Sergei Polunin and The Club: "The Things I Cannot Say"

Reflections On The Mediation Of Artists In The West (And The Demand That They Dance To Depech Mode In A Black Cape Even If They're The Greatest Ballet Dancer)

“You like lose a person when he leaves…I think that’s the saddest feelings I had when I was a kid.”

“In England there was nobody to look after you or to…you’re basically by yourself. And theatre has their own interests as long as you perform well.”

—Sergei Polunin, The Fragile Balance

Yesterday’s Advent post opened up a discussion about Sergei Polunin. And lately, (for reasons I will explain later when I have time again) I want to let you know that I have a new lens. I see almost all things (a new recent shift) through the lens of Monarch programming, which begins with broken families, broken children—works through “entertainment” and “the arts,” to perpetuate its dark control grid.

Now all the pieces begin to come together, for example, why they love divorce, which is always a tragedy, which always destroys children, whether they (we) admit it or not.

Children of divorce go on to ruin their (our) own marriages. As if we had been… programmed.

(“They” being, roughly speaking, the Cabal.)

I feel Sergei Polunin is another “sacrifice” to the ones who have to possess and control all art, all artists. No artists or singers or dancers are allowed to be “free.” They have to be very heavily mediated, controlled, Monarch—programmed.

If he’d just gone to Russia could he have been allowed to just dance?

Not have to be always drenched in illuminati symbolism, makeup, sexual ambivalence (not his, I believe.) Who is his agent, who allows him to get roped in to trendy ballet noir projects all the time? And I used to know Anton Corbijn and he’s actually a nice guy, but come on.

I think there is a battle over Polunin in the so-called West, and all kinds of things are being “acted out.” He is unapologetically heterosexual, and a family man, who loves his wife and child. But why won’t “they” stop trying to make him this weird, dark figure all the time? We know the answer. (Ignore my questions.)

I see Polunin as another child, a fellow sad sibling, broken in half, unable to keep his family together. He starts doing something nobody can do, to address this pain of losing his family. That’s how I see him. Now he is the greatest dancer in the world and all that… but does he care? It’s a trauma wound that looks like a miracle of ballet.

It’s both.

Look how they are holding his face in this photo in the video below. They’re never subtle.

(Monarch programming?)

Is he a prisoner? A hostage? A doll?

He may still be the victor, in this battle.

“The Things I Cannot Say.”

“My Body is A Cage.” [Sergei, get away from globalist/Monarch weirdos. Refuse these agendas.]

Here’s the trailer:

“You like lose a person when he leaves…I think that’s the saddest feelings I had when I was a kid.”

Hang on—there are three Putin tattoos? I thought it was one Putin and one Trump. I have no idea what he is saying here. But I always have the feeling he can’t say things, that something or someone is telling him what he can and can not think, say, believe, in order to be a Major Artist in The So Called West.

[End]

Coda—Digressions, Loose Ends

Fame Is Filth

Fame is a consequence, a burden. Not a good thing. Not a thing to envy.

Nobody should worship anybody, under any circumstances.

It’s disgusting, actually.

It’s used by the illuminati, to great effect.

My father rebuked me once when I was 8, when I was begging for more details about his encounter with John Lennon, in which Lennon pulled him into a room at a Dakota party in the 70s and said he was a regular listener. When you’re 8 you think these people are Gods, almost literally.

Have I told you this story? He turned to face me—he was in the front seat of some car, I was in the back.

”Celia, never be impressed by celebrities,” he scolded.

I recoiled, and felt a radiating shame. He was right of course.

I wonder what that came from, in him.

He worshipped heroes of WW2—the ones who nobody else had ever heard of, like Gunnar Sunsteby.

”Sønsteby was working as an accountant when the Germans occupied Norway in 1940.”

Great quote:

“As long as I live, I will tell the important facts. The historians can analyze, but I was there."

Gunnar Sunsteby