Jusgotupianism for Beginners
"I don't know how you let your daughter speak to you like that."
"Oh, it'll pass, I'm sure. She's just going through the Dark Ages."
"You mean she spends her days illuminating manuscripts in a cell on a rocky promontory beneath a dramatic gloaming?"
"Not exactly. I mean there is a hobnailed boot whose arc of movement is determined by an axle held by a projecting framework attached to her head. Every day, when she wakes up, she is herself for a few seconds, which may be blissful seconds or they may not, but after those moments of unalloyed but sleepy selfhood have ticked by, the boot suddenly comes to life, swings round and kicks her in the forehead."
"Indeed. How does she experience this subjectively?"
"As an act of awakening, of mental preparation to face the day. Unfortunately, she is not only remembering her agenda - what to do - but, also, who to be and for whom. Thus is she daily ejected, with hideous ruin and combustion, from the matutinal Eden of Jusgotupia. More almond cake?"
"Thank you, Candida. I am, incidentally, relieved that you did not just now address me as 'dear heart'."
"I toyed with the idea, then thought better of it. It occurred to me that a woman, of whatever age, is unlikely in the twenty-first century, or in any other, to address another woman as 'dear heart'."
"I agree entirely. It would have made this conversation sound very inauthentic."
"Absolutely."
"So your daughter daily assumes an identity which, rather than being an organic and actualized outcome of negotiation between her developing inner self and the restricting demands of society, is instead a dead carapace, like the shell of a hermit crab, a stereotypical cartoon identity, a soggy capitulation to the ravenous hunger of the furiously moralistic Inner Crowd?"
"Something like that. Though you could perhaps have put it a little better."
"Alas, Dear Thing, I have lately too much haemoglobin coursing through my veins to put things a little better. I am right, though, in thinking you are a member of the Church of Jusgotupia? By the way, this almond cake is intensely delicious. Where did you get it?"
"In answer to your first inquiry, I am indeed, as you say, a follower of the Church of Jusgotupia. You arrived at this conclusion, no doubt, by observing the slogan "Make Coffee, Not War" inscribed in curly purple letters on the T-shirt now stretched tautly across my voluptuous breasts. As for your second question: I got it from almonds."
"Ah. That would account for the distinctive taste of almonds which I noted from the moment I sank my teeth into this almond cake of yours. Though I am given to understand that cyanide has a similar savour."
"I found I was out of cyanide this morning, so I used vanilla essence instead. I hope you'll forgive me, Candida."
" I may, Yersinia, sweet thing. But to return to the subject of your religious affiliation, I would be greatly interested in knowing more about Jusgotupianism. I have been looking for a new religion to adhere to for some time now. I am bored with being a Russian Orthodontist."
"Well, it's simple enough. The Jusgotupian believes that people are, to a large extent, impeded from attaining their full potential as individuals by a series of cognitive distortions which have the effect of sapping their confidence, creativity and curiosity about the world, introducing fear and distrust into what might otherwise be fruitful relationships, and marrying people to childish and irresponsible social attitudes. These distortions include the installation, in the psyche, of a sort of inner representation of the observing and judging Other, a protean archetype which insofar as it is accessible to consciousness, wears the face of Society, or of some subset of Society, or of some individual regarded as peculiarly authoritative, but which turns out, on examination, to be the consequence and continuation of some unresolved parental attachment from earliest childhood. The sometimes baleful, sometimes benevolent gaze of this imaginary entity places arbitrary limits upon the direction and scope of personality development. What is projected as a personality is, alas, a dead, crusty thing. It is not quickened by the creative spark. It is the horses of Instruction absent the Tyger of Wrath."
"And this, dearest rose petal, is what you believe to be happening to your daughter Pneumococca?"
"In a nutshell, yes."
"And how, in the Jusgotupian creed, is this attrition of creative personhood to be overcome?"
"Well, we believe that in the few moments after you have woken up, or Just Got Up as we prefer to express it, your mind is blissfully free of the artificial preoccupations, moralistic concerns and fears and taboos of your normal waking personality. However, when the start-up code for the latter is executed, it encounters no resistance, and thus effortlessly installs itself, overriding and negating what was already there. We therefore embrace a discipline which requires us to attempt to prolong the initial state of bleary Jusgotupia into our entire waking existence, as far as is practically possible. Our ideal is to spend our entire waking lives feeling as if we have Just Got Up. This is why we often insist on having permanently messy hair."
"Your permanently messy hair is a credit to you, Candida. It forms a pleasing counterpoint to the voluptuousness of your tightly shirted, slogan-surmounted breasts."
"Oh, it'll pass, I'm sure. She's just going through the Dark Ages."
"You mean she spends her days illuminating manuscripts in a cell on a rocky promontory beneath a dramatic gloaming?"
"Not exactly. I mean there is a hobnailed boot whose arc of movement is determined by an axle held by a projecting framework attached to her head. Every day, when she wakes up, she is herself for a few seconds, which may be blissful seconds or they may not, but after those moments of unalloyed but sleepy selfhood have ticked by, the boot suddenly comes to life, swings round and kicks her in the forehead."
"Indeed. How does she experience this subjectively?"
"As an act of awakening, of mental preparation to face the day. Unfortunately, she is not only remembering her agenda - what to do - but, also, who to be and for whom. Thus is she daily ejected, with hideous ruin and combustion, from the matutinal Eden of Jusgotupia. More almond cake?"
"Thank you, Candida. I am, incidentally, relieved that you did not just now address me as 'dear heart'."
"I toyed with the idea, then thought better of it. It occurred to me that a woman, of whatever age, is unlikely in the twenty-first century, or in any other, to address another woman as 'dear heart'."
"I agree entirely. It would have made this conversation sound very inauthentic."
"Absolutely."
"So your daughter daily assumes an identity which, rather than being an organic and actualized outcome of negotiation between her developing inner self and the restricting demands of society, is instead a dead carapace, like the shell of a hermit crab, a stereotypical cartoon identity, a soggy capitulation to the ravenous hunger of the furiously moralistic Inner Crowd?"
"Something like that. Though you could perhaps have put it a little better."
"Alas, Dear Thing, I have lately too much haemoglobin coursing through my veins to put things a little better. I am right, though, in thinking you are a member of the Church of Jusgotupia? By the way, this almond cake is intensely delicious. Where did you get it?"
"In answer to your first inquiry, I am indeed, as you say, a follower of the Church of Jusgotupia. You arrived at this conclusion, no doubt, by observing the slogan "Make Coffee, Not War" inscribed in curly purple letters on the T-shirt now stretched tautly across my voluptuous breasts. As for your second question: I got it from almonds."
"Ah. That would account for the distinctive taste of almonds which I noted from the moment I sank my teeth into this almond cake of yours. Though I am given to understand that cyanide has a similar savour."
"I found I was out of cyanide this morning, so I used vanilla essence instead. I hope you'll forgive me, Candida."
" I may, Yersinia, sweet thing. But to return to the subject of your religious affiliation, I would be greatly interested in knowing more about Jusgotupianism. I have been looking for a new religion to adhere to for some time now. I am bored with being a Russian Orthodontist."
"Well, it's simple enough. The Jusgotupian believes that people are, to a large extent, impeded from attaining their full potential as individuals by a series of cognitive distortions which have the effect of sapping their confidence, creativity and curiosity about the world, introducing fear and distrust into what might otherwise be fruitful relationships, and marrying people to childish and irresponsible social attitudes. These distortions include the installation, in the psyche, of a sort of inner representation of the observing and judging Other, a protean archetype which insofar as it is accessible to consciousness, wears the face of Society, or of some subset of Society, or of some individual regarded as peculiarly authoritative, but which turns out, on examination, to be the consequence and continuation of some unresolved parental attachment from earliest childhood. The sometimes baleful, sometimes benevolent gaze of this imaginary entity places arbitrary limits upon the direction and scope of personality development. What is projected as a personality is, alas, a dead, crusty thing. It is not quickened by the creative spark. It is the horses of Instruction absent the Tyger of Wrath."
"And this, dearest rose petal, is what you believe to be happening to your daughter Pneumococca?"
"In a nutshell, yes."
"And how, in the Jusgotupian creed, is this attrition of creative personhood to be overcome?"
"Well, we believe that in the few moments after you have woken up, or Just Got Up as we prefer to express it, your mind is blissfully free of the artificial preoccupations, moralistic concerns and fears and taboos of your normal waking personality. However, when the start-up code for the latter is executed, it encounters no resistance, and thus effortlessly installs itself, overriding and negating what was already there. We therefore embrace a discipline which requires us to attempt to prolong the initial state of bleary Jusgotupia into our entire waking existence, as far as is practically possible. Our ideal is to spend our entire waking lives feeling as if we have Just Got Up. This is why we often insist on having permanently messy hair."
"Your permanently messy hair is a credit to you, Candida. It forms a pleasing counterpoint to the voluptuousness of your tightly shirted, slogan-surmounted breasts."
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