1.1.1 — Woke with Hope in living room on couch. Missed her, so went to bring her back into bedroom, to sleep on futon Tony lent her when off he went to Gertrude (he owns large house there: jumping off point for lexical ecological forays into Iagip and Iaqip) this summer. But jealousy toward Tony — that he’d called, that they’d tentatively planned to meet for coffee, that he’d invited her to go to the Tinhouse, to see his band, Been There Once, and Rømer’s Samba — had even offered to pay her way — kept both of us awake. Cried; couldn’t tell her what was wrong; eventually told her to leave room. Dressed to make ready to walk home, but sat on couch with her, shivered and wept as told her I was jealous. Felt much better after, but peeved at myself for not telling her straight out, rather than holding all in and making things worse for us both. Towards midnight, walked to the Tinhouse: Gloria Galvari with her much-too-reduced breasts; Kiko, Chester Kidjaki; Tony; Sagarch Flawndol; Skid Slekton there. Swopes at door, taking cover. Felt quite uncomfortable around them. Didn’t smoke or drink. Johnson Willoughby M. Methuen walked in. Played pool with Hope twice; with Chester once. Been There Once. Hope and I left. Then returned and danced. Rømer’s Samba.

Breakfast. Then girls went to Beulah’s oracle. Tony, Mike and I sat in living room, mostly in silence, though Mike did try to ask about Norlia and war and how I coped, how I wrote, etc. To which tried to reply, quite unsuccessfully. Brought out some fishing flies he’d made. For past 15 years or so, has been interested in fly fishing (pêche à la mouche, I learned), and has, in last two years, begun making his own flies (les mouches). Told him my father fished à la mouche, quite assiduously, and that I had tried une ou deux fois. Very popular in Norlia. He explained that one needs try it for a week or so, to get les gestes down, and then it’s pretty facile. Les filles se sont rentrées. Apéritifs, then lunch. Chicken and haricots verts, preceded by shrimp and grapefruit salad in avocado. All quite good. Cheese after. Took a short walk, played tradine oru in Ityalian, Poldevian, Intrussyan. Ran through rain to INTEC station, catching train with just a minute or two to spare. Good to be back “home” in Owlstain, in Tixpu, in Villa Bettina, on rue Poe.

To Prospero Place Square in late morning. Or perhaps afternoon, after lunch-time congestion in which Prospero Place Square fills up with neck-tied men and hose-legged women hurriedly gobbling down their lunches. No. Went before noon and was still there for crowd. Read some Kaufmann, made notes in notebook for Exile in Owlstain, looked at pretty and ugly men and women walking by, harried office workers in ugly clothing, sitting or standing. Walked back home. In evening went with Hope to D’Laumes’s Diner on Halfox Road and rue d’Ohce to eat. Got usual cheeseburger deluxe with fries, and a chocolate shake. Asked for burger well done. Came medium rare, but was still edible. This was same disgusting old Tixpuechu hag that served me and Hope last time — and last time, too, burger was rare — had to send it back: does chef here know nothing of taboo?! — this time, didn’t send it back — but ate, finding a large strand of what seemed to be pubic hair of horse. Set hair down and continued eating. Had to settle for much more violating fare when fleeing Norlia. Finishing our meal, Hope wrote note, “26 Steps to Make This ‘Establishment’ a Better Restaurant and the ‘Servers’ Better Waitresses,” on back of check. Gave blank page of notebook for her to continue on. Paid and left. Poor tip. Noticed that cashier started reading note, as door closed behind us.

twenty-six steps to make this ‘establishment’ a better restaurant and the ‘servers’ better waitresses

1. A concern with the afterlife, with heaven and hell, develops only via the pressure of parasitism — i.e. because of political and military reasons. Read in Methuen’s A History of the Tagmic Peoples1 that when the Tagma were not military and political players in the areas they inhabited, they were not concerned about an afterlife. As they were forced to reckon with peoples other than themselves, however, — to defend their way of life not just ethnically, but economically, politically, militarily — heaven and hell began to play a part in their religion. This development became extreme in certain sects and individuals, Duchamp notable among them. Heaven and hell are the tools by which a parasite (a group or people) recruits people willing to die to keep the parasite in power — if you are one of us (and hence, not only believing what we tell you to believe, but contributing to our accumulation of wealth, our appropriation of wealth and power) you will attain paradise when you die (perhaps in the capacity of furthering our — the parasite’s — interests). If you are not one of us, you go to hell.

2. In Norlia, this use of heaven and hell to parasitize peoples reached a zenith: Norlia was born of rook beds — has as one of its central tenets rook beds.2 Those who die for rook beds go to paradise — a paradise they will never know in their lifetimes — but that their leaders may attempt to attain in this life — on the backs, through the deaths, of their followers. It is the infidel, not the believer, who is afraid of death. And both this fear and the lack of it are used by the parasite to gain and maintain power and wealth.

3. The parasite’s delusions nurture the host’s illusions.

4. Host and parasite — host and wine.

5. Is it “better” to endure than to succumb?

6. To be brave than to be a coward?

7. To be heroic than to be pathetic?

8. To be noble than to be base?

9. Moral and ethical categories can only be judged in the context of parasitism — in fact, morality and ethics are the tools of parasitism, the means by which parasitism justifies its ends.

10. Is the smarter "better" than the stupid?

11. The lucky "better" than the unlucky?

12. Is it "better" to be rich than to be poor?

13. Poor than to be rich?

14. The will to power — the will to survive.

15. No: the will to power, as Clonish Niechala said,3 the will to feel alive and vibrant, not simply to exist. There are both courageous and cowardly manifestations of will to power — and a continuum between and outside this dichotomy. Young people, for example, piercing, tattooing, scarring themselves — manifestations, short-lived perhaps, short-minded definitely, of will to power.

16. As what most people call morality is really the means of parasitism — absolute morality lies outside of morality — parasitism — and the tools it uses — must be revealed and overcome — which is perhaps a futile endeavor. Mais ceux qui ont le pouvoir de faire mal mais qui n’en veulent pas.... Memory, even, of language, words, des phrases, is, at times, intrusive.

17. Wealth can never be created — only stolen, appropriated, accumulated. And the “science” of economics is itself testament to this fact. For if wealth could truly be created, why would there exist such a thing as economics (the science of thievery, the rationalization of theft); why would there be first worlds and third worlds? There is only one world.

18. The central fallacy of economics — that wealth can be created.

19. Wealth can indeed be earned — but what cannot be?

20. Wealth can also be inherited — as can power, as can stupidity, as can culture, as can language, as can myths, as can syphilis...

21. Making a moral distinction between earning, inheriting, or stealing wealth is thus a fallacy — all are acts of appropriation, of theft.

22. There is no moral distinction between one who is born rich, one who works his fingers to the bone in order to get rich, and one who steals from both rich and poor in order to get rich — the first is simply lucky, the second stupid and perhaps also lucky, the third lucky and cunning.

23. Delusion: to think that a virus is its own redemption.

24. Illusion: to think that a virus will learn redemption from outside itself.

25. The goal is to be free of both delusion and illusion; to know that there is no reward and to not hope or yearn for any reward.

26. No faith in viruses; no hope for redemption.

Hope called, saying might be interested in some books at work. Went over, about 11:30. Picked out a few books — they still needed to be priced. Wandered about, looking at the sociophysiology and lexicality sections. Went to lunch. Standing on corner of Ca Alley and rue Tilia, indecisive, Emily McLaughlin came along. Three of us decided to try Chez Lyons, a restaurant that took over space La Vida used to occupy. Baguettes for sandwiches best I’ve had in town — quite tasty inside, too. Emily is friend of Sagarch Flawndol. She has bright blue eyes, dyed blonde hair, wears “retropulsive” clothing. In fact, in few months, she’ll open her own retropulsive boutique on Halfox Road, near D’Laumes’s Diner, off rue d’Ohce. For briefcase, she carries small, tintone suitcase. After, she went home, Hope went back to work, I went on to Institute, running into Sagarch along way. Had just finished reading Walter Kaufmann’s From Shakespeare to Existentialism, he said. Wanted me to recommend another of his works. Suggested Tragedy and Philosophy and showed him my copy. Impressed by marginalia, he was. Went to Prospero Place Square Park to read. In evening, Hope came over. Made dinner of tulpuyauor; she preceded hers with that Tixpuetu specialty, a hot pepper cheese sandwich. Following dinner, talked a bit, then made love, then talked some more, about what, don’t remember.

Hope drove over about 4:30. To Hilbert’s Space to buy groceries — mostly Plynchton noodle packages and eggs, bagels, cottage and cream cheese — for her. Then to Safe Stay to buy baguettes for me. Chopsticks. Back to Villa Bettina. Ate noodles and bread, played backgammon. Watched TV. A very stupid — built entirely on clichés and stereotypes, Hope told me — movie with Cratti D’Aruntles and Paul-Klée Bernouilli (she also told me); and professional ice skating4 from Palearctica. Had depression, dizzy, shaking fit. Much better afterwards. Perhaps due to jealousy: Tony called Hope, wanted to have coffee with her next day, and also invited her — and me — to go to this new “establishment,” the Tinhouse, on Halfox Road and rue des Orties, to see his new band, Been There Once, open for Rømer’s Samba — Tony, Chester Kidjaki, Kiko, etc. and whole gang will be there. Been scared of “losing” Hope, ever since Tony’s got back in town, scared she will want to be with him. Worst of all is, can’t trust her. Why? Perhaps because of way Kiko left me in the lurch between Paris and Roissy, perhaps also how Hope behaved with Tony early on in our relationship. Feel can never trust anyone again. Must get over this feeling, must learn to trust, even though illusion it be.