RETOOLING EPICTETUS

 "MAGNIFICENCE INVOLVES EXPENDITURES WHICH WE CALL HONORABLE"

Currado Malaspina

This Artistotelian formulation finds its way into the daily conversation of my pretentious colleague, Currado Malaspina, at the most absurd and inappropriate times. He carries a worn copy of the Nicomachean Ethics in his coat pocket and quotes from it freely. In the aftermath of a minor traffic accident at the traitorous intersection of Rue Juliette Dodu and Avenue Claude Vellefaux, Currado observed to the irate owner of a newly dented Citroën Saxo that "... the morally weak who lose themselves in impetuous emotion are better than those who have a rational principle but do not abide by it." When his car insurance was subsequently canceled he bemoaned how "small people may have charm ... but not beauty."

Currado embodies Paul Valéry's description of the poetic temperament, "the sensation of being everything and the certitude of being nothing." He is both pompous and pure, deliriously megalomaniacal and comically self-effacing. E. M. Cioran, another Malaspina favorite, suggested that "the company of mortals is, for a lucid man, pure torture," and this explains Currado's lack of close friends.

In a 1997 interview with Haftora Magazine Currado confided to renown clinical psychologist Beto Azzuri that his eminent sense of detachment is a bias as flawed as any other. "I recognize death and exile (la mort et l'exile) as the mitigating arteries of the well-intentioned life (la vie bien intentionnée)," he began promisingly enough, "but covetousness (convoitise) is the human condition and should not be tampered with too dramatically."

AN AWAKENING

Dear friend, I have reread the Gospels in my newfound confinement and the inscrutable conclusions that I have drawn are painfully disquieting ....

So states the bizarre missive that sits on my desk like a naked fuse. From the Boisset  psychiatric hospital where my long suffering friend Currado Malaspina is now taking the cure, lengthy manifestos and rambling disquisitions are springing from his pen with a stridency bordering on the erotic.

He has found religion, though I'm not quite certain toward which deity he directs his faith.

He frequently mentions Saint John Climacus, also known as John the Ladder, who from the Vatos Monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai lived a barren life of pious asceticism. The undeniably beautiful drawing above was sent to me recently, inscribed on the back with one of the 7th century monk's most curious aphorisms:

"He who is inclined to lust is merciful and tender-hearted: those who are inclined to purity are not so."

Currado has taken a physical detour which has unquestionably anchored him in a self-knowledge previously inaccessible.

MADNESS BECOMES CURRADO

BATHED IN ABSINTHIAN WISTFULNESS & MELANCHOLIC NOSTALGIA, CURRADO MALASPINA SITS BY THE WINDOW OF HIS SMALL CELL AND SKETCHES SCENES FROM HIS PAST.

  
Rough, awkward but unmistakably heartfelt,  Currado Malaspina's small new drawings are a sad, strong testament to his decayed vanity. Scrawled with a primitive hand-carved quill, these precious tracings are explicit maps of his wretched, broken mind.


In 1998, as a guest of Charo Valrhona, Cuba's genteel Minister of Arts and Sports, Currado was feted by the island's top luminaries. He played tennis with three time Olympic champion Donatello Borges, sang madrigals with the immortal coloratura Dobry Den Esponoza, discussed Hegel with the controversial cultural critic Djudeo Espanyol and went horseback riding with Fidel's nephew, the great harness racer Ocucaje Castro.


 His very public romance with the very married Romina Magia of the Ballet Nacional de Cuba was the cause of great scandal.  A vigil of international journalists camped in front of the Bosque Hotel in central Havana where he rented a suite of rooms. When Romina's husband Francesco blackened Currado's lower lip under the reproachful gaze of Che Guevara, the hungry shutters clicked in a tap dance of prurient fascination.


The other day, I received in the mail the above drawing. On the back was an inscription which read: "c'était la valeur la douleur."

CURRADO'S DEMONS

I often puzzle over the shrill and petty tone Currado takes when he writes about me and my work.Though I'm not one who is quick to take offense, the cumulative effect of his snide screeds and astringent asides is a weight I must reluctantly bear.

Hospitalier Spécialisé de Boisset, Western wall

Hospitalier Spécialisé de Boisset is a psychiatric care facility near the Dordogne River Valley. Among its illustrious alumni are the writers Shmuel Jacot and Delphine Issey-Ponqet, the painters Koloy and Iguire and the great mid-century songsmith Vuillet de Monchard.

At the time of this writing, residing in said hospital and under the watchful eye of both admirable and dubious clinicians is my poor, dear friend, Currado Malaspina.

It seems he has been diagnosed as paranoiac, His condition is apparently exacerbated by his drug addictions. I'm told he is delusional and unstable. He alternates between states of lyric eloquence and deranged hysteria. He's willfully incontinent. He doesn't eat.

I have chosen to attribute Currado Malaspina's demoniac diatribes to his nascent madness.

He still has his computer so don't expect an abatement of his attacks any time soon.