Somehow, getting out of a deep hole of filth and shit in your mind****
Egon is so hurt, he is so bruised, he’s rolling around hysterically in a pile of thought-manure, shouting: Aaaaah! What the fuck happened? Fault! This is not how you’re supposed to play! AAAh!! What kind of game is this?
Suddenly, he gets up, his fierce eyes glaring, Egon strides straight over at Yous, in the back: Now you’ve really done it! It’s all your fault! I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure Yous is to blame! Why did you do this, why did you have to say that?! Why do you have to be like that? – he pauses – What’s that? You didn’t say anything, right? I thought so! Look at what you did! Look! Smell it! RUB YOUR FUCKING NOSE IN IT! You motherfucking idiot, you evil genius. You ruined this! You ruined all the work I’ve done….
Slowly he gets out of breath and his voice calms down. Giving up, he just turns sour and desperate. Yous is watching him from the side, head tilted forward, a cunning gaze and smirk rest on her face, she says in a calm voice: Look man, stop this, I understand, you couldn’t juggle it, you fell, you’re embarrassed. It’s no surprise, handling Us is a lot. But don’t worry, you are fine, strong, it’s just a bruise, tomorrow it will turn into tough skin. You know: it was a square, and we’re a triangle.
****makes everything seem more clear than before. La Vida – Clara – Graciosa
So deal with it. Let’s go! I AM the genius. Not evil, not saintly. Just a mix of all that is mortal and godly. We have the hint of IT that no one knows, but somehow breathes. I am. I. Am.
And there they are: Yous and Egon. The same Yous, but now a different Egon, arm in arm, hysterically laughing at all that they see around. It is ALL just RIDICULOUS. Not funny, not cute, not humorous. But hilariously painfully sweetly grotesque, goddamn scarily exhilarating – always on the edge of before and after, always on the edge of life and death. Sane and mad. All and nothing. In the air and hitting the ground, and just before hitting the ground waking up…and laughing at the Psyché-show, because it all tickles your brain! It squeezes your guts. It is IT.