Torsten Föllinger- is by some known, as the star of
the stars. Star in this case means ‘ Zarah Leander-Ernst Hugo Järegård, Erland
Josephson, Liv Ullman, Birgit Nilsson’ etc.
He was himself a figure whom
liked more to perform among common people, lowering his wing of humility, in a
harsh geniality, which jumped forward, exclaiming truths of joy to laugh about.
But not in any mean matter, like Ingmar Bergman, who, was his arch enemy,
mostly because Bergman wanted his actors like Liv Ullman, Erland Josephsson and
Torstens ‘best friend’ Allan Edwall, to act dirty things in front of the
camera…”He liked such things…” as Torsten driely exclaimed, and, put another
piece of cake into his mouth. Zarah Leander loved orgies and, one amusing story
is about how her husband Vidar one evening called Torsten and complained “ We
have patriates here again”. Torsten promised to come, cause, as Vidar stated;
he knew Torsten was the only one Zarah respected (or one of the few) and, if
she knew he would come, she would turn the bunch of lovers out…
Torsten unhatched the
connection to the telephone and next day travelled in his car with his bulldog
‘Smulan’ out to the mannor country house, were Zarah ‘was living’. It turned
out that Zarahs daschshund happened to arrive from the neighbour at about the
same moment and, she stood on the porch, with a brush in her hand, she
complained that the dog had been chasing after the neighbour’s , ‘in this way,
now, you have gotten yours’, and he has had his…’, it was during the time of
mating dance.
As she lifted the brush to hit
it. Torsten said
“ You aren´t going to hit the
dog are you? Slap me instead… Surely it is really me you are mad at”.
“ Go away!”…
”Do you want me to leave? I
have travelled far just to see you” There was a pause - of heartbeat - false
and true.
“Come on, you devil…”. Zarah
gestured towards the front door.
It is said Zarah Leander
boosted Herman Göring under the table, if that was when, he lived in
Liljeholmen, at Liljeholmsvägen 8A, by the harbor of Mälaren, or in
Germany when she performed for the stab of the Nazis is unsure.
“ This … old, old legend …
this …”. Torsten was once introduced for the resignation class in the Dramatic
Institute (DI). “ Yes, I am old as the grave, and Allan here is three years
younger than me” in a gesture torwards Allan Edwall.
Torstens teaching had the
following elements; ´if the performer feels pleasure the audience also will´.
In this sense teaching the essence of intercause.
“Success or fiasco, but not be
a good boy”
This was the whole of his
genial teaching in its’ essence.
He received all kinds of
peoples, not only stars. One of them who came to Torsten, at an early age, was
Ted Gärdestad. The days before his claimed suicide, he visited Torsten, asking
for assistance. The still quite young star, had become part of the bagwa sect (
in Arabic – this would implement something like an illegal fighter; and in Pali
a master of his own). All members of the sect were forced to carry the leaders
picture around their necks. Ted had become a victim of his own success and
through the intense pleasure of many girlfriends, meditative drugs and material
richess, fallen into the trap of machokism. (That is, to cause himself harm,
pain, and unreasonably strict hygiene to push his genius onwards into further
creativity for which his audience craved).
Torsten – besides his
masterwork, also extracted in the social field, as a personal guard of releast
criminals, where his rolemodel was his mothers’.
When young, he experienced his
mothers’ strength, in being fearless of bulls. The bull – backed of and
snorted, but Ingeborg didn´t care but kept on walking through the fenced yard.
The bull – backed of and snorted, but her psycic strength were such, the animal
didn´t attack. In such a way, Torsten treated criminals, with lessons of
singing. One of them used to escape from prison in the following way; he went on
lease around the prison and further on. When out of sight he began to run. His
guards chasing him. When he had tired them, he asked to be releast (of his
handcuffs?). They had to walk back alone.
One night Torsten went across
Norra Bantorget in central Stockholm. As he was about to cross, he saw a heavy
built character, approaching towards him, the opposite way “be prepared…”,
Torsten murmured to himself ‘surely it is a stiletto’.
“I need money”. A voice from a
dark shadow in the darkness of night. “Isn´t that your problem?...”. “Do you
see what I have in my hand?..”. “Really! Look…! – Isn´t that a – such – a – st
- sti – sti – sti – sti…letto!”. Torsten said in a very silly voice ‘senil –
old – idiot – panthomin’ “Damn old bastard…”, the shadow exclaimed and went
away.
“You see he couldn´t attack a
defenseless…”
His mother when he still was a
youth – sitting under a kitchen table, cutting cows and sheep from newspaper as
siluetts in his own design. There was announced; the most life dangerous intern
in Östersund (Norrland/Jämtland) had escaped from the prison. He was a life
danger! It was claimed.
His mother – sailed out in to
the stair well and exclaimed in the darkness penetratingly “Is someone there?”.
“Yes”, came an answer – it was – the life dangerous murderer,
“I do not permit you to be
running like this out in the night. Harken! You enter, and we will have a cup
of tea and a chat”
Soon – the life dangerous
intern became, like a baby in the lap of his mother…”Shouldn´t we call the
police, so they can shelter you, it´s a cold night”. ‘My mother was very firm
you see; but, she never betrayed anyone.’
Torsten always practiced
theatre in real life. As he was coming out of Dramaten in Stockholm –
whose artistic leader he were for several years, one autumn evening – he
was attacked by criminals, wanting to penetrate the building –
“We hit you down, old
bastard!”
But – Torsten – wouldn´t
permit them to get inside. He – had practiced some falling situations – already
in Calle Flygares Theaterschool. As they hit him – he fell without hurting
himself, by this surprising the burglery – robbers – who, must have thougth he
had past out. Unluckely – this didn´t work with the “healthcare” – who gave him
a shot – ‘swine – flou – vaccination’ – without his outright consent – and – he
developed a weakness which made the skincancer spread more rapidly.
He should have become 88 in
11th march 2010 – but – the 6th – he saw a very good friend - and,
read some poems. In the night – he past on – to heaven hopefully…
He spoke much about Ottar, his
best friend in his youth – who – had died out of tuberculosis,
He often – felt his presence,
and longed to die – so he could meet him again in person…
As young a gang of boys
approached him violently
“To see a gay motherfucker
like you!”.
“Think of me…I have to look
myself in the mirror everyday…”.
The leader of the gang – said
something so stupid – Torsten never remembered the thing. This made the whole
gang laugh -
“Since that day he was one of
my best friends…”
Torstens’ sadness about his
leaning towards homofili, sometimes (instilled) impressed in him such a
depressed state – he wanted to jump out of his own window. But – the
thought of his pupils climbing the five flights – to his attic appartment with
view over the woods of Nacka, on Ringvägen 163 – always cheered him up.
He spoke very pleasantly about
so called idiots, which lacked the refinery of expression.
He was a supporter of theirs’,
almost everyone loved him, and he never preached homosexuality to anyone, as
far as I know. But – always warned against perversion of intrinsic nature. He
had tried it with woman – but he wanted a man – not only to have sex with, this
he could do in two minutes in the toilet (en la toilette), but – to speak with
– to enfold – to love…really love... may Allah grant him forgiveness of his
sins, in this world – and grant him Paradise –
Aamin…
Torstens observation as Jussi Björling - was about to
take a high tune, he snored
( the opposite of harkling) Margaretha Krook personally one of the shyest
persons - used to run around in the corridors of Dramaten, in a faint
panic, hours before the show , but on stage she was perfectly calm...
The insight was ,as she, hired Torsten to participate
in one of her repetitions (Torsten recieved the price of one lesson), that
others’ critizism, and interferance, in the spontainious flow, strains the
voice.
'let Margaretha herself decide'
and the voice sprang free of bonds.
Tommy Körberg, squeezed the muscles of his buttocks in
high notes, similar to holding a fart, this elevates your own mind, and
the minds of beloved.
As you take the high tune, you look down, as shy
in bas notes,
you look up, as repenting, asking forgiveness of Allah in the sky...
each note word, is formulated by the stomache muscles
-- the more intense the piece, the harder the muscles, has to formulate...
smiling in spontainious pleasure, makes notes, and text, flow more easily.
Putting ones tongue, folded up, into ones
tonsils, and humming, will spontainiously, activate vibration from stomache
muscles, as a beutiful pillar of high clear air through the body
(according to Negro met outside Folklore
Center, Izzy Young)
movement with the arm, in forms of 'Sieg Heil' will
help the high tunes, as they flow away as an eagle, opening the mouth widely in
a smile, rolling ones eye balls in extacy.
lying on the floor imitating ducks sqeeking
not filling the chest with air, but the stomache,
as critics come just stand listening as they extend their excessive
talk, you might come to think of something
amusing 'vendetta, turn this and you might find a friend...'
***
Red Handed Ferlin
'Raina' screams Nils Ferlin in disgusting irony
a kabaree, of theathre,
he prays 'God May',
but 'may' is malplace,
brings atonal note, into the art cafee
smiles heartlessly follows with gaze the adorable beauty
'God how beautiful you are!'
gasping worshipping his lusts
panthomin of poetical life writing his own mythology
to rise, strife...?
a kabaree, of theathre,
he prays 'God May',
but 'may' is malplace,
brings atonal note, into the art cafee
smiles heartlessly follows with gaze the adorable beauty
'God how beautiful you are!'
gasping worshipping his lusts
panthomin of poetical life writing his own mythology
to rise, strife...?
Your.
I hate your cunningness
It feels like every gift you
give
Has hidden purposes, only for
you to win
As you present perspectives of
good fortune
A future free of troubles
The thankful, open up
Reveal and give much in return
Afterwards you try to buy his
soul
His freedom of tounge
And push him towards hellfire
Burn!
Who says his word never
breaks,
But takes back all given
promises
And keep on depressing acquaintances
With hopes taken back
If over-sensitive ears
Perceive a revealing attack
Rely upon persons no more
Whom with golden promises
makes people work
Juri Lina and beauty
Bonus material in Juri Linas
latest film, banned from Swedish Cinemas, was named The Recognision, produced
for Estonian Rix Television, in 1992, after the restoration of national
independance.
If we do not recognize and
fight the evil before it freezes permanently, we will have to recognize each
other without possibility to openly speak... and cry inside in a tragedy
the special recognision
between the eyes of two aartists, becomes the insight, that once they were
kings, now forced to put weapons aside, and fight side by side, for even the
permission to speak...
love, at first sight, but the
fear of betrayal a trespass into the invisible pulp, between the
recognizers, and confuses the salutation with the possibility of accusations of
madness etc.
If a people is not strong
enough to fight the evil in its cradle, soon fewer and fewer will
recognize each other.
It is like Juri Linas
audience, were an Island in a sea of burning lava.
William S. Burroughs doesnt
give time to cry over this fact because, the work needs to be done...
etc.
beginning
Schoupenhaurs wishing without
wanting, is the key to existence.
Actions are judged according
to their intentions...' it is said in the Sunnah
Juri Lina has made an artform
out of information flow
which enables the poet of
today to reconnect with the mechanistic society, and trespass the true myth,
that a poet cannot participate in modern high tech...
He can when he services the
purpose of spreading important information, through 'internet' copyright, is in
Juri Linas eyes, a question of security, we are encouraraged to only share his
art with close friends, and not bump the maniac drum, in a large display of his
genial pieces...
It might threath us, at the
spot, in longer term, Mossad would find too big interest in the author, which
could threath also his life.
Of course, he needs the money
for the product, to survive. Juri Lina, is a restorer of history, such things
which brainswash imposed upon us, as disgusting and evil, Juri Lina restores
through careful presenting information. Films like Kraftmätningen,
Lightbringers, In the shadow of Hermes, The unsatisfiable Ouroubours, a
more tense horrifying atmosphere, is created, in figuration with classical
pieces from Schostakovitj, Bach, Mozart, Toivo Kurmet, Gian Piero Reverberi, at
the same time, we look out the window 'this is real!...'
in the east, in the south,
Germany, in the west america, 'it is real'...
and we realize how vain and
futile, our dreams were of poetry, because in this reality, we decide ourselves
to restist the masonic oppresson and suddenly we have access to what opinion
today call 'reality', which is 'viritual'...
Beauty, in Juri Linas world,
stems from love of goodness, but the profound thought that beauty simply comes
from Allah as a blessing, for following His guidance, has not yet dawned on his
horizon.. Everything does not need to be constructed to fit the point.
'Lawless winged and unconfined and breaks all chains from every mind... deceit
to secrecy confined lawful cautious and refined, to everything but interest
blind, and forges fetters for the mind...'
We do not get beautiful by
contempting fat women, we do not get inspiration, by exclusively choosing
intelligent people as our companions.,. all calculations are devoid of meaning,
to die as martyrs our only choice....
The work needs to be done,
crying wailing will not awake the oppressors hearts, in most cases...
what is needed is resitance,
but we do not take the real part in the tragedy, if we refuse to cry...
Burroughs only loosenes the
words so that our true thinking is spitted out, regardless of the consequenses.
Juri Linas restoration of
reality about Franscisco Franco, Adolf Hitler, and Mussolini, is breath taking,
and, we realize, that the lie about Franco, is hindering us from understanding,
the consequences which he tried to end, in spite he wasn't allowed to send
Spanish troops to help Hungary in 1953, against the communistic oppressors,
because Eisenhower threatened with war if he did.
U.S. had always helped Sovjet
Union and financed the October 1917
So we recognize each other,
despite of the lies, and this love cracks the shell from inside.
Schoupenhauers realization,
that energy never perishes, but transforms, if we refuse to take the risk of
being jailed for 'Sieg Heil' moving our right arm, energy transforms hopefully,
into a struggle of revieling the true facts which constructed 'a Hell in Heaven
despite'
if we fear something more than
Allah, and thereby disregard Gods command, we will have to face it sooner or
later, it is the choices we do not make which leads ur finally to face the One
we Love...
the coward's disregard for
Allah's command, has finally led us to be surrounded by evil, we recognize each
others secret leanings, in the cunningly beautiful rays of evening...
Toivo Kurmet, himself, the
subject of Juri Linas latest film, became a victim of conspiration. Imprisoned
in Estonia, for one year, the probably cause, of his cancer, was in the
substances his food secretly contained.
Estonian conspirators killer their
national hero, in the modern way; through poisounous substances, 'the world
snake', 'brood of vipers'.
Besides this Juri Linas book,
Architects of deception, contains stunning facts, about Adolf Hitlers
connections into freemasonic financial supporters, and what kinds of vitamins
and minerals he would have needed instead of Theodor Morrel's (may Allah
protect us from the remembrerance of his name), Belladonna, with one word, Juri
Lina is a world genius, a classic, which will be read with ever renewed interest
generation after generation as long as his production exists.
Shellfish, have a tasty
containment, and beautiful shell - we cannot recognize, a pure soul, if we have
presupposed judgements about foreigners.
The recognition is beyond
characteristics of nations and classes.
Nationalism, is important, the
aspect we first guard, what is closest to us, family, friends, neighbours,
citites, even a nation is usually too big to fathom defending, but the usage of
homogenous language, marks the border.
If we move to a country, we
have to will become a part of that nation, and speak its language.
Thus not simply to fill our
pockets with its money, increasing its national dept, and then go!
This is robbery as stated in
the Quraan (sura 83)...
One serious flaw in Juri Linas
world view is his contempt for monotheism.
If Allah is Reality then the
“theory” or “teaching” has to be disregarded if He wills.
But Islams unique aspect is
the protection of Allah there fore named “religion”.
If a law is formed somewhere,
it is a tiny fact compared to Allah’s law, but still a fact, a part of our
reality. But an evil such, we cannot follow such an perverted movement,
rather die as martyrs .If on the other hand reality is looked upon as facts
every thing is destroyed and inner peace unachievable Allah is Fact Al Haqq,
morality therefore, is a structure to move inside - without which we are
homeless.
Allah being the source of
inspiration, therefore morality is not Reality but an aspect of our creation.
This attitude leads to
reliance upon the audience, instead of Allah so-called collective writing its
evil form communism. In modern times anti- monotheistic writers torture
themselves behinds computer screens to convince and stupefies and grows crazy
the sickness William S. Burroughs mentions in junkie to live through
hardships perversions, etc. – to be able to write about it, is deplored by Juri
Lina Andrej Tarkovskij and Toivo Kurmet.
A person calling himself
“poet” takes rights of immorality, for the sake of writing, suddenly relying
upon the “audience” and not in Allah.
But still this Novus Ordo
Seclorum art might have at least some good results if published. But the
skizophrenic aspect relying upon a publisher in disregard of Allah spoils most
of it. Computers are electronic instruments termed as “haram” because if you
hit the wrong tune you will behave well like a machine to achieve the
calculated result.
“play well” in social life is
hypocrisy –
Therefore the fingers being
forced to hit “the right” notes become a mental disease.
Your voice is affected by your
sins, your vocal cords stretches in false tunes when bad conscience, arises, it
will make you afraid to be revealed, to sing.
Instruments are expensive
imitators of voice, makes you afraid to crack them at the same time revealed as
the absence of zikhr makes you uncontrollable. Never pay a life guard (never
accept the price of a dog) there is nothing victorious in being famous,
achievable and welcomed only when some good change can be achieved by the mass
copy. Worst is being famous for something evil presented as “good”.
Rather infamous without valid
cause.
To claim to have gained
superiorial knowledge is sort of to attach oneself to the karma law when at the
same time as we take heed to the karma law we have to realize that all is
Allah’s creation.
As we miss the aeroplane we
should say praise to Allah. Money is unique for humans and what makes us free
to choose. If we come into conflict at one place we can move to another without
having to acquaint anyone. If we solely believe karma to be the highest reality
we would either think ourselves better than the other passengers or blame
ourselves for past sins. Qaburat Qalimatan (suura 18, ayat 5) is “I am better”
because Allah has never taken a son, nor is He created - our witnessing about
ourselves - becomes our fall from Allah’s will - into karma – Allah will test
us, any one of us, if He wills – with the same situations as the ones we claim
to have the better of – if we are born in a rich family, He might put us into a
poor one “next life” and thereby test us to conditions that we were aware of.
Islam is justice and the one confessing his faith in it with his heart becomes
puure.
His environment had made him
other than muslim, so the blame falls upon the deceivers. Now, finally it was
understood, and by this Islam is the ultimate reality, our Fitra.
One thing we have to take care
not to fall into as reading Juri Lina is polytheistic fascism. To regard
oneself as a name of the law might be true, but Antichrist also misuses the
karma law to convince his subjects of his right to inflict harm upon them.
Playing God, he gives us memories of bad days to convince us of his
superiority.
Christ saying in Thomas’
gospel “From the light of the world” as regards to the question where we all
come from, implements that skin color, social class, outer conditions doesn’t
matter as long as the meeting of souls, persons, humans releases the light of
love.
We might be better in Allah’s
eyes, but only Allah is allowed to state this fact ‘cause he knows what
everyone does all the time.
William S. Burroughs’ work seems to bring forth good
out of evil. By the aptness to confess your sins which makes you strive to
create good and when people have received the good work, you confess your faults
in hope to become accepted anyway - and then you hide your good actions - which
looks <sign> - the opposite of the Shytanic symbol I know yet of none in
modern times who could do such heinous actions and yet avoid to be stoned.
I feel like Moses in front of
Khidr standing with the law of the last prophet before doomsday the Sharia of
prophet Muhammad (upon him, Allah’s godful peace) and yet be unable to judge
this man. The common public of course are allowed to judge according to Sharia
- I can not - but I would advise them carefulness.
It looks like William S.
Burroughs is on some kind of a mission to prove the consequences of if we knew
what today’s world leaders are doing in their freemasonic lodges.
And also prove that
lovesickness is less severe than craving for money.
This means that our
brainwashed society where people sell their souls for a mobile telephone,
symbolically speaking, letting themselves be controlled by psychopaths are less
easily forgiven than S. Burroughs.
At least his life was his own
and ignorance is in Buddhism the biggest sin.
(Muurderer, frei mauren Berl - inn)
At the very same time William
Blake makes a profound statement - or rather - the Devil in his proverb’s of
Hell (William Blake, an author which everyone at one point have to read).
William S. Burroughs created a heaven of what he stole from the abyss, which
means his way of sins released blocks of imagination hidden from the sight of
morally rigid characters.
His aim was his authorship.
What would he have done without a publisher? Whom would have listened; “Today I
molested a child”? Cracked skull quite soon I am sure.
This was and is a serious flaw
in his enlightenment, but really to me he seems like a Walli Allah similar to
the two angels Harud and Marud whom were sent to test people by teaching them
magic. They never taught anyone without first mentioning “This is only a test,
so do not become disbelievers by putting your faith in it”.
Post Scriptum
A child should be brought up by
the hand. A harsh upbringing is the best ‘cause perverse sex is stemming
from denial of Allah’s wrath and thus sentimental objections to God’s
punishment one becomes like caught in a piece of plutonium.
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of
instruction - William Blake.
The one entering into reading
Burroughs, may Allah protect us from his sins, should ponder upon this line:
“Since the computer has X and
not the indestructible as creator we get xexped.”
William S. Burroughs, Suura 7 vers 107
Muses staff, swallows all the black magic, and William then becomes a
pensil writing to give back what they have stolen from the unseen (because the
unseen has to be a whole) to give back to the audience. Even though he had lacked
a publisher this was his mission and thus he would have been excused. This illuminating serpent is a believer; if
you read him without following the Sunnah you will be a Robert Christie (women
strangler), if though you read him as a muslim, you have access to what makes
life seem boring, and your apprehensiveness of the unseen realities becomes
stunning!
His book, The Wild Boys, is exactly a prop to mask his real work, which at
the time, was to reveal the stunning fact of The Hanging of Jerry Green and the
new type of massproducable black magic, thanks to film materia as statue.
If you are in pain, speak, even though you repeat yourself (do not be a
machokist, reluctant to repeat yourself)
The young man of Mary McCarthy, is the brown artist replica, whom does not
allow himself the relisation that idolatry is forbidden. Thus he tries to kill
with his love, as the bang utåt attack who equates sex orgasm with death, (the
Khawarijs 51, first forced moral put up as fear of an idolpicture of Islam)
The young man does this as a replica of the silver wolf, his fucking has
the goal to instigate jealousy and thus cancer in the other males, as his
uncontrollable, makes him insane. The woman dies in maternity, and the father
gets institutionalized, and the black magicians gets just another child to
sacrifice.
The Brown Artist, keeps silent in these times, the idol for which the young
man is sacrificed. They are first sentimental, but, as unluck strikes like a
scorpion, the brown artist turns a deaf ear.
Eve Riimus oppressors of
unluck…
to be corrected later
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar