Only
Cannibalism unites us. Socially. Economically. Philosophically.
The unique law of the world. The disguised expression of all individualisms, all collectivisms. Of all religions. Of all peace treaties.
Tupi or not
tupi that is the question.
Against all
catechisms. And against the mother of the Gracos.
I am only
interested in what’s not mine. The law of men. The law of the cannibal.
We are
tired of all those suspicious Catholic husbands in plays. Freud finished off
the enigma of woman and the other recent psychological seers.
What
dominated over truth was clothing, an impermeable layer between the interior
world and the exterior world. Reaction against people in clothes. The American
cinema will tell us about this.
Sons of the
sun, mother of living creatures. Fiercely met and loved, with all the hypocrisy
of longing: importation, exchange, and tourists. In the country of the big
snake.
It’s
because we never had grammatical structures or collections of old vegetables.
And we never knew urban from suburban, frontier country from continental. Lazy
on the world map of Brazil.
One
participating consciousness, one religious rhythm.
Against all
the importers of canned conscience. For the palpable existence of life. And let
Levy-Bruhl go study prelogical mentality.
We want the
Cariba Revolution. Bigger than the French Revolution. For the unification of
all the efficient revolutions for the sake of human beings. Without us, Europe
would not even have had its paltry declaration of the rights of men.
The golden
age proclaimed by America. The golden age. And all the girls.
Filiation.
The contact with the Brazilian Cariba Indians. Ou Villegaignon print terre. Montaigne. Natural man. Rousseau. From the French Revolution to Romanticism, to
the Bolshevik Revolution, to the Surrealist Revolution and the technological
barbarity of Keyserling. We’re moving right along.
We were
never baptized. We live with the right to be asleep. We had Christ born in
Bahia. Or in Belem do Pata.
But for
ourselves, we never admitted the birth of logic.
Against
Father Vieira, the Priest. Who made our first loan, to get a commission. The
illiterate king told him: put this on paper but without too much talk. So the
loan was made. Brazilian sugar was accounted for. Father Vieira left the money
in Portugal and just brought us the talk.
The spirit
refuses to conceive spirit without body. Anthropomorphism. Necessity of
cannibalistic vaccine. For proper balance against the religions of the
meridian. And exterior inquisitions.
We can only
be present to the hearing world.
We had the
right codification of vengeance. The codified science of Magic. Cannibalism.
For the permanent transformation of taboo into totem.
Against the
reversible world and objectified ideas. Made into cadavers. The halt of dynamic
thinking. The individual a victim of the system. Source of classic injustices.
Of romantic injustices. And the forgetfulness of interior conquests.
Screenplays.
Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays.
Cariba
instinct.
Death and
life of hypotheses. From the equation I coming from the Cosmos to the axiom
Cosmos coming from the I. Subsistence. Knowledge. Cannibalism.
Against the
vegetable elites. In communication with solitude.
We were
never baptized. We had the Carnival. The Indian dressed as a Senator of the
Empire. Acting the part of Pitt. Or playing in the operas of Alencar with many
good Portuguese feelings.
We already
had communism. We already had a surrealist language. The golden age.
Catiti
Catiti
Imara Notia
Notia Imara
Ipeju*
Imara Notia
Notia Imara
Ipeju*
Magic and
life. We had relations and distribution of fiscal property, moral property, and
honorific property. And we knew how to transport mystery and death with the
help of a few grammatical forms.
I asked a
man what was Right. He answered me that it was the assurance of the full
exercise of possibilities. That man was called Galli Mathias. I ate him.
The only
place there is no determinism is where there is mystery. But what has that to
do with us?
Against the
stories of men that begin in Cape Finisterre. The world without dates. Without
rubrics. Without Napoleon. Without Caesar.
The
fixation of progress by means of catalogues and television sets. Only with
machinery. And blood transfusions.
Against
antagonistic sublimations brought over in sailing ships.
Against the
truth of the poor missionaries, defined through the wisdom of a cannibal, the
Viscount of Cairo – It is a lie repeated many times.
But no
crusaders came to us. They were fugitives from a civilization that we are
eating up, because we are strong and as vindictive as the land turtles.
Only God is
the conscience of the Uncreated Universe, Guaraci is the mother of all living
creatures. Jaci is the mother of vegetables.
We never
had any speculation. But we believed in divination. We had Politics, that is,
the science of distribution. And a socio-planetary system.
Migrations.
The flight from tedious states. Against urban scleroses. Against Conservatives
and speculative boredom.
From
William James and Voronoff. Transfiguration of taboo into totem. Cannibalism.
The pater
familias is the creation of the stork fable: a real ignorance of things, a tale
of imagination and a feeling of authority in front of curious crowds.
We have to
start from a profound atheism in order to reach the idea of God. But the Cariba
did not have to make anything precise. Because they had Guaraci.
The created
object reacts like the Fallen Angel. Ever since, Moses has been wandering
about. What is that to us?
Before two
Portuguese discovered Brazil, Brazil discovered happiness.
Against the
Indian de tocheiro. The Indian son of Mary, the godson of Catherine of Médicis
and the son-in-law of Don Antonio de Mariz.
Happiness
is the real proof.
No
Pindorama matriarchy.
Against
Memory the source of habit. Renewed for personal experience.
We are
concrete. We take account of ideas, we react, we burn people in the public
squares. We suppress ideas and other kinds of paralysis. Through screenplays.
To believe in our signs, to believe in our instruments and our stars.
Against
Goethe, against the mother of the Gracos, and the Court of Don Juan VI.
Happiness
is the real proof.
The
struggle between what we might call the Uncreated and the Created – illustrated
by the permanent contradiction of man and his taboo. Daily love and the
capitalist modus vivendi. Cannibalism. Absorption of the sacred enemy. To
transform him into a totem. The human adventure. Earthly finality. However,
only the pure elite manage to realize carnal cannibalism within, some sense of
life, avoiding all the evils Freud identified, those religious evils. What
yields nothing is a sublimation of the sexual instinct. It is a thermometric
scale of cannibalist instinct. Once carnal, it turns elective and creates
friendship. Affectivity, or love. Speculative, science. It deviates and
transfers. We arrive at utter vilification. In base cannibalism, our baptized
sins agglomerate – envy, usury, calumny, or murder. A plague from the so-called
cultured and Christianized, it’s what we are acting against. Cannibals.
Against
Anchieta singing the eleven thousand virgins in the land of Iracema – the
patriarch Joa Ramalho the founder of Sao Paulo.
Our independence
was never proclaimed. A typical phrase of Don Juan VI – My son, put this crown
on your head, before some adventurer does it! We expel the dynasty. We have to
get rid of the Braganza spirit, the ordinations and snuff of Maria da Fonte.
Against
social reality, dressed and oppressive, defined by Freud – in reality we are
complex, we are crazy, we are prostitutes and without prisons of the Pindorama
matriarchy.
Note:
*"The New Moon, or the Lua Nova, blows in Everyman remembrances of
me" from The Savages, by Couto
Magalhaes.
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