Ir's hard for me to unfollow my fathers side's beachy LI, NY way of life and decide to start a new life in Russia, far away from his family's island way of life. My mom's side is Russian, & the only thing we have in common is religion. None of them live here--they're like globetrotters & probably see themselves as White Russians. All I know is my family, the beach, guitars, music, our tiny little Orthodox parish, & my municipal laboring job. We're working class civil servants, my father told me. He played the guitar & was a beach bum cop, & I'm a musician, beach bum, & gov't laborer. My son is the fourth generation from NYC, all of us after my wonderful grandfather going to the ssme schools. We LOVE Farmingdale, Long Island! I don't know what to do!!! What a dilemma!!!
“Talk to my ass, my head’s spinning!” That must be the answer to my three comments on the previous article.
The pastor-farmer dichotomy has haunted my thoughts for decades. We’ve been on the same farm for over four centuries, tenants from father to son. After I was born, my father bought these 32 hectares in one contiguous block, buildings in the center. That’s where I grew up, prevented from growing up, and that’s where I still live. It’s not wine that’s forbidden to me: it’s money and social recognition: to live happily, live hidden! So I’m on the farm but without reaping its rewards, living on half the minimum subsistence income.
What is the essence of agriculture? It’s turning over the sacrosanct pastoral pasture of the pastoral establishment, of paternal lineage! It’s the annihilation of a perpetual history, of which the 12 hours of a clock bear witness. Why? To no longer obtain things directly (I reach out and take them) but rather to obtain them later, after a pause (a deca). This involves implementing 10 months (deca = 10) in the year, ten months to which is added a 61-day, unnamed pause (their abolition explained here: https://romanticon.substack.com/p/happy-new-year).
Modernity is the return of the pastoral: in the supermarket, I reach out and take what I like.
Blind obedience, what better way to perpetuate the pastoral establishment?
Ir's hard for me to unfollow my fathers side's beachy LI, NY way of life and decide to start a new life in Russia, far away from his family's island way of life. My mom's side is Russian, & the only thing we have in common is religion. None of them live here--they're like globetrotters & probably see themselves as White Russians. All I know is my family, the beach, guitars, music, our tiny little Orthodox parish, & my municipal laboring job. We're working class civil servants, my father told me. He played the guitar & was a beach bum cop, & I'm a musician, beach bum, & gov't laborer. My son is the fourth generation from NYC, all of us after my wonderful grandfather going to the ssme schools. We LOVE Farmingdale, Long Island! I don't know what to do!!! What a dilemma!!!
The importance of the father (l’importance du père), the importance of the pair (l’importance du paire), in French, these two expressions pronounced orally are similar. https://substack.com/profile/205971469-josick-croyal/note/c-273072721?r=3emolp
“Talk to my ass, my head’s spinning!” That must be the answer to my three comments on the previous article.
The pastor-farmer dichotomy has haunted my thoughts for decades. We’ve been on the same farm for over four centuries, tenants from father to son. After I was born, my father bought these 32 hectares in one contiguous block, buildings in the center. That’s where I grew up, prevented from growing up, and that’s where I still live. It’s not wine that’s forbidden to me: it’s money and social recognition: to live happily, live hidden! So I’m on the farm but without reaping its rewards, living on half the minimum subsistence income.
What is the essence of agriculture? It’s turning over the sacrosanct pastoral pasture of the pastoral establishment, of paternal lineage! It’s the annihilation of a perpetual history, of which the 12 hours of a clock bear witness. Why? To no longer obtain things directly (I reach out and take them) but rather to obtain them later, after a pause (a deca). This involves implementing 10 months (deca = 10) in the year, ten months to which is added a 61-day, unnamed pause (their abolition explained here: https://romanticon.substack.com/p/happy-new-year).
Modernity is the return of the pastoral: in the supermarket, I reach out and take what I like.
Blind obedience, what better way to perpetuate the pastoral establishment?