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.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Absolute Truth

So much has happened. Cuthbert got a bullet wound to his stomach. Two of the new psychologists had medical degrees and we decided to treat him ourselves. We knew he had no chance to live, so we thought we might as well make use of this opportunity to strap a dying man into the thought amplifier. Christ save us all. I can't go into the horror, the collapse of safety. All I can tell you is that death is real. Two just dropped dead as their souls got sucked into the wailing apparatus. The others arrested on charges of murder and manslaughter. That chapter in the broadening of human understanding has closed and thank God we are plunged back into the soft and comforting darkness of ignorance. Only I managed to escape capture by the police. I jumped out of a window and fractured my arm. The others only knew me as Helga Von Porno anyway and there is no real record of my existence. And besides, they are all probably insane and ranting about blue pain and the great green light and other stuff the police won't be able to spell.
All I had was an ankle length white fur coat, a black mini dress and fur lined boots. I bunked the train to Leuchars and walked to St Andrews. My arm hurt like hell, and everything looked like hell, the wind battering the streets, faces tight with anguish and personal misery, rain and hail punishing the scurrying population. I had a paper to give to the Philosophy department on absolute truth in a weeks time. They paid for my lodgings in a bed and breakfast. I got into my room and lay back on the bed. I thought deeply and intensely about the truth. I was elevated by pain, loss and despair. I lay there til the next day when I emmerged to eat my breakfast. The Land Lord put his hand on my hip while his wife was in the kitchen. I punched him in the eye with my bad arm and the pain made me cry. I returned to my room and dissolved into pure thought.
The details are unimportant, but the train of thought is this, if you want to know something, then you don't know it. If you know something, then you don't want to know it. Move around a few symbols and you can know everything by wanting nothing. Of course, wanting nothing is not so easy. I lay motionless for seven days without food or water. I knew everything. The limit of my knowledge and the limit of the world was the same.
So lost was I that my physical location and embodiment became irrelevant, just another thing I didn't want to know. I found myself standing naked, the North sea lapping around the tops of my thighs. Looking out into the night, the wind howling, the rain whipping, the electric cold pain through me like a charge from the core of the world. I was connected and screaming. I wanted nothing and knew everything.
A Handsome man in an Aryan Jumper hailed me from the shore. I later found out he was called Mark. He waded out into the bitter sea and put his coat round my shoulders and took me in. He took me to his home and fed me warm tea and whisky. I could not answer his questions because my lips were too cold. He took me to his bed and held me close and tight. He held me as if he loved me, as if somebody loved me, as if someone wanted to sheild me from the horror of infinite knowledge. Desire awakened in me, and with it ignorance. I wanted to know this man, I wanted to know what he thought about me, I wanted to know what he would do if I kissed him, if I stroked his chest with my hand and slide it down to his belly. I wanted to know how it would feel if he were to make love to me, if we could make a connection, if I would be filled with love. Ignorance is bliss.

8 Comments:

  • At 6:45 PM, Blogger Ultra Toast Mosha God said…

    Ignorance is indeed bliss.

    What a shame then, that you are party to such enlightenment that this ignorance is washed away in a tide of unfortunate mis-understanding.

    You made the best of a bad situation, and this sailing fellow, if that's how I read it, seems to have been some kind of monotonous godsend.

    He sound like a labrador - loyal, but ultimatetely blinkered. Canine in his ways. Like an ever faithfull mutt who could never understand the boundaries you have pushed against in such wonderous abandonment of folly and social order and decorum.

    Go forth, porno, and let nothing stand in the way of your ever inspiring quest for whatever truth it is the rest of us can but wonder upon.



    Pity him not, but lie blessed in his ignorant grasp.

     
  • At 7:47 AM, Blogger Zen Wizard said…

    I was with you till the end--you have infinite knowledge, but you don't know whether a guy who takes you home wants to shag?

    Look around you--if you don't see Barbra Streisand albums and five different types of cologne, and you don't see anything from the International Male catalogue (especially the "Poet's Shirt"), he probably does.

     
  • At 8:13 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said…

    UGM: I wouldn't wax too lyrically about Mark. He was actually married. I'm not crying rape or anything, and I'm grateful, but he took his wages kind.
    And modesty aside, it was pretty lucky for him to find me as I was and take advantage of the situation.

    Zen, thanks for your witty comment, but there is a huge gulph between thinking something probable and knowing it to be true. Also, I was ignorant of whether he was "going" to "shag" me, not of whether he "wanted" to, which, as you flatteringly point out, is a given on the presumption that he is heterosexual. Many men, when confronted with a girl like me, will wait until they are asked, whether they want to or not. The sexiest men will make it impossible to refuse, while the least sexy men will make it impossible to ask. Dig?

     
  • At 12:01 PM, Blogger Trevor Record said…

    Knowing things isn't the part that makes you unhappy, thinking about the things you know is This is why clever writers and scientists drink so frequently... Not to forget about the facts (t'would be impossible, what is known is known) but to forget to think about them.

     
  • At 12:04 PM, Blogger Zen Wizard said…

    I am very confused--

    some flow charts would be very helpful at this point.

    I have never met a woman whom every guy was 100% certain they wanted to have sex with.

    I don't think one exists--I mean, I hate to burst your bubble.

    Maybe--let's say 98% of the males on the planet would have sex with you if you asked them nicely. (That is very unlikely, but let's assume, arguendo, that it is true...)

    I still don't get how you don't know this guy is not in the 2%.

    Maybe this is why I got a "C" in statistical analysis at MSU...

     
  • At 3:06 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said…

    Hmmm, it seems that now you've recinded your initial objection. (I'm stretching my vocabulary here beyond the limits of sure competence) First you seemed to be saying that it was absurd that I didn't know whether he wanted to shag me; now you are saying that I can't possibly have known that he wanted to shag me. All I was saying was that I didn't know what he was going to do next and that was exciting.

     
  • At 10:30 AM, Blogger razboynik said…

    Ignorance is bliss and the manipulation of ignorant people is even more blissfull, bringing great wealth and power, or just a good old shag from a friendly samaritan.....!

     
  • At 6:59 PM, Blogger Amandarama said…

    Yay! You're alive!

    Say, that Mark fellow sounds like a keeper...

     

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