Lipton’s Journal/February 7, 1955/460: Difference between revisions

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But why can I understand the crook in Bob?{{LJ:Lindner}} It is because at a deeper level of the unconscious I’m a bigger crook than he is. Why else did I turn down the Pepsi-Cola show which so intrigued Bob. It’s because the crook in me is at a lower level of the unconscious, more rarified, more honest on the surface. It shows in my reading and my ideas. I’m a synthesizer, just as a crook is. I cannot make the original discovery, but I can add the fabulous jewel to it at my best. So I dip into other books and other men’s styles, take the ideas I wish, throw away the others, understand one facet of a person to the exclusion of the rest because what I want is the jewel in the suitcase—fuck the rest, fuck the furs and the bonds. I’ll rip everything apart to come up with what I feel is the nugget. ''[[The Deer Park]]'' is an enormous lie. It was my crook’s way of finding the truth. And so in my own way I came up with the jewel.  
But why can I understand the crook in Bob?{{LJ:Lindner}} It is because at a deeper level of the unconscious I’m a bigger crook than he is. Why else did I turn down the Pepsi-Cola show which so intrigued Bob. It’s because the crook in me is at a lower level of the unconscious, more rarified, more honest on the surface. It shows in my reading and my ideas. I’m a synthesizer, just as a crook is. I cannot make the original discovery, but I can add the fabulous jewel to it at my best. So I dip into other books and other men’s styles, take the ideas I wish, throw away the others, understand one facet of a person to the exclusion of the rest because what I want is the jewel in the suitcase—fuck the rest, fuck the furs and the bonds. I’ll rip everything apart to come up with what I feel is the nugget. ''[[The Deer Park]]'' is an enormous lie. It was my crook’s way of finding the truth. And so in my own way I came up with the jewel.  


Analyzers are honest but cannot give. Synthesizers are crooks (hence their scholarly footnotes—at least in the more socialized ones) and so they can only take partially, and that from wealth acquired by someone else. So, with my ideas. I love to give them, I love to steal complacency from my friends, torture them into finer states of being, make them know because I am alive what they have messed, what they have renunciated, but as Bob said I cannot accept, neither their love nor their approval of my ideas. Let that happen and I am being taken—I have met a bigger crook.  
Analyzers are honest but cannot give. Synthesizers are crooks (hence their scholarly footnotes—at least in the more socialized ones) and so they can only take partially, and that from wealth acquired by someone else. So, with my ideas. I love to give them, I love to steal complacency from my friends, torture them into finer states of being, make them know because I am alive with what they have missed, what they have renunciated, but as Bob said I cannot accept, neither their love nor their approval of my ideas. Let that happen and I am being taken—I have met a bigger crook.  


So, I always love Adele{{LJ:Adele}} when she is in a rage at me because then I can steal a big thing from her, I can steal her rage—I was never so happy as when she poured the liquor on my head. But when she loves me absolutely then I become uneasy. No wonder. My creation is being improved. So she never gives me the absolute total acceptance. When my ideas really begin to fly and I tell them to her, she glows for a while, but then she deserts me, she goes to sleep, because deep in her she knows with her woman’s wisdom that to give her love absolutely to me at a given moment is to make me withdraw—how afraid I am that she is a bigger crook than me. No wonder I get annoyed when she loses money or buys something that is over-priced. She’s taken me, she’s taken my crook’s money which I stole ''Naked''-wise from the very heart of society.
So, I always love Adele{{LJ:Adele}} when she is in a rage at me because then I can steal a big thing from her, I can steal her rage—I was never so happy as when she poured the liquor on my head. But when she loves me absolutely then I become uneasy. No wonder. My creation is being improved. So she never gives me the absolute total acceptance. When my ideas really begin to fly and I tell them to her, she glows for a while, but then she deserts me, she goes to sleep, because deep in her she knows with her woman’s wisdom that to give her love absolutely to me at a given moment is to make me withdraw—how afraid I am that she is a bigger crook than me. No wonder I get annoyed when she loses money or buys something that is over-priced. She’s taken me, she’s taken my crook’s money which I stole ''Naked''-wise from the very heart of society.