See: https://www.wattpad.com/1494034173-the-language-castle-tender-precision

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"The uncontrolled self is the source of all personal suffering and woe. Control the self and you control the world." James Keating

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"Put forth bad energy towards others and beware." James Keating

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The basic organic error of humanism was that it wanted to lecture the people from above, instead of trying to understand them and learn from them. These academic idealists thought they were already ruling because their empire was far-reaching, because they had their servants, envoys, and legates in all countries, courts, universities, monasteries, and churches. But this empire embraced only a thin upper class and was weakly rooted in reality. Jamal Tuschick

Sexual Emergency Service

New York 1961 - America's avant-garde relaxes in the Village. Robert Zimmerman arrives, but not yet as Bob Dylan. First gigs in a "basket house". Musicians play in the Gaslight Cafe without pay. After the show, a hat is passed around the bar. Zimmerman meets a musical sailor from the Dutch merchant navy. The man calls himself Brasil Damon. He spends many nights on the guest couch of established progressives. 

The couch is a permanent fixture in charitable folk circles. The circles are recruited from academics who find folk music appealing. The music provides the soundtrack to a sexual emergency service. A lot of frustrated people appear as premature Woody Allen film figures. How different the present is can also be seen from the fact that Woody Allen is no longer an idol. He functioned as the lowest common denominator for almost half a century. Allen's movies illustrated altruistic sex in a bonobo academia. The worst numbers in the world are played on the visitor's couch. People who would use the formal form of address in continental European society use the informal form of address with the goodwill of a college barbecuing in the dean's garden. Damon takes an opportunity to go to Chicago in the car of a poisonous dinosaur. Jazz musician Andrew Bowles uses crutches to get to the toilet. He injects heroin and keeps losing consciousness. His time is up, the signs are pointing towards folk. Bowles sneers at the reduced style of playing in folk music; the thing with the three chords long before punk. Bowles refuses to consider the dimension of the instrumentalization of folk music for political purposes in the style of Woody Guthrie.

Sixty years later, Basil's grandson is lecturing to a crowd of female students in a cozy seminar room at Landgraf Philipp University. From the lecture: In 1926, Georges Bataille chose the pseudonym Georges Troppmann for a work that never appeared. In 1867, a man of that name killed five children and their mother with blows from a shovel. He died without remorse and left behind "Secret Memoirs". Rimbaud mentions the murderer, Troppmann wanders in the fog of the poetry of Lautréamont, Breton and Éluard. Troppmann is the name of the hero in "The Blue of Heaven". He no longer has an overview of his situation: 

"The empty head in which I am has become so anxious, so greedy, that only death can satisfy it." 

Losing control is not a consequence, but a goal. According to Susan Sontag, Bataille wrote "the chamber music of pornographic literature". She suspected that the author's consciousness was "in a permanent state of agony". 

Bataille claims: "But even the conscious person, when he recklessly wastes and destroys himself, does not know why he is doing it and may consider himself ill. He is unable to justify his behavior as useful; it never occurs to him that society could have an interest in significant losses." 

"The Blue of Heaven" provides scenes for the discourse. Troppmann, shattered by debauchery, is the ridiculous and admirable figure in a game whose rules no one understands. 

"I was absurdly cold-blooded, but at the same time I thought I was going mad. Under the pretext of facing fate, I pulled myself together."

Troppmann loves Dirty in sexual impotence. He reveals his impotence to Lazare. Troppmann meets Lazare in Barcelona, ​​and she takes the side of a working class determined to go on a general strike. Lazare allows himself to be tortured so that he can resist Franco's torture if the opportunity arises."

Francisco Franco (1892 - 1975), full name Francisco Paulino Hermenegildo Teódulo Franco Salgado y Bahamonde Pardo, was a Spanish military officer, dictator and Generalissimo of Spain from 1936 to 1975." Wikipedia

Vernon's audience reacts as one organism to the narcotic effect of the speaker, who grew up on a stud farm and could ride a horse before he could walk. Vernon is so different from all the other young academics. He embodies a charming mixture of robust and masculine wallflower. His dimple splits his chin. His casual style of speaking deceives few people about how much Vernon enjoys bathing in the crowd of women.

From Vernon's Notes

 I am standing near Persephone in front of the incomplete replica of a medieval wooden fortress - a motte, complete château à motte. It is the brainchild of a mayor long time ago. The mayors of Ederthal have come from a family called Gerster for generations. I regard the Gerster clan, with their will to power, as a superior clan of magicians. They earn the most money locally and pursue the most pleasant and prestigious activities.

A few families orbit the Gerster sun like satellites. With my potential, I rank in this hierarchy behind the 'Ndrangheta, which is embodied in Ederthal by Luciano Montana.

I assure Persephone of my support in preserving a generally ignored cause. The replica could collapse like a house of cards, the mound could be carried away by the wind, it wouldn't scratch anyone's itch. I offers Persephone my joint, even though I know she hates smoke in her lungs.

I enjoy the tender precision with which Persephone calls things by their old names. She has the maiden names of the Ederthal wives at the ready, as well as the occupations of their fathers and all the local family trees and grandfatherly quirks, although she has only lived in Ederthal for three years.

I find Persephone's intentional local patriotism sexy. For her, the Global South begins at a territorial border that no one but she knows.

Persephone wears a lavender-blue dress that ends just above her knees. The conservative look appeals to me. I'm usually always more powerful than the other person, but that's not the case in this constellation. I imagine Persephone in bed. In my place, I put an imaginary, naturally overwhelming substitute. Persephone looks at me as if she can read my mind. I know she's up for erotic extravaganzas. I interpret her behavior as encouragement. I ask her intimate questions in my mind. I imagine her in her town hall chair having sex. I gather my inner momentum for a short domestic pleasure. I say goodbye to Persephone and announce my arrival to Iris by phone. She is always open to my Quickie mania.

Iris responds to the cue I gave her with the willingness of an ambitious service provider. In a nutshell, my pleasure thing goes like this. I need a long monotonous opening shot on a single detail. I like to watch that for the small eternity of ten minutes. Penetration is just the finishing point. Of course, I make up for it at the next opportunity with sensitive, detailed sex and a adequate setting. Nevertheless, Iris always remember that I saved her life and gave her a better existence than she ever had before.On the way home, I pass Peggy Peridot's empire. The mini mall combines a nail and massage studio with a snack bar, sushi included.

We change perspective

God doesn't care who lies in bed with whom, thinks Peggy. She is lying with Luciano Montana in the bed of her husband, who died in time. He brought the bed used into the marriage. Some call Luciano the godfather of Ederthal. He was ten when a hard lot made him the breadwinner of the family. He talked to his grandmother, who was not yet forty and had not had the opportunity to become fat from the weariness of life. At the bottom of her heart, she had remained the overly strong minor entrusted to a reserved boy. Until his unnatural death, the boy had shown no ambition, but a deep seriousness. His grandmother advised Luciano to support his family by grinding scissors. No one ever saw him sharpen anything other than his razor.

The family lived in San Luca above the chemical monsoon of a laundry. In their village, the 'Ndrangheta, together with poverty, extended lines of tradition. In a regime of relaxed serfdom, criminals determined the course of lifes. Since his mother's death, Luciano had been his grandmother's support and, after her, the most important person in the house. In the evenings, she sent Luciano out into the street, where he photographed tourists with a Polaroid camera and demanded a fair price for the prints. Business went well. Luciano expanded his territory. At last he was scouring the coast of the gods like a scissor grinder.

The west coast of Calabria rises above the Tyrrhenian Sea. Etruscans, Greeks, Romans, Vandals, Normans, Genoese, Spaniards and French had sought their fortune there. Luciano came to Gioia Tauro, known for its container port. A lot of Colombian coke reaches Europe from there. The importers disguise themselves as olive oil magnates. The 'Ndrangheta took care of the young man. His studious nature cried out to be put to use.

Working as a photographer taught Luciano the craft of directing as a form of domination. He staged scenes of lively joy and captured unique moments. No matter how people felt, they looked good in his photos. Luciano saw through them in seconds. He was a seducer of men and women who meant nothing to him. He despised them. He found their gullibility ridiculous. For his customers, Luciano was a generator of presence.

A capo took him to Tropea. The settlement sits on a rock forty meters above the sea. You see Stromboli. Luciano turned people into pictures again. Luciano liked best those who refused to be moved, who discovered in their indifference the power for obstinate behavior. They hurriedly emptied the fish platters, shoved pasta into their mouths, feasted or simply ate their fill, while their relatives and friends fell for the beachcomber's seductive arts.