At last I’m writing. Several writings.
There’s an Understurmführer and a Hauptscharführer (and I’ll end up writing “Unterscharführer” or “Hauptsturmführer”), 1944, somewhere in Germany, before the attempt on Hitler’s life, in collaboration with cauchemar_73. I asked her a Russian Jew who’s been converted into a pangermanist, but she didn’t understand my irony. We ended up writing a plot in which the Zar isn’t dead, my Understurmführer (Gestapo) is searching for him in order to replace Stalin and defeat Russia. There’s a camp and lot of soap. Different kind of irony.
In collaboration with Hyoga I’m going to write something about Vietnam, 196-. There is a tattooist, American, and a Vietcong. It’s not going to be a love story, but it will be enjoyable. Blood, powder and vaseline (tattoos, you know).
I also have written something more about Horton, who’s my favorite one: he doesn’t do anything but I always may write about his boring daily life pretending it’s interesting. As long as people believe he has something to convey, I’ll write of him.
There are Donato Torchia and Zacharie Richard Vidal de Noger, A.D. 1630, Venice and Paris.
Yeah, I started writing.
Yeah, I’ve gone back to the Thirty Years War again. I resumed the old files, opened them, and then cut and copied, cut and copied, cut and copied, giving that summary a sort of sense. Venice, France, England, the Empire, how-to-give-birth-to-puritan-America, and so on.
Vietnam War, WWII, Siege of Sarajevo, Thirty Years War… What else? I see cute young Vietcongs running along the Black Forest, Waldstein on the top of a hill giving orders against Serbian people while Peiper rides a Tiger in Magdeburg. (To ride a Panzer? I hope.) Venetian nobles who speak with Milosevic about the future of the House of Habsburg, general Wastemoreland argues with Richelieu (“Eat frogs, monsieur”), B52 over Berlin. I’m just a bit confused.
On Monday I’m walking in Boves, keeping Mr Zucconi company. We’ll stare at a hill, wondering how were that same hill about 70 years ago. I’ll leaf through books and sheets watching Peiper’s smile, Peiper who laughs, Peiper who asks information, Peiper who meets Hitler, Peiper at the swimming pool, Peiper on the East front, on the West front, Peiper during the trial, while Mr Pumpkin tells me that Peiper has been on the West front, on the East front, what he’s done, what he’s said, deserved, won, lost, wanted, searched, thought. And it won’t be boring.
I thought I had to study history as a continuum. I knew something about Varangians, something about the XIII century, something about Reformation and Counter-reformation. I said to myself those were just the notions I would have needed when I finally were to study contemporary history. I thought of them as pieces I should have laid into a wardrobe. I was wrong.
I thought of history as a matter of time. Something that slips along eras. But human actions seem to be always the same few ones, and history becomes a sheet, 2D. The difference I’m searching is not between today and yesterday, but amongst the several kinds of future every “today” may fancy.
I wonder how people feel history. How they feel time, as I can’t help struggling because of this lack of time.
(Among or amongst?
Some people make a distinction between these, using amongst with verbs that imply movement: we stood among the trees but: we walked amongst the trees; the money was shared out amongst the members.
Among —> Dativ
Amongst —> Akkusativ
More or less.
Just a memo. Too many books but little memory.
Books I’ve read:
“Night of the Long Knives”
“History of the Vietnam War”
“Stella del mattino” by Wu Ming 4
Books I’m reading:
“The Man without qualities” (it’ll never come to an end)
“German History” by Poidevin (uni)
“The Outlaws” by Ernst von Salomon
Books I’ve ordered:
“Hope and Glory” (uni)
“International Law” (uni)
Books I’d like to order:
“Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison”
… And something about Peiper.