Octavian Paler

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Rhetorical wanderings alongside Octavian Paler

Well, it was just the beginning of a new week, another day loaded with ordinary problems, then the evening came and I laid to watch TV, somewhere around 7.30 pm, when something stroked me in an instant: Octavian Paler has passed away... And I said to myself: what a sorrowful day, this 7th of May... but why so? Is it maybe because my compass has now gone and I'll no longer be able to mark my own path into existence? I guess not...or I simply do not think so. Why the sadness then? Because of the anxiety of not being able to enjoy anymore all that I could see, lecture, breath, imagine or dream about so far? I wonder...does it all sound like childish egotism and infantile malice? Moreover, I wonder if I should deplore the liberation of a tiny fuzz (one that I've truly idolatrized) from the ordinary mud, for finding its way to transcend towards another dimension, one that could only be called eternity in the humans pompous language? Terribly odd, the paradox absorbs me again! I am sad and resigned, yet equally happy too! I couldn't say that I've been able to taste wisdom's perfume, but I am truly glad for the end of the suffering of a man that has opened me the way into finding the answers for many of the questions that haunted me! Who will show me the way from now on? Probably his writings read and reread...and reread over and over again... until I'll end my quests into existence...

Unable to discern, since early times I've followed the path towards normality: I've been christened, taught to respect society, to learn and do not play truant, to integrate in the apparent normality...including the need to be observant to the ten commandments. As the normal collective prescriptions represent abnormalities for the individual (especially during adolescence), the inner revolt alongside nonconformism have opened - surprisingly both for me and my parents - the way towards a totally different Decalogue, as the Master's ten commandments have transformed me from a rebel proud of my sedition into an obedient parishioner of his works! That's how I've come into understanding that I have to discharge for every single form of escape of mine...and no matter my pride, I've learned that lunacies play an essential role in the sculpturing, even the enchasing of the character...but solely if they are assumed...and it took me a sole step from this particular point to the acceptance, quite axiomatic, of the Decalogue within Life on a Perron... yet, I've considered myself A Fortunate Man, with a less Detestable Ego...and, without Imploring for my Wings to Grow, I continued living as a nostalgic Don Quijote of the East, despite the Solitary Adventures from my virtual capsule...and all these belong to the past, at most to the present... because the future seems a more and more unbearable axiom in order to guide survival...

I guess the sales of the Master's works will explode now, more and more admirers of His written thoughts shall come to light, maybe everything will turn into a Paler trend, generating a new brand: Paler! Sinister indeed! Sadly, it is an undeniable reality and no one can change it. The important thing is that more and more persons will be interested into entering the realm of this Romanian peasant from the Fagaras' foot, the one man that, throughout his writings, succeeded into presenting his life, naturally salted with ascents and peppered with alights. Moreover, the Aroma of Octavian Paler texts fades the colloquial, isolates you from good and bad, white and black, from everything that is mundane or mould. What is there within that realm? Well, malice stops me now from uncovering you the answer! These books must not devoid your bookshelves! The very charm of this genius' writings lies into cherishing each and single one page filled with his thoughts, and not within carefully archiving some documents on a wretched desktop folder! Remember that despite all modern technologies, Paler continued to use his anachronic typewriter. This idea of mine is not meant to turn into an axiom, yet I would much appreciate if the ones reading these lines, accurately understand my imperative tone. Moreover, I refuse to believe that there might be even a single person familiarized with the Palerian realm that has not reread these last days at least some fragments from the Master's opera!

Being a fine analyst of the daily problems and an exceptional editorialist, the Master became tormented by the new form of political populism embraced lately with illusory dignity and terrifying hypocrisy by this educated folk, one having Latin origins and that has just experienced fifty years of totalitarian polity! The Eternal Stalin Father, visiting in his overall the labour's factories and plants, walking on the fruitful fields of the Mother Land, bathing in the mass during the orgasmic reign over the meetings saturated in retarded patriotism full of extremist scents...yes, those were the threats the Master feared, as they became more than simple shades of our modern history... for the first time in his life, he was standing in the first line within a War of Words that he has not been forced to participate to... I was truly surprised to ascertain the acid vehemence of his editorials, of his utter stern views regarding the current political scene... all this along the constant lecture of his rhetorical texts, throughout which he upbraided himself for passing by a real war half a century ago, one war that meant nothing to him at the time, nothing: no fear, neither admiration, nor disgust... existing deep within his inner universe was more significant than some bomb exploding in a Bucharest devastated by the struggle between Germans and Russians...

What do we still cherish from Paler's realm? Is it all about history, or perhaps his rhetorical manner to approach existence? I have no idea. Yet, one thing is for sure: no matter my determination into saying that there is no vainness, day after day I can only experience more and more inability to fill the void I'm living in...even if I'm still deluded by the everyday happiness.

- on desert platform...hoping for deliverance...maybe even for self - conciliation ... waiting for a train obstinate to never arrive ...

- the legend of the cave... ephemeral shadows of the everyday life fail into taking shape even in a broken mirror... in fact, it is all but a play performed by depersonalized actors, ones that can only be spotted as a congeries of fine arranged shivers.

- solely guilty for being courageous into accepting that mistakes are part of life's course.

- the only wanderer left from his contemplative childhood.

- critical as we all remember him, disgusted by the everyday reality, Octavian Paler has dwelled his twilight within a virtual Lisa, scenting of Greek culture, the one he deeply loved and truly venerated...

- far too conscious to be idealistic and over sorrowful for his continuously haunting pragmatism, he become an unwilful practitioner ...

- born on an historical day for us (July 2) and passed away on a far too common and insignificant one for who HE was, is and will be endlessly... we could however spot that this years marks four centuries since the first form of quijotism ...

- a life has died out ... a star shined on instead...

- Desert is left to stay, For Ever!

R.I.P.

P.S. Despite the modern consumism, I urge the idea of creating a Paler site, as there isn't one at the moment...

May, 2007