How Hate Hippies Make World Go "O"

There is something in using mutually exclusive notions that I absolutely adore. The pairs of words, the tricky combinations like that are slippery and soft at the same time. They are a contradiction in terms squeezed into the smallest possible linguistic unit, the most concentrated paradox. And paradoxes -- I do love them, humble bugs! They are fragile indeed, and in a way they also are slightly impossible. Like beauty. Impossible at least according to the square logics of everyday.  But shouldn't we sometimes try the limits of impossible? At least in art. Or writing. Or criticism. Unless you do it there is a serious lack of salt and pepper in your discourse. You get nowhere near "it". Near certain truths and probabilities... And you can move no mountain, I bet. 

The notions like that -- and I found a personification of one of those on Friday at the Christmas Ball of the Artists Association -- are specially sympathetic, cause they don't carry too much weight. You couldn't seriously draw an argument based on them. Or bake an Oedipal pie from them. Never-ever! One half of the pair is constantly undermining the other and you are fluctuating between the two. Confused Nazy is no Nazy, and a Policeman lost inside himself is not even a Policewoman! It is sometimes hard to get a clue what you are being told to do. "Nje rõba, nje mjaasa", as the Russians always say. Thus there will never be a serious, calculated, well wrought out argument using these paradoxical tools. Like the one the Powers are using  to make you do things (Foucault) or to make things happen (Auden). The one and only Sublime (Lyotard) which makes you to join someone's crusade. But to the hell with one!

If a pair of mutually exclusive notions really hits the vein, it shakes you hard. And it has to be a real life experience, fresh wind, so to speak, as we pampered humans haven't found a single notion yet. To cover it up (Winnicott) , or to pin it down  with one sharply penetrating word. 

A combination like that undermines the credibility of both parties involved. And in the end of the day you have Nil, a landscape of corroded letters and corrupted promises. "Hate" and "hippies" -- they don't mean anything important for me, mostly. But it is different with "hate hippies"! 

I guess it is getting tiresome and I have to tell you a story. I better do, if I don't want to lose you, dear reader. The notion of a "hate hippie" would have never occurred to me if there had not been a slightly embarrassing social situation at the Artist's Union Christmas Ball, on Saturday. I was sipping my soda water when I got hit by an artist, Jaak Visnap. OK, I am exaggerating. I got hit by the sheer power of his sermons. He looked straight into my eyes somewhat militantly preaching honesty (which seemed to be sth. loud for him) , some kind of liberation, drunk straightforwardness and uncompromised future. The future of the mysterious young ones. His own future as opposed to the one of the old farts, the ones who are the masters of the scene, the clique of the Artists Union. And he kept lecturing on and on how it is the fault of Art Historians, their need to label and pin and so humbly serve money from the auction houses that leaves no chance for a contemporary artist like him. In that he actually might even have hit the point, somehow. But fuck, I don't miss the son of a preacher-man! Even now I have an urge to drop this little piece here and go for a cigarette as I think of it. 

And it was then, while smoking downstairs at the Kuku, it strike me that Jaak Visnap is a hate hippie! Not the only one in Estonia, for sure! Not particularly original in this sense too. Most of the people infected by nonconformism of Non Grata School are. Not all of them,  like Sobu or Sorge, but some indeed. Definitely! You can recognize one if you see one. It is in their eyes as a cold flame and in their voices as demanding tremolo. Even some of the people around Erkki Kasemets, real quiet, peaceful people, may be "hate hippies". I definitely was a one at some point in my life. We both were with Anders as we wrote as troubleproductions. May be we still are, who knows?

But what do I have in mind by coining this phrase? What does it stand for me -- the term "hate hippies"? Why bother to exercise a fresh constellation of words seemingly negating each other? But the idea itself is not so fresh, actually. I am trying to talk of the new personification of a man of ressentiment ( as it was described by Nietzsche). I am painting a portrait of someone constantly preaching that the other is evil, shouting --  he is a Faschist! he is a Communist, he is a Capitalist! Constantly pointing his finger to a fellow citizen just to declare a moral victory, "if I were you... " He is proud of not being something the other is, thus being good, semi-automatically...   

And what else could it stand for -- "hate hippies"? There is at least a few answers for that in "Anti-Oidipus", if you dare to use it "as a manual of non-faschist living" (Foucauld). An answer by Deleuze and Guattari I would prefer to postpone tonight...