OCCASIONAL COMMENTS ON PSCHO-ANALYTIC MATTERS + CONTIBUTIONS fromMICHAEL ROLOFF Member Seattle Psychoanalytic Institute and Society this LYNX will LEAP you to all my HANDKE project sites and BLOGS: http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html "MAY THE FOGGY DEW BEDIAMONDIZE YOUR HOOSPRINGS!" {J. Joyce} "Sryde Lyde Myde Vorworde Vorhorde Vorborde" [von Alvensleben]

Monday, November 7, 2011

A READING OF HANDKE'S "Singular & Plural"




The reading of one poem from THE INNERWORLD OF THE OUTWORLD OF THE INNERWORLD: Singular and Plural [a.k.a. "The Turk"] then, later this week, my take on Ms. Weller and the discipline's dealings with Handke's poetic texts.

On a bench in the park sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: I am sitting on a bench in the park next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: We are sitting on a bench in the park, I and a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: A Turk with a thickly bandaged finger is sitting with me on a bench in a park.

We are sitting on a bench in the park gazing out on the pond, and I see something swimming in the pond, and the Turk is gazing out on the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see an object swimming in the pond, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass, propelled by swimming ducks, making its way to the shore, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass swimming shoreward, propelled by swimming ducks, and then I see the tuft of grass floating away from the shore, propelled by ducks swimming in the opposite direction, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass that, propelled by swimming ducks, was about to be washed ashore and then, propelled by ducks swimming in the opposite direction, was about to be washed back into the middle of the pond and now, propelled by ducks intersecting the two groups of ducks that are swimming in the opposite direction, float suspended in place, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see an object I took to be a tuft of grass or something I took to be an object that I believed was a tuft of grass suddenly disappear after it had moved in place, and I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot: that is to say, I am startled or, I am startled, that is to say, I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot, and no longer move at all, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a duck surfacing with a tuft of grass in its bill, and I am tired of gazing and am satisfied, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond and, without seeing anything, I remember the sports writer who talked about death, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

A Turk and I, we are sitting in the park on a bench and are gazing at the pond: I am sitting in the park on a bench next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: I am sitting on a bench in the park next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: next to me on the bench in the park there suddenly sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger which he is extending away from his other fingers: in the park on a bench sits a Turk with nine unimpaired fingers which he presses to the palpeter-hhandke-wounded-love-childms of his hands: on a bench in the park sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger and gazes out at the pond.

   

This is what ought to be called a "self-state" text. The title of the collection THE INNERWORLD OF THE OUTERWORLD points in that direction. Elliot famously termed the phrase "objective correlative," correlative will do, objective? who is to judge? Seeming adequate, "good enough," getting close to, approximate to what?

The self and its many elves. Which and to what degree might have possessed the 26 year old Piotr Sivec-Schoenherr-Handke to put him in the state of mind to find and judge these several superficially same-seeming stanzas an adequate expression of his own self-state and sufficiently emblematic to serve as a projection screen for a potential reader? With a variety of dramas going on barely beneath, occasionally breaking through the attempt to maintain as near perfect virtuoso grammatical surface as that of the nearly unbroken surface of a pond... a state of revery.

To becalm himself in gazing, in reverying? To encorcel himself with grammatical variations. Language and body and eyes and what is beheld rocking moving in synchronicity, which breaks down on a few times...

This is a communicable state.

Self-states are grasped, conceptually, there are other graspings, most successfully by the rubric of psychoanalsis called "self-psychology."

What are the most noticeable immediate features of this text?

Well, let's start with this "Turk". He is clearly identified, the author tells us not whether he is wearing a turban as which a European or American reading this text 100 years ago might have outfitted him in their then cliche imaginations, his only real identifying feature is that he has a thickly bandaged finger [why not just a bandaged finger?], and that, as is often the case under such wounded circumstances, he is holding it away from the other fingers on that hand. He has nine unwounded fingers, two hands, at one point he is however holding his fingers away from both hands, either the pain is very great or he is as naive as a child, he might be of rural origin. Is he over-compensating? Can he not tell one hand from the other? Is this a species of imaginatively doubled pain?

We are not told which finger it is that is impaired.

Do I have a particular contemporary image of "a Turk" in my mind? Not really, but I do have a now no doubt dated one of Turkish guest workers in German railway stations.

But why not "a man", or "someone"?

Well that's not the drama of it is it? The drama would seem to entail a split, the "I" and "the Turk" who however are doing the same damned gazing, but sat down as we find out in the course of the text after the narrator was seated on the bench, next to him. Do we even need the Turk? Couldn't it just be I and my wounded finger sitting on the bench? Maybe the Turk is like the unwounded fingers that are being held at the greatest possible distance from the source of pain? Something seen, the seeing of a split. But "a Turk" might really have sat down next to Handke and then become a projection screen for his alter ego. However, the narrator is not engaged with him in the endless dialogue going on in fantasy, with one's alter ego [s].


Perhaps there really was a Turk by a pond [the poem was written in 1968 in Berlin, with a quickly increasing but then entirely un-assimilated Turkish guest worker population] whom Handke noticed and identified and empathized with [?]. It makes no difference, the very name, the pointedness of it makes him [Handke's Turk] an outsider, he is identified and identification differentiates him,  he feels outside no matter what, he is different. What if instead of "the Turk" we had "A Lefthanded Woman" sitting next to the narrator, to the grammatical I? After all, linguistically, the poetic text points to the mind's involvement in grammatical formulations, their correctness adequateness, the world is being turned into language, we notice the very activity of this happening,
it fusses to try to get it right, for language not just to mimic what is going on but to be linguistically at one and the same place, language as a kind of snake skin:

and I see an object I took to be a tuft of grass or something I took to be an object that I believed was a tuft of grass suddenly disappear after it had moved in place, and I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot: that is to say, I am startled or, I am startled, that is to say, I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot, and no longer move at all,

As a matter of fact, the narrator is staring so fixedly at the tuft of grass being propelled this and that way by our delightful and delightfully distracting feathered friends that he becomes disturbed by disappearance of the tuft of grass that is being shoved around. Absence causes a disturbance. In him and in the grammaticality of the text. It is no longer declarative. Doubt, uncertainty disturb the perfect surface parallel to the disturbance that occurs in the pond with ducks diving and resurfacing. The idyll in the park is marred a little.

 The reappearance of the tuft of grass resolves the disturbance; is followed by relief, the status quo ante has been achieved... A surface drama hinting at what larger dramas underwater?

Handke has said, and I believe him, that he does not revise. He does change the occasional last sentence in his texts, and as he has matured, makes alterations in galleys particularly now that he has written monstrums of the kind that he once said he never would. Whether he wrote pieces like Kaspar and Ride Across Lake Constance in full swoop? For a long time he never spent more than three months on a text, including, it appears, Die Hornissen, Der Hausierer, Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick, Short Letter Long Farewell, Sorrow Beyond Dreams. A Moment of True Feeling, The Lefthanded Woman... The fairly complex six-stranded [1994] 250,000 word novel "Nomansbay" was proudly woven together in one year, the sort of book that no end of U.S. authors are proud to complete by hook and by crook in 10 to 20 years, to hosannas, especially that of spouses if they have cheering spouses left, and Handke made some cuts in galleys, he could have made just a few more.

So one could fairly safely assume that "Singular and Plural" was written right there on the spot, its grammaticality points to its incidental nature, since Handke always carried a note book and pencil with him which he would produce from one second to the next. From writing so-called truly incidental poems to writing down involuntary associations in Weight of the World takes barely a half step. Incidental, occasional texts, even then tied to a place, an event.



What would you do if you sat next to someone with an injured finger? I myself, under similar circumstances, would have pointed to the finger and said: "Ola, Compadre [or "Amigo"], que pasa?" since it is far more likely for me to find myself sitting next to a homesick Central American, while I however, have little of Handke's then, homesickness left in me.

For I connect this, as per Handke, with the homesickness he felt when he went to his first boarding school, the Griffen Seminary, at age 12 I believe. Homesick for a gruesome home!? [well, not the mother wasn't, but the situation as a whole? for sure, yet there was the grandfather! The apparently monstrous stepfather]. With what Handke called "that hangnail feeling", the kind of feeling Freud's Little Hans must have endured when he thought he'd been bitten by that horse.

A gazing Turk, he keeps a thickly bandaged wounded finger away from his hand and his gaze peeled on the pond and its compliment of ducks; he is trying to distract himself, by holding the finger away from his hand, a customary act under the circumstances, and his gaze away from the finger. That the finger is wounded is an assumption, a projection. The looking away, the trying to focus on distractions is an act of defense as is the poem, the text in its entirety.

 Who knows how he injured his finger? If Handke were writing a poem about a Turk who had cut his finger on a Berlin Weisswurst-making-machine, he would have told us. So there is just a wounded finger which might or might not be symbolic, but evidently sufficiently painful as to need to be disregarded as much as possible  by extending the other nine unimpaired fingers away from both hands... an odd sight... is the pain that excruciating?

 A wounded finger elicits some sympathy. All by himself it appears at a pond but lots of our feathered friends who during the course of the the stanzas prove more and more amusing and unpredictable, more of a distraction, worth watching. It will not be long they will come up to the two bench warmers and tug at the cuffs of their pants to be fed?

   If it is symbolic and sufficiently painful, the injured finger might point to an injured sense of self. It might point to a state of continuous injury, it might or might not connect with the love child Handke's exposure, as of age two, to a decades' worth of violent drunken violations of his mother, during  which he learned to cover his eyes, to look away, yet to peek, it might be what is called "a residue", a sequelae.

 More specifically the injured finger might point in the direction of the castration anxiety that was induced during that exposure, but which bebe Peter overcame in his rage by masturbating, where the pleasurable and tension releasing elements of this activity would seem to be the least important within the internal psychic economy... mastery of the fright... which became Handke's special forte when he has a pencil in hand. The diary work book "The History of the Pencil" does not address that core component. But the famous sentence: "I feel so anxious but everything I the write is then so calm" ... this certainly is one instance of this action which re-occurrs within the mind of a genuine reader. The artist poet as surrogate on that level. These are possible associations of someone familiar with Handke and aspects of Psychoanalysis... 


There are alternatives to writing, reporting this scene? Par ejamplo:
"You know the other day..."

But it was written, probably in one fell swoop. A further distraction away from the painful state, the act of writing itself an overcoming, a becalming. In the last paragraph a status quo ante has been achieved.

However, Handke ritualizes it through a variety of stanzas; once will not do, we need theme and variation; it ritualizes somewhat like a a rosary; the performance of the ritualization at the moment of competition and completion [for all we know, it was written in one draft] right there and then by whatever nameless pond in whatever nameless region.


Yes, there really would not have been anything wrong with writing "a pond in Berlin" [perhaps it was the Krumme Lanke?] But putting in the city name would have taken away from the singularity of "Turk", the pond, the bench with its two bench warmers and added a superfluous Berlin aura to the poem; delimited the clean focus, adding an unnecessary variable.

"Singular and Plura", the title, too, is a pushing away of fingers. The title could also be "The face of Mastrello Mastriano"... the perfect surface of the text is like a movie actor's mask... one eye brow twitches, a duck dives underwater... a mask... a projection screen for the audience...

It takes a fairly cool character to discociate that successfully. that i think is what people mean when they regard the irascible handke as cold. that too was learned during that terrifying decade.

This short text could also be a 25  minute film.

The intention, after all, is not to write a report for a newspaper, the Krumme Lanke Weekly, it is meant to be a display, to be admired, of a particular performance, of the performance of writing oneself into something approximating an idyllic becalmed state. It is a small victory over fright. "Look, Ma! No hands!" It is also a virtuoso performance, the texts from "Innerworld" were written during Handke's virtuoso period, Kaspar, Ride, etc.
 
And so the pond, too, remains nameless. Ponds reflect of course, the author does not tell us whether this pond is muddy, considering those busy ducks and those tufts of grass one presumes at Duck Soup, not at the clearest of reflections. Still as the pond is... right, what is the need of those ducks, they could easily be edited out? just like the city has been. Then we would have looked, found our reflection in the pond for sure. But would have lacked a distraction. So, conceivably, with that wounded finger and feeling generally lonely and lousy we do not want to look at ourselves in the mirror.

Three stanzas with a good deal of repetition, fairly minimal variation. But if you were the kind of supercilious Philistine jerk that said to me that this is like a cuckoo clock you would incur my eternal wrath.

 Sort of like a dream that is tried out a number of times, until it is acceptably formed to pass the governess well dressed into consciousness.

"The Turk" is nearly entirely becalmed, he has ritualized himself into a state of reverie... the state an analyst finds himself in when listening into his patient on the couch... and the killer sentence surges up out of the unconscious: "And he thought of the sportswriter who wrote about death."
Not just a writer, no end of writers have death on their minds. But a "sportswriter"...sports writers have the nicest of jobs, they have nearly as much fun as the lifelong kids they write about. So a "sportswriter" who writes about death, now it's getting serious; this is far worse than the wounded finger. Perhaps that is that whiff of longing of leaping into the pond.

Once more now..

On a bench in the park sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: I am sitting on a bench in the park next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: We are sitting on a bench in the park, I and a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: A Turk with a thickly bandaged finger is sitting with me on a bench in a park.

We are sitting on a bench in the park gazing out on the pond, and I see something swimming in the pond, and the Turk is gazing out on the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see an object swimming in the pond, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.
 [One eye seems constantly peeled on the Turk, as though we are looking both straight ahead and to the side at one and the same time. A split.]

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass, propelled by swimming ducks, making its way to the shore, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass swimming shoreward, propelled by swimming ducks, and then I see the tuft of grass floating away from the shore, propelled by ducks swimming in the opposite direction, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a tuft of grass that, propelled by swimming ducks, was about to be washed ashore and then, propelled by ducks swimming in the opposite direction, was about to be washed back into the middle of the pond and now, propelled by ducks intersecting the two groups of ducks that are swimming in the opposite direction, floats suspended in place, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see an object I took to be a tuft of grass or something I took to be an object that I believed was a tuft of grass suddenly disappear after it had moved in place, and I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot: that is to say, I am startled or, I am startled, that is to say, I stop moving my head in time with the object on one and the same spot,
 [the disturbance reflected in the grammar] and no longer move at all, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

We are gazing at the pond, and I see a duck surfacing with a tuft of grass in its bill, and I am tired of gazing
[something happened just now, to make the narrator tired and angry... what is it? is it the sentence in the following paragraph with the thought about the sportswriter?]and am satisfied, and the Turk is gazing at the pond:]

We are gazing at the pond, and, without seeing anything,
 [Handke, suffering from occasional color blindness, has he seen black just now?] I remember the sports writer who talked about death, and the Turk is gazing at the pond.

A Turk and I, we are sitting in the park on a bench and are gazing at the pond: I am sitting in the park on a bench next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: I am sitting on a bench in the park next to a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger: next to me on the bench in the park there suddenly sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger which he is extending away from his other fingers: in the park on a bench sits a Turk with nine unimpaired fingers which he presses to the palms of his hands: on a bench in the park sits a Turk with a thickly bandaged finger and gazes out at the pond.


Of course I did not read the poem this way when I translated it in the early 70s. I found it intriguing, beautifully formed, it is also a finger exercise if you were a pianist, you are showing your mastery,  and wanted merely to be adequate as I could do that. It is a virtuoso performance of trying to keep the world of perceptions, of perceived phenomena and the world of words in synchronous state, it is just that matters keep popping up from below! As in Ride Across Lake Bottom Lake There are these disturbances, wounded fingers, thoughts of death, if only it were just tufts of grass!

Michael Roloff


Saturday, September 3, 2011

DER FALL FRANZ KRAHBERGER - FRANZ'S GEHIRN FURZERL

VOR EIN PAAR WOCHEN ERREICHTE MICH WIEDER EIN SCHWALL VON "kraehendreck" AUS EINEM LOCH DES UNGESUNDEN FRANZ KRAHBERGER & TAEGLICH 
dank, du  gespaltenes stinkttier rollaffe

so machst du meine website bekannter, ohne das ich mich anstrengen muss

ueber mein amusement wirst du in der naechsten zeit im newsflush lesen duerfen

du leverfleckerl

es gibt einen aborigenes stamm, die gehen bloss mit stab und schlinge aus

werden sie angegriffen, holen sie sich den feindlichen boomerang vom himmel

dann wird er retourniert

pass auf, du schaebiger glatz- und preussischer grunzkopf


dein nach mir ausgesandter  boomerang ist bereits im retourflug und fliegt gewiss nicht an dir vorbei


du grossmaul, der ein grossjaeger sein wollte

du darfst dich in den chor der angsthasen und witternden erdmaennchen einreihen

und pinkel dich nach an,  du gichtiger sackwixer
  
  redact@ejournal.at
Franz Krahberger 

franz.krahberger@ejournal.at
WAHRSCHEINLICH? TOTGANZSICHER IST KRAHBERGER DAS VERPOENTESTE GESCHOEPF IN WIEN!


2015-08-08 1:20 GMT-07:00 Franz Krahberger <krahberger@ejournal.at>:
na du kleines saudiarabisches schweinchen und ziegenficker  mit IS  kalifatsstaatsmanieren

wahrscheinlich arbeitest du als  einer aus dem che guevara fanclub fuer bin ladens alkaida


drecksack,  du hast aber ein duennes nervengeflecht, ein  luckertes nesselhemd


wollen mann sehen was die CIA und die NSA dazu sagt

in memo pat garrett   statemarshall

besten dank fuer dein up-date

da weiss deine sippe wenigstens, woran sie mit dir ist

du hirnoederl

ueber den wert deiner bekanntschaften darf  gezweifelt werden

wer auf dich hereinfaellt,  an dem darf gezweifel werden , alvensleberl

du pisskopf / dein fischkopf stinkt schon lange


vergiss nicht deine hetzkampagne wider mich und dein aufforderung
an deinen ludolf alvensleben junior mir mit seinem BMW kabriolet an
den leib zu ruecken

das ist ab jetzt aktenkundig, du stinktier

du bist ein geistesgestoerter verbrecher
  


die alte mistsau die kreatur aus dem schwabchen misthaufen spritz immer noch den selben giftigen mist aus ihrem von mistkaefern zerfressenem gehirn!
wie ist es eigentlich moeglich kleinlich sowie dumm zur selben zeit zu sein? glaubst du dass ich mich kuemmer darueber ob ich micht vetipp wenn einer canaille  wie dir was geschickt wirst?

du has teilnehmer am 20 juli despektiert der ludolf jr. ist auf dem weg nach wien den alten ziegenficker zu verpruegeln, wie alle jungen alvensleben ist er bmw cabriolet sport automobiliert! augen auf dann auf dem weg!, schneller humpeln auf sklerotischen syphilitischen kraehen beinenkruecken!

ich bin weder kleinlich noch dumm, ich roll dich ganz einfach, du narr,
ich halt dich am langen faden am schmaeh und dreh dir eine lange
nase nach der anderen

wie alle in deiner familie seid ihr den hohenzollern in arsch gekrochen,
ihr konntet ja nicht anders

heutzutage  ist deutlich geworden, wie dumm die hohenzollern sind
wie dumm erst  muss da gescherr sein, die sie um sich versammelt haben

ich haette den 20. juli beleidigt ? ihr affen seid seit 1918 weg vom fenster,
und beeinflusst mit der drehtuerenluege des 20.juli  noch immer deutschland.
man hat euch den titel gelassen, den besitz hat man euch genommen
den wollt ihr haben, bekommt ihr aber nicht. auch helmut kohl hat zu
dieser forderung nein gesagt.

ihr seid nichts wert. eure zeit ist schon lange abgelaufen.  auch dieses
deutschland, dass die deinen nach 1945 mit manipuliert haben, ist nichts
mehr wert

mann, du bist doch zu dumm, deine notdurft sauber zu verrichten

wer soll unterwegs sein ? ludolf des ns kriegsverbrechers sohn mit BMW cabrio

weisst du, ich kenne  angehoerige des hauses  wittelbach seit langen und man
kennt mich

einer davon ist prinz poldi, der rennfahrer, sohn einer hohenzollern, von der
sich sein vater allerdings scheiden hat lassen. recht so

poldi,  rennfahrer und testfahrer bei BMW.

der ist auf keinen fall so ein dummer hund, wie du es bist, obwohl er
eine hohenzollern zur mutter hat

ich erachte diese deine mail, deren letzten absatz vor allem, fuer eine gemeingefaehrliche
drohung und werde sie meinen anwalt und notar fuer den fall der faelle 

2015-08-04 1:51 GMT-07:00 Franz Krahberger <krahberger@ejournal.at>:
klemm dir dein faulig missratenes stueck in die faschiermaschine, du skunk
und speis  den mischmasch, der da rauskommt, selbst auf

aus dir kann man keinen sauberen waschbaeren mehr machen

Von: mikerol [mailto:mikerol@gmail.com]
Gesendet: Dienstag, 04. August 2015 06:51
An: Franz Krahberger <franz.krahberger@ejournal.at>
Betreff: Fwd: [Werkblatt] Ärzte-Zeitung: Was macht einen schönen Penis aus?

          Franz Krahberger          
HIER ERSTMAL EINE SAMMLUNG DIESER ERGUESSE DIE ICH SCHON SEIT MEHR ALS ZEHN JAHRE PERIODISCH ERHALTE. 
 (1)

Franz Krahberger’s
 Gehirn Furzerl
Wie ist es moeglich, dass der vollkommen verlogene, meutehaftige, sich als spaetgeborener Anti-Nazi gerierender Uebernazi, psychotisch geisteskranke, an Suff und scheinbar an Gehirn-verstuemmelung oder Syphilis Vergiftung leidende, alles schlechtmachende, homophobe Franz Krahberger – jetzt – Mitte April 2013 - lässt sich dieser fiese primitive Kerl,  aus dem verruchten Neanderischen Krahberger Tal stammend, sich auch noch mit Handke und dessen Verlegern ein!

"du volltrottel, fick den handke peter
der hat immer schon ausgesehen wie ein verpatztes maedchen
und weil er eine verkappte schwule nummer ist,
hat er sich gegenueber seinen frauen so grausam aufgefuehrt die colbin bekommt heute nioch schuettelfrost, allein wenn sie
den namen handke hoert gottseidank ist ihr die eiterbeule rolaffalvenslahm erspart geblieben)

der nicht nur die von Vogeltanz und Krusche eingeleiteten Gerichts-verfahren verloren, auch den Verleumdungs Prozess von Timo von Choltnitz in München letztes Jahr
 
 
Hier der Link zu Krahbergers vollkommenen verlogenen und bankrotten Versuch - der sich nicht einmal eine Fahrkarte nach Muenchen leisten kann um zu zu Verteiding aufzutreten -  das Urteils das gegen ihn gefaellt wurde zu verdrehen!

http://www.ejournal.at/Info/0020011/coltiz.html

ja warum warum warum wird dessen Schweinezeug immer noch angeblich vom Marbacher Archiv und Oestreichischen und anderen Archiven gesammelt?

http://www.ejournal.at/Info/meinkomm.html

und unterstuetzt vom Oestreichen Staat, anstatt samt seinem Erzeuger wieder in einem Krankenhaus zu landen?
Momentan gibt es Strafanzeige von der Familie von Alvensleben, Verleumdung – in dieser riesiegen Familie gab es einen besonders graesslichen Kriegsverbrecher waehend der Nazi Zeit; darauf hin uebt Krahberger auf gute Naziart Sippenhaft, ein teurer Spass wird’s ihm geworden sein!
Sogar verhunzt er auch meine eher heroische Mutter vide das Buch von Charlotte Pommer im Lukas Verlag
Alles was aus der Tastatur von Krahberger stammt gehoert ja nicht mal in ehrwuerdige Misthaufen oder Jauchegrube, es hat nicht mal Schrott Wert! z.b.

“rollaff voegelt keine maedchen, nur buben und echten ziegen er ist so ein stinktier, so wie es billy the kid gewesen ist..)
ihr alten narren habt eine gute leistung hingelegt. ihr habt euren bockmist
an alle moeglichen adressen geschickt und ich konnte passend entgegnen.
fleissig wird und habt bloss einen boomerang verfertigt, der auf dem weg
zurueck zu euch ist

ihr vermoosten greenhorns

erspart euch die antwort, der von euch verspritzte dreck kehrt garantiert
immer zu euch zurueck, ihr dilettanten

rollerchen, wie gehts dir mit dem peter. war der nicht eine unerfuellte liebe
von dir ???

grotesk, wenn man sich vorstellt, wie so alte muede saecke sich dem
zeitgemaessen hedonismus hingeben

mann,.ihr seid ein eimer voll von fauligen heringen

roloff, erzaehlst du auch, dass du mit hilfe des netzes auf aufreisstour
gehst ? harrasments of a dirty old man


schaem dich, du narr

we never except you

du preussischer rotzwixer

the american convent for freedom, peace and friendship


dein muster, rollaffe ist schon lange erkannt

steck dir deinen stinkefinger in deinen kotzmund


the master of aborigines boomerang

sir francis drake

so eine muede lutschnummer, wie du bist
darf vergessen werden


FOR EVER

FRANCIS : CROWMOUNTAIN :

fick doch den alten mueden serbischen handke in den arsch


so ein skunk, und nicht mehr. darf vergessen werden


RUE ASTOR FOREVER

du kleine preussennute


dreckige arschgefickte laus

du verdienst keine besser antwort

und jetzt zeig mal, was du zbsps. mit minden noch  kannst


du bist doch schon lange ein oper der schwaren schwaene


es bleibt zu hoffen, dass sie dich endlich fuer immer aus der
geschichte wegschaffen


und sag deinem freud choltitz, er ist entbehrlich so wie die NSu

du  bastard

warum tritt dich  niemand in den arsch, du  amerikanisierte preussenhure


hau doch endlich ab, du grenzdementer psychopath,
der notorsich ursache und wirkung verwechselt
die ursache bist du selbst und letztendlich die geleimte rute,
die sich selbst faengt
roloff du bist shizophren
jekyl weiss nie, welche dummheiten hyde begeht
du bist ein erbaermliches heruntergekommenes aristo-kretin
wahrscheinlich wirst du noch geil, wenn man dich wie
den letzten arsch schimpft
du hast gewiss einen  dauerdachschaden der sehr weit zurueckreicht
00 

pSycherl alvine michaela

wernher von braun / gehlen / naumann demoskopie / usw. plus die SM schwuchtel MICKRIG  roloff, der aussieht
wie eine verschlagene hyaene / karajan  bipapo

der transatlantische notdurft pakt,,,”

Eine grosse wachsende Sammlung dieser Art, Ausbrüche, Krahberger’s Gehirn Furzerl - wie wir's nennen  – ein sich verfetzendes  - eine Auswahl von zehn Jahre lange verrueckter Beschimpfungen, Verpoebelungen, ein Dossier das sich über Jahrzehnte erstreckt – sowie eine Analyse des Falls befindet sich hier 
==================

From: "Armin Leuchtenburg" 
To: redact@ejournal.at
Subject: handke/verleumdung
Date: Mon, 18 Oct 2004 02:00:13 +0200

 

kraehberger:
ich schrieb von VERLEUMDUNG! ich hoffe nur, dass Suhrkamp, etc + Handke einen so miserablen Aufklärer wie sie vors Gericht ziehen. Ein mistvieh wie sie sollte doch mal endlich einen auf den kopf kriegen. Handke hat nie etwas nicht eingestanden, per Srebrenice. Dass er zugibt er wuerde es gern verneinen ist eine Ehrlichkeit deren sie wohl nicht mal als kind fähig gewesen wären. Kommen se mal nach bremen, ich würd sie schon gern zu 'ner fahrt auf der leuchtenburger chaussee einladen, so in richtung teufelsmohr.  Wünsche:
Lassen, sie mich mit ihrem unfug in ruh. ihr a.l.





 

Franz Krahberger schrieb am 13.10.04 20:52:24:
herr leuchtenburg,
allein, dass sie meinen namen in kraehberger umschreiben, zeigt von der kleinlichen
art ihres denkens.
schade, wenn einer kein licht ist und trotzdem leuchtenburg heisst
da haett sich schon der lichtenberg einen gezwinkert.
schaut ein lichtlein in die welt hinein, wird keine leuchte daraus hervorgehen.
seien sie froh, dass ich ihnen die hardcore fassung von lichtenberg himself
erspart habe !
und so ist das auch mit den schreibmanikern handke und jelinek, die ihre
einfallslosigkeit hinter ungeheurem satzwerk verstecken.
das ist mir schon lange zu langweilig und masochist bin ich auch nicht.
ich tu mir weder die eine noch die andere tortur an.
ich stelle fest, dass sowohl handke wie auch die jelinek eine fast totalitaer
zu nennende lesergemeinde haben. bei der jelinek ist mir das klar, warums
beim handke auch so ist, weiis ich nicht genau zu sagen. wegen dem
hatte ich schon oefter zoff.
wahrscheinlich weil er botschaften aus mimosenburg fuer mimen und mimosem
schreibt. verzeihen sie, aus dem elfenbeineren turm an seine still und
widerspruchslos lauschende wie lesende lesergemeinde
ihre denunziantenmentalitaet zeigt sich darin, dass sie die mail an
mich gleich auch an die oberlehrer vom suhrkamp verlag weitergeleitet
haben.
tschuess baba und verrenken sie ihr hirn nicht fuer handke peter
es zahlt sich nicht aus
 
with best regards   franz krahberger
 
electronic journal literatur primaer
http://www.ejournal.at
wellknown in the global webworld
 
und
 a ja, noch etwas
beste gruesse an den spaetleuchter enzensberger
siehe
Armin Leuchtenburg schrieb:
Herr Kraehberger:
In Ihrem Schreibsel zu Jelinek's Nobel Preis befindet sich auch folgende Verleumdung von Peter Handke:
"Das trivial popzeitmässige an Jelineks Werk ist die konzeptbedingte Nähe zur österreichischen Realität und Gegenwart.
Dass sie jedoch dem Srbrenice Leugner und pro Miloseviv Propagandisten Peter Handke den Preis mehr wünscht als sich selbst, ist einmal mehr eine der verqueren Verschrobenheiten des sogenannten österreichischen Literaturbetriebes mit internatonalen Verästelungen.
Lieber den Preis an die Jelinek als an den Handke !"
Angeblich stehen Sie in der Tradition der Aufklaerung. Haetten Sie Handke's Texte Sommerlicher Nachtrag & Rund um das Tribunal gelesen, anstatt sich auf noch andere Verleumdungen zu verlassen, wuerde Ihnen solche Bloedheiten und Verleumdungen nicht so schnell ins  E-Journal geraten.
Armin Leuchtenbburg 
  


You know, Franz, yours is the kind of letter that might just make me change my mind. I think I wrote you that I am an election worker this week, and it looks like next as well. So cool it! The only reason I made the offer is because there was a time when your did respectable work. Hans Kohut observered that human beings were redeemable as long as they had not lost their sense of humor. More on that subject anon.


Franz Krahberger  wrote:
roloff
sie haben ihr versprechen nicht eingehalten !
ich glaube ihnen auch nicht, dass sie das passwort vergessen haben.
ich habe ihre schmierfinken site, die sie da ueber mich angelegt
haben, anders in erinnerung. sie manipulieren die texte und
mails offensichtlich willkuerlich.
prinzip der freien montage, so ist es doch, mike roloff
sie geben in ihren mails  an, sie waeren mitglied des
seattle psychanalytic institute.
in ansehung ihrer aktion kommt man jedoch zur auffassung,
dass sie eher ein pathologischer fall sind, der dort in behandlung
steht.
noch etwas faellt auf. sie fuehren sich auf wie eine hysterische
nicht  erhoerte und sitzen gelassene tunte.
abgesehen davon, dass mir die neigung dazu fehlt. wer will
mit einem solchen typen, wie sie es sind, schon  zu tun haben.
bei ansehung der fotos, die von ihnen im web zu finden sind,
fiel mir ein satz ein, mit dem kennedy tricki dick aus dem
rennen geworfen hat:
wuerden sie von diesem mann einen zweitwagen kaufen ?
klarerweise nein !!!
auch ihre drohungen mit einem anwalt sehe ich gelassen.
sie haben jetzt im mailwechsel leuchtenburg und
mir gegenueber  genuegend mitgeteilt bzw. zugegeben
, das offen gegen sie spricht.
entfernen sie ihre schmierfinkensite. andernfalls erscheint
eine roloff dokumentation, die um einiges praeziser sein
wird, als die rote seite alte schmiede.
rote karte fuer sie, roloff
es gibt  noch andere mittel und wege, um sie zur
raison zu bringen, ohne die gerichte bemuehen zu muessen.
was nun die dienste anlangt. sie haben mir gegenueber
mehrmals mit kontakten zur c i a und anderen
diensten geprahlt.
doch welcher dienst der welt leistet es sich, so einen
wie sie auf dauer auf der lohnliste zu halten.
es scheint so, als ob sie out of business sind, wild
herum schlagen und strudeln und ihren frust an mir
auslassen.
auch handke erweisen sie ein baerendienst. das alles
ist sehr schaebig,  roloff.
verwenden sie noch den letzten funken ihres offensichtlich
gestoerten verstandes, lassen sie sich das freeserver
password einfallen und entfernen sie die dreckssite.
dann werde ich von weiteren massnahmen wider
sie abstand nehmen.
 
f.k.
 
dont worry and hurry up
ps: bei ansehung ihrer methoden gewinnt man den eindruck,
dass sie in heydrichs truppe geschult worden sind.
das geht sich zwar mit ihrem alter nicht ganz aus. aber immerhin
gibt es mittelbare kontakte ihrer mama in der canarientruppe,
von der sie  mir erzaehlt haben,  alvensleben
 
bei grosseren problemen mit ihrer psyche und herkunft
wenden sie sich bitte an das papageien sanatorum praha,
direkt an dr. rolf affe




 
Michael Roloff schrieb:
 Do you really think I would change the names in the Schwab play? Not to unduly worry. Will remove the site as soon as I find the password! Hadn't looked at it in years until this fellow from Bremen called my attention to it & you then sent him the link to the Alte Schmiede. I don't trust this Leuchtenburg in the least, no matter that we agree on the fact that you distort Handke. Handke is only really wrong when he thinks that all that Miloscevics is is an autocract, as usual, solipsistic as our autist can so often be, he is only talking about himself; on the other hand, sometimes his "I" is , as he says and wishes, far more than just himself. so he is worth reading and studying in the same manner in which you once did other authors.... to good effect all around unless one becomes too schoolmasterly for one's own good. That's a nice Tempest quote indeed, I would not have had it that handy, if at all. The MAOdoes not derive from him, but a contemporary people's republic sculptor, and i regard it as the most impossibly ludicrously idealistic slogan still around.but how are you to fathom those possibly sophisticated reasons?
 MICHAEL ROLOFF
Visiting Scholar, Germanics
University of Washington
Member Seattle Pschoanalytic Institute
http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html
http://www.handke.scriptmania.com2069537346@mobile.att.net e.g: MAY THE FIREPLUG OF FILIALITY REINSURE YOUR BUNGHOLE!"May the Red Sun of Mao Shine in your Hearts"


Do you Yahoo!?
Read only the mail you want - Yahoo! Mail SpamGuard.


MICHAEL ROLOFF Visiting Scholar, Germanics
University of Washington
Member Seattle Pschoanalytic Institute
http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html
http://www.handke.scriptmania.com
2069537346@mobile.att.net e.g: MAY THE FIREPLUG OF FILIALITY REINSURE YOUR BUNGHOLE!
"May the Red Sun of Mao Shine in your Hearts" 

http://analytic-comments.blogspot.com/2011/09/der-fall-krahberger.html
Das komplette Dossier auf Anfrage als PDF.
Ich hatte einmal ein Teil meiner ersten einfuehlenden Versuche Handkes Stellungsnahme zu dem Zerfall Jugoslaviens
zu dessen Verteidigung der Serben auf der Krahberg Site. Ich war dem Handke nicht besonders gut gesinnt zu der Zeit und haette mich leicht der Meute beifuegen koennen, wollte aber zu einem reinen Verstaendnis der Angelegenheit kommen. Das REINE Verstaendnis! Mein Beitrag wurde dann fuer Krahberger’s Handke Hetze misbraucht - der Kerl gibt vor English lesen zu koennen! Stimmt kaum! Ausserdem hat er auch nicht die Handke Texte gelesen – faul, dumm, boese, versoffen - bezeichnet er Handke noch immer der Verneinung des Uebels in Srebrenice – was der Krahberger wohl alles sich selber nicht eingesteht! Dieser Erznazi! Ein spaetgeborener angeblicher Anti-Nazi, Sippenhaftler wie ein ein echter Nazi sich nur einen wuenschen kann! Wenn das die Oestrichische Aufklaerung ist…

Weiteres und aehnliches ueber Krahberger kann man bei den im cc Feld genannten anfordern
Martin Krusche,                Ullrich von der Schulenburg,    Joerg Vogeltanz,                Timo von Choltitz,               und sicherlich vielen anderen die die selbe Erfahrung mit diesem auch noch erzdummen Primitiven gemacht haben.  Dumm, dem Suff verfallen, boese - was gibt's schlimmeres? Humorlos faellt er auch noch auf alles rein was ihm das Elekron vor die Rindsaugen fuehrt.

Aber trotzdem: wer hat erbarmen mit Franz Krahberger?

krahberger@ejournal.at
 
 
Very truly yours
http://www.facebook.com/mike.roloff1?ref=name
 
 http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html
 
 










(2)TENS DANN EINE ANALYSE DIESER ZERISSENEN WUT AUSBRUECHEN
(1)

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MICHAEL ROLOFF http://www.facebook.com/mike.roloff1?ref=name Member Seattle Psychoanalytic Institute and Society this LYNX will LEAP you to all my HANDKE project sites and BLOGS: http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html "MAY THE FOGGY DEW BEDIAMONDIZE YOUR HOOSPRINGS!" {J. Joyce} "Sryde Lyde Myde Vorworde Vorhorde Vorborde" [von Alvensleben] contact via my website http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.html