smiled at me
and said, that my articles had intrigued him and that I would be the
right person to tell his story. And after I ordered coffee for both
of us he began describing certain events of his past days. I was
immediately drawn into his story, because of his mesmerizing rhythmic
language which seemed a bit odd for modern times. He told me of a
another kind of Sumerian Tablets, the contents of which differ a lot
from those we know, which are according to his words only accessible
to very secret societies... What he told me was so mind-blowing that
all my questions about reality, about man and his origin, about the
creation of everything didn't matter any more. Why so? Because they
have been answered.
...
...
Continuation of the story some other time. Right now I'm in the mood for a little diversion...
