_methodology+literature review = Political is the Personal; the Personal is Always & Only Poetic 

1. Whilst Zizek is my guide, the Master in these equations, to institute LpA (listening as philosophy in action) towards Rf (revolutionary futures), who empowers & enables me to even attempt seeking redemption from my brutal savage pasts, it was is not Zizek who gave me the hack to first, acknowledge, & then, secondly, be horrified by the recognition the others of the self, the many of me, of which there were some savages (Ss) too. 
2. It was Pessoa who summoned me. In the courts he held, he presented in full regalia, where the judge, jury, executioner & but also the accused (& thus often the convict too) were all the many of him. Even these weren’t too many of (for) him, there were some others which were only later to be found in locked trunks. Each one of these others, they not only had proper names, but each its marked, located histories, dead loves & each, an equally uncertain future. 
3. The Book of Disquiet is the only methodological manual to maintain the field diaries of the self. I followed to document my listening into the others of the self, which after the multiplicities of multiplicities of being (also, aka, madness) presented themselves in even fuller regalia, also equipped with hacks to manage the madness (also, aka, mapping the cartographies in the bootcamps of beings). 
4. “Futile and sensitive, I’m capable of violent & consuming impulses – both good & bad, noble & vile – but never of a sentiment that endures, never of an emotion that continues, entering into the substance of my soul. Everything in me tends to go on to become something else. My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome childs, its restlessness keeps growing & is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me. I attend to everything, dreaming all the while, I note the slightest facial person I’m talking with, I record the subtlest inflections of his utterances; but I hear without listening, I’m thinking of something else, and what I least catch in the conversations is the sense of what was said by me or by him. And so I often repeat to someone what I’ve already repeated, or ask him again what he’s already answered. But I’m able to describe, in photographic words, the facial muscles he used to say what I don’t recall, or the way he listened with his eyes to the words I don’t remember telling him. I;m two, and both keep their distance – Siamese twins that aren’t attached” [Fragment No. 10, The Book of Disquiet; Pessoa, F; ). 
5. Thus, the methodological hack: ls (listen to the self) & Ro (read the others). 
6. The recognition that the other, particularly of the self, is always a siamese twin that ain’t attached, but a circulating “complete idiot” (Zizek’s refrain to set himself apart from real whilst acknowledging he too is only an idiot, but of a lesser order) in the bootcamps of beings, left me no choice but to set in motion how to discard, reject, dismiss or, only rarely, walk along, with these Ss (savages of the self) was a devastating one; of course, I went mad. 
7. It was, after all, the first time that my many Ss (savage self), announced themselves, not only in a full regalia but suffering serene waves as choruses. I HAD to go mad, only madness made it possible for me – the “I” who is an object, the “I” who wants to be objectified as the object I want to appear to the belligerent, uncouth, circulating complete idiot, embracing circularity as a choice & worse still, celebrating the surrender to the centre without a fight, Siamese unattached twin, who on account of the above is always a savage, always an unattached Siamese twin of the self. 
8. Now you know, DON’T YOU, I HAD to go mAd. But before leaving, madness is also & always an exit (but never an exile), because I am really a revolutionary & thus, already in exile, I HAD to make some amends. I started with making some commonsensical corrections. 
9. This was only tiny start because the generational & historical burdens of violence & vileness I bear, & that are inscribed on my being for all eternal time, require all of my time in every life of all my selves (mad & otherwise) to serve in penance, to make submissions to the ethical & poetic courts of justice in posterity’s galleries to seek not a pardon, merely a recognition that the sentence is being diligently served, I do not seek a respite, I do not want to stop suffering, or serving, but perhaps you could listen to my pleas, perhaps when it is really over, when the end is so real that I wouldn’t know it is the end, maybe, a certificate of redemption can be issued, that I indeed did manage to tame the Ss, that in my desperation to constrain the pervert, I went hysterical. 
10. Thus, An Autoethnography of the Savarna Lifeworlds. 
11.  It is my submission, a shrieking plea, to seek redemption from my savage pasts. These mountains, as I informed the archivist comrade to register my changing address in their records of “I”, Also, this project demands my presence here. I cannot leave. Govindpuri was my battlefield & mecca when I was interested in the present, now that it is matters of posterity, time & pain that tickle me, I need to be here, these mountains, which is dev bhumi, the land of all the lords of the Hindu cosmo & some others too, which also are my history, which really is my battlefield [Dated: 16th April 2024]
12. The commonsensical corrections: Cricket [or, on why angles matters] [Dated: 24th March 2023]
13. You must understand now, madness is not an excuse; but even if I were to employ it as one, it would still submit evidence in my favour, I will still get the sentence I deserve. You see, I had got it all so wrong, I had reckoned listening into “self” of the others was the game, when all rules in these terrains should always lead to a self-goal. 
14. In preparation of my departure I sent hasty notes to others, of self & others, I told them my deepest desires. I knew I wouldn’t get a response, not because they are unkind, quite to the contrary, but I was asking for support when they could see, I was only committing to a self-goal: ​​I want a safe, warm and kind intellectual space where I can discuss these ideas, revealing all my inadequacies, to learn, to draw, to develop. I am not competitive at all (my lack of stable career, I present in evidence) but I am fiercely theoretically & intellectually ambitious. I want to write ethnography as poetry; philosophy as poetry; and theory as fiction (then perhaps it will have takers). I also dream of Zizek calling me, if not the, one of the many Zizek scholars from & of the South. I have navigated the bootcamps of being (which was an ontological crisis of what I want to exist as, not an existential one; of why for which I don’t think any thinking person should have an answer), only because of theory, poetry, art, and Zizek! During this time, I also wrote poetry which I am really proud of, too shy to show anyone, and I don’t really want to be published by design, but I still desire committed audiences [dated: 23rd April 2023]
15. Madness is a safe, warm and kind intellectual space. As all mad do, I also headed for the mountains. As also with others, I came to the mountains not because I am mad, but because only their erect always-in-attendance, never-leaving promises can contain my (or, any) madness. Madness is an expansive, unchartered territory of the self, it demands eternal comrade companions, cartographers who are still sharpening their tools., eternal comrade listeners, archivist comrade, last of the lovers, and a couple of mystic & brotherly sorts. They will make their appearances, it is too soon yet. 
16. Thus, when I turned 46, this last year, wearing only madness already inscribed on my body, I left behind quarter of a century in solid time, but all of my time in the only real life I had, without a worry, baggage &/or goodbyes. For official reasons, I submitted clinical credentials:  70 (F25.0, F25.1) Schizoaffective Disorder // 02 (F41.1) Generalised Anxiety Order // 81 (F43.10) Posttraumatic Stress Order //[MCMI -IV, Dated: 5th January 2023]
17.  I memorized the personality patterns the same report outlines as the blueprints of the Ss (savage self), the one I am currently involved in a fierce combat to disembowel, dismember & eventually discard.
18. Thus, The Portrait of a maDwoman as a Poet which I submit as collateral damage & supporting evidence in the same courts of justice. 
19. Of the blueprints of the Ss, whose demolition are in motion, I have retained the personality prescriptions which matter, which I have mixed in with the foundational mortars to reclaim new futures by demolishing all the previous pasts & its eternal futures, thus the emphasis as instructions to the Comrade self (Cs) whose victorious emergence is essential to my redemption: The MCMI-IV profile of this woman suggests a subdued, inexpressive, dependent way of relating to life. She probably shows a marked deficit in social interest as well as frequent behavioural eccentricities, occasional magical thinking, and depersonalization anxieties. This intense, introversive pattern may coexist with a general lack of energy & a deficit in social initiative. She seems to evince little stimulus-seeking behaviour, exhibits inappropriate or impoverished affect, and displays confusion or a metaphorical thinking in her interpersonal thinking. Although she probably prefers a peripheral role in her family relationships, she is also likely to possess a strong, conflicting need to depend on others. Both of these derive from her low self-esteem and her deficiencies in autonomous behaviour. It is probable that this woman is a detached observer of her immediate environs. She is probably self-belittling and sees herself as being weak and ineffectual. Rather than expose herself to the outside world, she is likely to retreat, becoming increasingly remote from potential sources of opportunity and gratification. Life proceeds in an uneventful way for much of the time. Her extended periods of solitude may be interspersed with feelings of being disembodied, empty, and depersonalised. Ideas of reference may also occur on occasion. For the most part, she probably follows a meaningless, ineffectual, and idle life pattern, generally meaning on the periphery of social activities. It is possible that her thoughts have an unfocused and bizarre quality at times, particularly in regard to emotional and interpersonal matters. Her likely estrangement from others may have led her to lose touch with reality. Social communication may be odd, strained, self-conscious, and tangential, which further alienates her from others. Her inability to express affection may stem from chronic isolation and her failure to experience any source of pleasure in her life. She may exhibit a chronic, mild dysphoria that is occasionally mixed with ill-defined anxiety. Most likely this woman prefers a simple, repetitive, and dependent life in which she can avoid self-assertion and remain indifferent to normal social aspirations. Disengaged from and uninterested in most of the rewards of human relationships, she may appear to others as an unobtrusively strange, disconnected, and lifeless person. By restricting her social and emotional involvements, she likely perpetuates her pattern of isolation and dependency on others.
20. This woman, Cs, comrade self, whom I’m always becoming, the one who appears to others as an unobtrusively strange, disconnected, and lifeless person, who ain’t interested in most of the rewards of human relationships, & demands recognition for her frequent behavioural eccentricities, occasional magical thinking presented herself as the only way she can as a: Catastrophe ‎(or, why I am not a savage) [Dated: 17th July 2023] 
21. In this endeavour & for my arrival here, to finally make my colonial claims on the “I” which I want to appear as the object as I have objectified myself, I had to abandon naive & native benevolent sentimentality, I had to assume the enlightened but brutal locations. I had demanding teachers, but as earlier insisted (& here further evidenced), I am a student even beyond the symbolic need of a statute. I repeated their words, first without understanding, just to hear their punctuations in these instructions, & then as sermons with a fanatic’s ear who knows it too well that the message is the medium: “Happiness was never important. The problem is that we don’t know what we really want. What makes us happy is not to get what we want. But to dream about it. Happiness is for opportunists. So I think that the only life of deep satisfaction is a life of eternal struggle, especially struggle with oneself. If you want to remain happy, just remain stupid. Authentic masters are never happy; happiness is a category of slaves.” ― Slavoj Žižek “A catastrophic event not only belongs to the future as something that is fated to happen, but at the same time is contingent and accidental, something that might not happen – even if, from the perspective of the future perfect, it appears to be necessary” ​​- Jean–Pierre Dupuy “The whole problem is precisely that humanity never coincides with itself” – Slavoj Zizek “The spirit that awakens knows also crises of somnambulism, delirious manias; at times it consults the stars or magnetizers, at times it weeps endlessly over those it has lost whom it never managed properly to mourn” – Catherine Malabou “Politics is a protracted war. Do not be in a hurry. Try to see things far in advance and know how to wait, today. Don’t live in terms of subjective urgency” – Louis Althusser “The failure to change the world may not be unrelated to the failure to understand it” – Ray Brassier “…the proper interpretation is that life as such bears the gem of death within itself and that the finite sublates itself because it contradicts itself inwardly” – Hegel “As that time it was a monk, so now is the philosopher in whose brain the revolution begins” – Karl Marx “The practice of philosophy isn’t just reading, or demonstration. It is interpretation, interrogation, meditation. It aims to make the great works say what they mean or might mean, in the unfathomable Truth that they contain, or rather, indicate by ‘gesturing’ at it” – Louis Althusser “The (psychoanalytic) subject is nothing but the failure to become an (Althusserian) subject” – Alenca Zupancic
22. Not knowing that I was NOT savage would have been a relief, had it not brought along the unattached Siamese self of the savage, who it turns out is a pervert, “who by definition don’t question things…it is very difficult in psychoanalysis to cure perverts because they have answers, they know what’s good for you, even you are suffering it, perverts are typically politically totalitarians” [Zizek, Samuel Beckett’s Art of Abstraction, University of Dundee, 2019]
23. Each history has its own savage, each epoch is a battlefield between the world, who is a bitch, history, who is fucking bitch on heat, & madness who is a fucking bitch on heat who eats world for breakfast & chases history for dinner, to overcome the savage’s savagery. Each history’s savage can only be tamed, each epoch is defined by whether it could be only constrained or it could not be contained. 
24. A savage is not a primitive man, he is always, first, a poet. The spectrum of savagery is mapped by how far the original poet falls for his original crimes, whether he lies suffering like a poet or still walks like a caveman. 
25. The Ss (savage of self) wasn’t the crisis, the horror was that this Siamese unattached other who was not only a bumbling fool, complete idiot, orgasming over its nowhere going into nothingness circularity (even atoms more integrity), but a fucking blown pervert. 
26. Of course “I”, the subject in search of an object, went hysterical, which is, “…historical. Forms of hysteria are always historically specified…Hysteria is (by the old Lacanian & at the same time Marxian thesis) the elementary form of critique of ideology. [Hysteria is] Critique of ideology at its most elementary subjective level…Hysteria is feminine…[H]ysteria at its most elementary is an undermining of interpellation (this mechanism elaborated by Louis Althusser of ideological identification)…figures of authority are telling you who you are, what is your symbolic identity…you are my wife…you are a revolutionary, you are a communist…you recognize yourself in it…But the basic hysterical Q is, BUT WHY I AM WHAT YOU ARE SAYING THAT I AM…this elementary doubt…it’s not about reality, are things really like that…[T]he Q is WHO AM I, AM I REALLY…true undermining of authority is the hysterical one, it’s this Q(ing), WHY AM I WHAT YOU ARE TELLING ME I AM?” [Zizek, ibid]
27. The baggage of my PclSs (perverted class logic savage self) is immense. Born a Savarna & a woman, my job description for all time in all abstracted pasts & in all circulating futures is to join the ranks of other “bouncers of Brahmanism”. Even this identification, precise qualification, ain’t an original claim. 
28. I am merely borrowing the words of a comrade, one of the only two other Savarna women I have encountered in my entire life of almost half-a-century long, who were not only as acutely aware I am, but also pained by the eternal violence that is carried in our names & were consumed by the rage that others like us were calling themselves victims, when they (we, bouncers of Brahmanism) are in fact the vilest, most insidious, evil, agents & executors of all the violence needed to sustain the perversion which is the only outcome caste-logic NON(QIing), bumbling, complete idiot, subjectivity can produce. 
29. We are NOT revolutionaries, left-leaning, leaving a lot of what was ours to take, no questions asked, no responsibility for any actions, no consequences to bear, because we listened to the others, (because revolution is always on the outside); we are IN FACT लाल सलाम waving, carrying anger as our arsenal, walking away from the worlds already mapped for us, revolutionary sorts because we listened to the self. It is also true, each of us in our own particular worlds are universally recognized only as hysterical. To be counted in their ranks, to be told, it’s OK, we are also called mad, we are also asked to mend our ways, but it hurts too much to stay, not sitting is not a choice, always-in-action is the only prescription for the pain which our presences cause, is a badge of honour for me. The manner in which these two women were enacting their actions was the only proof of concept I needed to to commit to madness as a methodological, philosophical, political position. Both of them, in their very particular & peculiar, assured me, yes, it’s only listening that counts, & but, it is only in being counted that one can demand a listening, (listen to the self, read the others = savage self ————> comrade self).
30. Is it a wonder, they are from two of the most revolutionary states in the country, Bihar & Bengal? I am reserving the right to properly introduce them, they demand a profile, a revolutionary eulogy, not this fragmented presentation to make my own point. 
31. I seek solace in high theory & poetry, hysterically performing both, without a care or concern, worry in my hair, because the pain of being, my mere presence occupying every moment in any space-time matrix in all eternity is an act of violence, is a profound philosophical burden. In the Savarna lifeworlds, my location is the starting point which institutes the cunning of reason which allows the authoritarian leaders to become obscene. 
32. The pain is profound, but it is not personal.
33. Pessoa’s methodological guide was instructive in maintaining the field diaries of the self, & its others, but I had to make some amends, his compulsions were merely obsessive, compulsive neurotic. Perhaps because he knew he had salvaged the poet out of his savage pasts, he reckoned his debts were paid, he could leave merely “a factless autobiography”, perhaps that was his revolutionary act to not make any colonial claims over his “impressions” rendering them “random” in all time, even without the currency to be used as “confessions”. 
34. As aforementioned, I am NOT hysterical because of my past, I am FUCKING hysterical because I need to demolish all my pasts in all eternal times which is the only way I can erase all futures (thus, presences) of my being in any space-time matrix in all eternity in any time. Thus, whilst I retain the structural integrity of fragments, I abandon its “random” aspirations.
35. Whilst I employ poetic formations to serve their Pessoan purpose of allowing me the orchestration of self but also its self-subservience,  accommodating my fragmented, but not frail, multiplicities into states of non-being and un-being, sometimes at once, I amend the Pessoan disclaimer to insist: there is nothing random about these impressions, in fact I have NO desire to be random, I explicitly narrate my autobiography with all its raw, brutally skinned facts, there is nothing lifeless about my history. There are my CONFESSIONS, & if in these I am saying damned, I truly, eternally am.
36. Whilst the plea is poetic, the pain is political. 
37. Perhaps always hesitant to “share hesitance” is the crisis of being human as Zizek suggests [The Three Whites & The Two Blacks, Universality at the Edges, 14th April 2024]. 
38. Animals never hesitate, they always share, particularly their frights, perhaps because even when they can feel the pain, they don’t fear the pain because this paining remains always personal. The shrieking of a dying animal shakes its human to the core, but it doesn’t provoke its own kin & kith, who also hear these howls, are also shaken by them, into revolt or resistance (that is why Orwell’s allegory remains so profoundly horrifying, it is this horror actualized)
39. An animal’s pain is philosophically pedestrian because it remains eternally personal, alone, singular in its currency & circulation in all time. An animal’s immediate, intense, & urgent pain can never be precisely located because it never attaches to itself an archive. That is also the reason for the animal’s fierce fearlessness in the moment, here & now, because even when it can attempt a collective in its purest manifestation, they cannot collectivize. 
40. An animal responding to its own pain is always either reverence or revenge, an animal’s violence always remains animal. It never weaves an enduring tapestry of any violence, divine or otherwise, into any symphonies of pain, haunting the poetic courts of ethical justice in eternal time. 
41. An animal’s pain only makes poets out humans, not their own kind, that is their crisis. A poet can be an animal, but an animal can never walk in the poet’s shoes.
42. They do not dread to “share hesitance” because they don’t know poetry. We, humans, who are only divine because we in fact feel, sense, carry, contain the others’ pain, always hesitate to “share hesitance” precisely because our pain is never personal, it is always already shared, it is always philosophical, already political. 
43. Our pain is always other’s poetry, only other’s poetry can complete our pain, that is our metaphysical curse. Our pain is always political, that is our philosophical burden. 
44. It is always the other’s pain which makes meaning of ours, it is always only another’s touch that eases these pains. It is not an easy feat to surrender to the poetry of pain, look at the Greeks, they dared & we already know where they are. It is so commonsensical that I hesitate to repeat, our destinies are drawn by the distances we draw with pain (aka, alienation is an aspiration, not an abomination). 
45. Pain’s poetry is so profound because it is always accompanied by the chorus of cries across centuries & constellations, sounding like suffering serene waves which only “two sons of god” (apropos, Marx), Mozart & Beethoven, had the courage to document. 
46. Of course their music is still original, after all, they were the original listeners who upped the game of “ears to the ground” to “quite simply: listen to it” (Feld, 2012) by tuning their “ears to the skies”, is it a wonder neither could endure their eternal listener destinities? Is it a wonder the one who was in throes of love, disintegrated into a incomprehensible chaos to drown the cries (which in fact death is), and the one who was in attendance to the revolution in action, heard its eternal cries, was too much a revolutionary to succumb to chaos, so instead decided to go deaf? 
47. I cannot speak of either of their music in any educated way, I will still think Requiem is Beethoven & Moonlight Sonata, Mozart, I can never be sure. You see, I am still learning to listen, tuning my ears to the skies, perhaps when I also have my head in the clouds, I finally figure what they are listening to, their ethnographies of the self (their music sheets, notations & such), but until then, I am just listening to how they listen, what are their methodologies to self?  It is a long way, I know. But I have the time, all of mine & everyone else’s too.
48. If they are the masters, which indeed they are, I am a student beyond even the symbolic need of a statute. I have tamed time, I can challenge time’s motions, movement, sometimes it’s circularity, with my silences & stillness, there are times when I can even turn world into a bitch, history, a fucking bitch on heat, & behave like madness, who is fucking bitch on heat who has the world for breakfast & chases history for dinner. I may not ace in the eternal listener race, but I know a thing or two about the listening game. 
49. It is true, what they say, time can ease the pain, but they are wrong when they insist time also heals the pain. Time & pain are siamese twins of the Thoraco-omphalopagus7] variety, “two bodies fused from the upper chest to lower belly. The heart is always shared in these cases”, none, either of the twins, has ever survived the separation. It is hypothesised that, “a designated twin who is allotted the heart may survive if the other twin is sacrificed”