helga von porno

Tales of my fortunes in London involving philosophy time travel heroin addicted granny, prophesy, prostitution, murder, global conspiracy, friends, and personal finances. I am from east germany and fled to england when my parents where murdered and have been living here unofficially since.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

The Real Psychologists.

A few of us have taken to meeting upstairs in what must have been a ball room in this old Victorian mock Tudor house. There are leather armchairs and chess tables scattered around and a grand Piano in the corner. We feel ourselves to above the saturnalia down stairs which has degenerated into little more than a bestial romp. Last night, for example, a man of no scientific credentials fucked a goat in the orgone generator while his mate (literally, they drove a removals van together for a living) sat in the thought amplifier drinking lager. No one even bothered to record the results. We feel that these are symptomatic of the wider grip that Materialism has on the Zeitgheist. The general public are attracted by sex and drugs as vices, showing little interest in the amazing revolution of thought that is going on.

There are about eight of us, I am marked out doubly as being the only woman, and the only member without a degree in psychiatry from the institute. We call ourselves the "Real Psychologists" proudly boasting that we study thought, rather than brains and behaviour. And we dispense pure love and psychic energy, rather than drugs and lobotomy.

There is a bit of a dress code as well. We all where black suits that button up to the neck and smoke pipes. Rudolph plays the piano, Cuthbert is a demon at chess, but mostly we discuss evolutionary psychology and the amazing implications of Clarkes work. I think there is a little jealousy directed toward me as I am clearly Clarke's favourite, and because I give off 100 times the lebidinous energy of a randomly sampled human being. I am a kind of freak, and lebidinous genius. Clarke himself is the second highest, but he only gives off 25 fold.

The jealousy manifests in the direction of their thought. They keep coming up with dubious evolutionary arguments for why it is that men are superior to women, or that women are naturally subserviant to men.

There is an undercurrent of subversion against Clarke. It is whispered that he is becoming a "Sensationalist". It is true that he is trying to hire out big music venues in which to demonstrate his Orgone generator and thought collecting apparatus. The events are not even being billed as science, but as entertainment. He is experiencing some difficulty in obtaining licences, especially when the authorities learn that he wants to use schizophrenics in conjunction with live sexual intercourse.

I too am suspicious of the path Clarke seems to be treading. It is undeniable that his discovery is genius and of great import. But he seems to be inspired by Mammon, and the love of money is at the root of his endeavour. Even his love for me, which I can't deny is real, is but an instrument to his of self agrandisement.

HVP RP signing off

13 Comments:

  • At 6:32 AM, Anonymous Clarm said…

    Sounds like Prof. von Hagen, the ghoul that displays disected human bodies and hopelessly deformed foetuses in bell jars, like a victorian freak show... Science and entertainment make for uncomfortable bed-fellows.

     
  • At 7:25 AM, Blogger Ultra Toast Mosha God said…

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

     
  • At 7:26 AM, Blogger Ultra Toast Mosha God said…

    You seemed to be destined for the same fate as the New York Dolls, albeit a somewhat more tragic one, as your work seems to have some greater purpose to it rather than just being an excuse to take a lot of hard drugs, play instruments very badly and pour jack Daniels on your cornflakes, as Jonny Thunders was reputedly fond of doing.

    You need to shake Clarke out of his Starstruck reverie and remind him why he started doing this.

    Abscond to a small isle off the coast of Scotland film yourselves using, then burning the Orgone Generator. Then send the shocking footage to the Discovery Channel and wait for the Praise to roll in.

    When the hubub has died down and all the funds and awards that Clarke so desperately craves have piled up to their highest, rebuild the generator in secret and begin a new, jaded experiment and see how badly crippled your libido's have become as a reslt of the loveless sham that is celebrity.

     
  • At 12:24 PM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said…

    "HVP RP signing off"

    Now that sounds worryingly final. I've just found you Helga, please don't be signing off.

    I wouldn't abscond to a small Scottish island if I were you. I came from one and can tell you that your arrival with the Orgonr generator will bring down a plague of islanders on your house worse than any celebrity papparazzi. Worse, not more numerous, just worse. You'll find islanders in your cupboards, islanders in your plumbing, islanders in the whirry bits of the Orgone generator (gasping, probably, with the indescribable pleasure and unspeakable shame that whirry bits will give to islanders who haven't had sex since the 70s and didn't like it much then). You'll find Wee Free pamphlets in your cereal boxes and advice about the hanging out of your washing on a Sunday. You will probably have half a dozen powerful binoculars trained on your windows at any one time.

    A Scottish island is just too nosy a place. I say go to Middlesborough. Full of goings on in Middlesborough and people know to keep themselves to themselves.

    I'm off to leave a comment regarding Zen's comment of the other day. 2 posts ago I think. I don't want to muddle up today's fine post.

     
  • At 12:24 PM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said…

    "HVP RP signing off"

    Now that sounds worryingly final. I've just found you Helga, please don't be signing off.

    I wouldn't abscond to a small Scottish island if I were you. I came from one and can tell you that your arrival with the Orgonr generator will bring down a plague of islanders on your house worse than any celebrity papparazzi. Worse, not more numerous, just worse. You'll find islanders in your cupboards, islanders in your plumbing, islanders in the whirry bits of the Orgone generator (gasping, probably, with the indescribable pleasure and unspeakable shame that whirry bits will give to islanders who haven't had sex since the 70s and didn't like it much then). You'll find Wee Free pamphlets in your cereal boxes and advice about the hanging out of your washing on a Sunday. You will probably have half a dozen powerful binoculars trained on your windows at any one time.

    A Scottish island is just too nosy a place. I say go to Middlesborough. Full of goings on in Middlesborough and people know to keep themselves to themselves.

    I'm off to leave a comment regarding Zen's comment of the other day. 2 posts ago I think. I don't want to muddle up today's fine post.

     
  • At 12:25 PM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said…

    Bloody blogger's buggering around today.

     
  • At 3:10 PM, Blogger benjibopper said…

    I recommend a coup, clark has clearly outlived his usefulness, and your libidinous emissions are superior to his anyway. If the 6 other clowns are too estrophobic to be led by a woman than you should start a new club and find some theoretical shrinks with guts.

     
  • At 3:11 PM, Blogger benjibopper said…

    it's time i put my foot down on top of my own grammatical errors: than should be then in my last comment.

     
  • At 5:07 PM, Blogger hen said…

    I think everyone should calm down and think about the consequences. Won’t anyone think of the consequences? THE fucking CONSEQUENCES.

    Oh please sweet fate can’t you help.

     
  • At 5:42 PM, Anonymous Amandarama said…

    Even his love for me, which I can't deny is real, is but an instrument to his of self agrandisement.

    God. I hate it when that happens.

    But, of course, you are self-actualized enough to know that you don't actually need him, yes?

     
  • At 2:17 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said…

    You are eerie-good Helga.

    "The general public are attracted by sex and drugs as vices, showing little interest in the amazing revolution of thought that is going on."

    (And this is just one of many phrases I could have singled out to illustrate how truly eerie-good you are.)

     
  • At 5:51 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said…

    Clarm.. How about Charcot? The Parisian Neurologist who would induce epileptic fits in front of a theatre audience.


    Tosh.. I'll never be famous, not in connection with Clarke anyway. Humanity is still not ready for Clarks revolution, and even after the death of god, people are puritanical about sex.


    Sam, couldn't find your Zen comment. "Signing off" was unexplained. Thought it would sound more like a journal. No, I've got to many opinions to stop blogging and stay sane.

    Good plan Benji, but the project is doomed, and anyway, I'm not leadership material. I believe in personal freedom, of myself and others. I can't tell people what to do, they must decide for themselves.

    It is the consequences that are so exciting Hen. We might be able to telepathise! and talk to God!!

    Amandarama, I like the cut of your Jib, you comment has made me feel elated. And i don't even know what "self actualised" actually means.

    Latigo: "Eerie good" ??? Reminds me of some shameful bullying of a kid with protruding ears.

     
  • At 1:14 PM, Anonymous elusiveshadow said…

    Ok, I just found your blog, but...WHAT?! Is this some sci-fi series you are writing. I'm lost on this post.

    I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I'm just confused as to whether this is supposed to be fiction, fantasy, or simply delusion.

     

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