The Ray

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (book review)

2012-01-31T11:37:00.000-08:00

I just read this book by Milan Kundera, written in '82, published in '84, and I was very impressed by it. One of the former colleagues of my Master's Degree recommended it to me last year and I'm glad that she did. It's a marvelous book. It's slow, but very real, very philosophical and very well written.

Kundera's intent is on exploring the unbearable lightness of being, that is, the fact that things are fleeting, will never happen again, and, if the human race goes extinct, may as well have never happened at all. He uses four primary characters - two womanizers, a mistress and a wife - to explore whether this lightness can lead to joy just as easily as it leads to angst and the feeling of constantly falling down the hole of nothingness. And, of course, morally speaking, if not even the "good" matters in such an existence, then how can its opposite?: "For how can we condemn something that is ephemeral, in transit? In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine" (p. 4).

The book goes back and forth in time. The tragic death of the two main characters is made known about mid-way, so that the prospect of death is always ominously looming over head in every scene that involves them and the unwinding of their lives, which, although they have been through a lot, now only mean anything substantial to each other, and even that substance is impermanent as well, just like everything else.

It takes place during Communist Russia's stronghold over Czechoslovakia and emphasizes much of what was happening in '68 and the years to follow, so the book is very political as well, and discusses what Kundera refers to as "kitsch," which is pretty much exactly what Ernest Becker refers to as the causa sui project in The Denial of Death, one of my most cherished books ever, which he won the Pulitzer Prize for in '74, but couldn't collect it, because he died in March of that year. He wrote it while he was dying, so it is written with his final blast of vitality, fire and strength of mind, and it appears that Kundera was heavily influenced by it, because he discusses matters such as our denial of bodily aspects like waste (due to our bodies representing death and decay), and other things on a grand scale that close down that barrier between spirit and body, "sublime and squalid, angel and fly, God and shit" (p. 261).

The book is very phenomenological and the characters are constantly dealing with the catch-22s of their lives that are hopelessly and ceaselessly plummeting towards the doom of annihilation, just like the rest of us. One of my favourite aspects of the book is the relationship the youngest of the four main characters, Tereza, has with her mother, who, after losing her youth and beauty to the wrong man, raises Tereza as if beauty and the body do not matter at all, nor social propriety of any kind, and, although she spends twenty years trying to ingrain this notion into her very feminine daughter's head, all she does is create a narcissist. She is quite the character indeed. The end of the first introduction to this anonymous woman made me laugh hard. (Kundera has a great, though dark, sense of humour). The effect she had on Tereza mentally and emotionally is profound, and Tereza carries it heavily into her relationship with the main character of the book: Tomas.

I did not really like the ending; it seemed empty and insipid, but all and all I understand why it is such a classic novel, and I now most humbly recommend it to you - my dear ones. Enjoy it, if you so choose to delve in.

Women Woman-Haters

2011-12-27T13:07:00.000-08:00

It disgusts me the way women talk about each other. The biggest woman-haters are not, and never have been, men – they’re women! How can women expect men to respect woman-kind, when they can’t even respect each other? What are these disgusting terms they use to denote other women who dare to live promiscuously: “cheap,” “slutty,” “skanky,” “a whore,” and combinations of them like, “slutty, skanky whore?” It’s loathsome and it has always bothered me. It’s most pathetic, however, when it comes from women who are too unattractive and sexually unappealing to have men fawning all over them in the first place, and so lash out at women (who can get that kind of attention) with these despicable insults and the like, either because of the way she dresses (usually sexy, and I have no idea what’s wrong with sexy), or because she has slept (or would sleep) with a lot of guys, or because she was always a good, little virgin, who went out the other night to a club or bar, met a guy and went home with him. So big fuckin’ deal!! What’s it to you? I don’t understand! How does that make her sexually immoral or whorish, because she isn’t afraid to explore her sexuality and be sated? Maybe if these harridans weren’t so afraid of getting some more often themselves, and, hence, weren’t so uptight, they’d be a lot happier, instead of being miserably preoccupied with the sex-lives of others! I’m so sick of this petty bullshit! It’s hard enough to get laid as it is, without women inhibiting other women with their slander.

I know where this vulgar stupidity comes from, though. It’s part of the unfortunately vast, excruciatingly inexorable resin left over by Christian value-judgement; in particularly, 1 Corinthians 6:13-15, where the renowned misogynist, Paul of Tarsus, argues his theory (very poorly I might add) that fornication is like putting the body of Christ with a prostitute; meaning, if a woman fornicates she’s a whore! Yeah, thanks for that Paul - you fucking asshole!

The inability some people have to just stop caring so much what others do with their own bodies and lives, and giving a damn what others think, is beyond me! Leave our sex-lives alone! And the preposterously moronic guys who contribute to this shit by demeaning promiscuous women as being only worthy of being fucked and left, deserve to be hung up by their tiny testicles and beaten with a sledge hammer! You’re making it incredibly harder on yourselves and the rest of us to get laid, you idiots, because women end up being more inhibited and uncomfortable about their sexuality, whether they are religious or not. Can’t you see that you’re shooting yourselves in the foot? You’re promiscuous, so why can’t a woman be? Why shouldn’t she be? And then you complain about some chick not giving it up or playing hard to get. Well, what do you expect with this kind of chauvinistic culture, where a man can be the biggest man-whore in the world and get away with it, while a woman’s “reputation” (and I never did get that word in this context) is maligned and shamed for the exact same thing? Why the double-standard? Why strengthen and bolster it with such idiocy? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s JUST SEX!!!

I think this world would be so much happier and at ease if these god-forsaken stigmas surrounding sexuality weren’t so prevalent after all this fucking time. It bothers me the most, however, when it comes from women themselves. It’s so self-defeating, so masochistic, so contemptuous, so hateful – so mean…so fucking mean. Why hate on your sisters so brutally, ladies? Why lash out at them for what they do with the orifices of their own bodies? Maybe it’s because they can do it guilt-free and you can’t, and the jealousy of that consumes you, blackening out all reason, logic, rationality and the ability to be happy for someone else’s joy? Does the resentment you have towards these others consume you to the point where you feel the need to contribute to the supposedly patriarchal society that you hate so much? Well, then, it is only you, who can change that.

As for the rest of you women out there, you know I have always loved you and always will so very dearly. The majority of the world could, and should, learn from you, but I fear it may never do so, not in 2012 and not ever, because the mob are too busy telling others how to live, and virulently disdaining them for not conforming. In the meantime, ladies, please, don’t ever change, that is, don’t let defamation and obnoxious sexual hang-ups change you. I like you just the way you are. Disregard these petty societal mores, don't even think twice about them. Be the fun-loving person you naturally are in your own skin, and don't allow yourself to be filled with unwarranted guilt and shame, because one thing a person can never be for wanting to experience life to the fullest is "cheap." What’s cheap is condemning others in order to feel superior to them, and, hence, better about oneself. It’s pathetic and it’s weak, and I’m so goddamn sick of it. So fuck what others think! They obviously don’t give a damn about thinking for themselves anyway. Too bad, so sad.

Have a Happy (and hopefully easy) New Year. :D

Sincerely,

Happy Halloween!!

2011-10-31T16:02:00.000-07:00

I started playing guitar again shortly after I got back from St. Catharines. God, I missed it. It had been nearly 6 years since I'd picked it up, but I'll never make that mistake again. It's me and the old six-string for good this time. Here's a little sample that I did a couple weeks ago. I pretty much just winged it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFt3sDY4uVc

I did something especially for Halloween yesterday. I tried to make my Yamaha sound spooky and ominous and then my Mexican Strat sound frantic and heart-racing. See for yourself and tell me if I succeeded. I made a few mistakes and rushed a couple of notes, but fuck it, it was mainly improvisation for a fun time of year, anyway. Plus, all that clothing was getting way too hot to do all that over again. Concentration makes me warm up a lot: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-_N0ijas20

The costume you see me wearing there is called The Prophet of Darkness. I wore it to an insane Halloween/Birthday party in Norval on Friday. They reserved a school bus that went from Union Station to the City Centre in Brampton, picked up about 20 more people there and then went to the final destination, which was St. Paul's Cathedral - a tiny little church. Its basement/communal area was reserved for the party (bar and all). About 200 people showed up. My close friend, Chris (Darth Vader that night), kept thanking me profusely for making him come along. The chicks were half naked. I LOVE that - surprise, surprise. It's my favourite aspect of this time of year. I made out with three hot chicks, and danced quite a bit with two of them. GLORIOUS!! Unfortunately, they live in Brampton; too far for me. :(

I enjoy Halloween more and more every year. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed yours.

Ciao for now.

- The Ray

Happy 30 to Me! :)

2011-07-19T13:34:00.000-07:00

I bury my youth today. I've earned every right to bury it. And although I say goodbye to my youth as I place a red rose on its tomb, it is not dead, no, it lives on, for its fire stays with me. My 20s may have started off rocky, but they ended with a bang: graduating from college at 22, living in Dubai for 7 months when I was 23, losing my religion, and, hence, being emancipated, shortly after coming back, getting a four-year Honours BA in only three-years time, finishing on the Sessional Academic Achievement List, learning the art of seduction (something I'm ALWAYS working on improving, as I love women with all my heart and soul), meeting a lot of great people, making tons of new friends, losing some, going to Cuba on my own 2 days after my 29th Birthday, finishing my book back in November (now to try and get it published), meeting a hot Colombian nurse on Plenty of Fish, whom I've been nailing on and off since March, going to Hawaii for 10 days this passed May (as I was asked to speak at the Tenth East-West Philosophers' Conference, held every 5 years - a trip that, for the most part, was covered by my university, as I was representing it), working as a TA from September to April ( a fabulous experience), finishing my Master's Degree in Eastern and Continental Philosophy (with an A average) in the very lovely St. Catharines (where it's been a joy and privilege to live in, where the air is Niagara-fresh and the girls go absolutely wild come Friday and Saturday night), etc., etc.

Hawaii is, indeed, paradise, and is a place that I had been wanting to go to for as long as I can remember. The night life is amazing. The clubs stay open till 4. People are so incredibly friendly, too, because, well, what reason do they have to be grouchy? Honolulu will always live in my heart, along with its beautiful University of Hawaii at Manoa campus that I was allowed to stay at, the lovely, sweet Lovi (pronounced lo-vee), whom I danced and made out with all night at Ocean Night Club, and, of course, the breathtaking, stunning, sweet and petite Boram - a beautiful 29-year-old Korean woman from the States, who didn't look a day over 19 - in the second year of her PhD, also there for the conference, and whom I spent much time with in her dorm room. :)

Things have become a lot easier for me now when it comes to getting attractive women. They've become so much more of a pleasure than a frustration. I seem to be getting refined with age. Plus, the older women get, the more they can appreciate a handsome, intelligent, charming man, so I definitely look forward to my new age group (not that I'm going to leave the college girls behind, of course! No, no! Not for a LONG time to come). I recommend two books to all struggling guys out there: The Game and The Rules of the Game. I suggest reading the latter before the former, and shame on me for waiting over two years to read it after reading The Game, which changed my life for good, for better and forever. As for Hawaii, it was the perfect final trip of my 20s, and my presentation, which was a comparative essay on Merleau-Ponty and Nagarjuna, went very well. I got good questions, and answered them all thoroughly and enthusiastically. I still hate Merleau-Ponty, though, but not nearly as much as I hate Husserl. Nietzsche is still my fouvourite, and he's the reason I am where I am in my life right now. My MA's Major Research Project was/is entitled, "Friedrich Nietzsche and the Contingencies of Christianity." Quite quaint, I think. :)

Final MA Presentation on Nietzsche's Zarathustra

2011-04-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

On the Spirit of Gravity

In facing the spirit of gravity, Lampert explains, Zarathustra finally “confronts his mortal enemy in a way that finally exposes it completely” (p. 196). It is the “master of the world,” meaning the age-old will-to-nothingness within man. “As such it is the force holding everyone” stagnant – it is nihilism. When this oppressive spirit within man was mentioned in “The Dancing Song,” it was only as a precursor for a victory yet to come. It is in this section of Zarathustra that Nietzsche makes clear why it is the master of the world, how it can be overcome, and why defeating it would mean the rise of a new age. The reason it is master of the world, is because it gives things an unwarranted weight that makes them, and, hence, life, seem intrinsically bogged down, heavy and hopeless. Thus, it “is Zarathustra’s special devil because, as master of the world,” it must also be what is mastered by Zarathustra. If it is the weight of a nihilistically intuitive worldview and sentimentality, then it is, indeed, Zarathustra’s special devil, that is, his special task, and the task that he has known all along, and which has been ominously weighing down on him from the moment he stepped out of his cave. For this adversary is not a weak or cowardly one, albeit subterranean in nature. This is a most worthy adversary of Zarathustra’s, and one which will require every ounce of his free spirit in order to claim victory over it, and, to be sure, it is his “most important victory” (Lampert, p. 197). The reason being is that Zarathustra’s mission is a revaluation of all values - that is, in giving a new value, a new weight, to all things. He can only achieve this, after getting rid of what currently gives things their weight and value – that, of course, being the spirit of gravity. It is his one true stumbling block in achieving and living out his mission.

Lampert explains that this victory is not merely a doing away with this spirit of gravity through ascension and light feet, but rather re-centering the gravity, to give less weight to those things which have been a stumbling block to humanity, and more weight to those things which are worthy of greater significance, but which have been deprived of it, by this anti-life-affirming spirit. The very notion of the eternal return, which is itself the heaviest of burdens, is to be used to reform the spirit of gravity into something worthy of the overman, and which can replace the mainstream descent of mankind with ascension. This requires an affirmative will, which demands that only the consummation of life eternally return, not a nihilistic spirit that saps humanity of its precious vitality, which is something of utmost importance to Nietzsche, preventing the very possibility of the overman.

One of the tactics the spirit of gravity uses is grounding its inexorable demands of individuals in claiming they owe it to their very nature, or are obliged out of duty to others and to themselves to prostrate themselves before the divine truths that come from a God that loves them and wants what is best for them, that they follow conventions and morality of custom that have merely been foisted upon mankind for millennia. Hence people feel the need to adopt the views of men who have been dead for centuries, in order to please the herd, whom have completely fallen for the spirit of gravity, as if it is genuine, absolute truth a priori. As if it is the holiest of spirits compelling them towards what they ought to do to achieve righteousness and transcendence. It makes one feel as if they are only being authentic when being as inauthentic as possible, and that they are consummating themselves with nature, all the while they are living in a state of anti-nature. It is the turning of truth upon its head, and the propagation of conventional truths and morality generation after generation, limiting the horizon, stifling individuality, and castrating any hope of reaching a oneness with a genuine state of nature. As Lampert says, “The spirit of gravity is the force that ties one’s deepest loyalties to external matters that come out of the past, bearing the weight of grave tradition and certified as one’s own by every authority that counts” (p. 198). A real, true “own,” however, is one’s true, natural self, free from unwarranted guilt, and external compulsions like convention. A free spirit works from internal compulsion; that is, what belongs to him/herself, and not from the dogmas of herd-mentality that come from without. That is a form of slavery, not free-spiritedness. Therefore, Zarathustra advocates a love of oneself as what truly belongs to a person’s desires, thoughts and feelings, minus the desires, thoughts and feelings of what Heidegger referred to as the “they-self.” The love of one’s own is dominant through all and everyone, Nietzsche realized, but wished to compel people to free themselves from being bogged down by the love of what is their own through acquisition, rather than what is really and truly their own genuinely.

Lampert says that, to be specific, one can think of the spirit of gravity as Platonism, which has always been Nietzsche’s main target. I think of it more as being the spirit of Platonism, that is, the intrinsic drive within the herd towards Platonic type thinking, hence why at the end of the Anti-Christ he refers to Christianity, which is Platonism for the people, as an “intrinsic depravity.” It has mastered the world by making its demands appear sacrosanct and worthy of reverence by claiming them to be not only holy, but the true, authentic nature within man – that is, its crafty claim that our true nature is to transcend our bodies and the things of this world. What has followed from this poisonous cobweb spinning, is that everything that grounds our centre of gravity towards the earth and this life has been decentred, in the process replacing our joy in life with a solemnity in life, poisoning life through the human mind with its anti-natural, anti-life-affirming venom, replacing good, strong, ascending instincts, with bad, crippling, degenerate ones. Humanity has for too long believed that the undignified, and what saps us of any and all dignity whatsoever, is what is truly dignified. Therefore, humankind will only ever truly progress, when it finally sees through these subterranean tactics; and in freeing itself from such shackles, it will ascend. Humanity, or a given individual, must allow themselves to find their place within nature, once again, and the only way we can accomplish this, is when we do away with this most wearying, vitality-sapping, utterly depressant spirit of gravity, and, in the process, all the products of its venom and vitriol will have also been done away with – Platonism, Christianity, dualism, the will-to-equality, pessimism, and so on. It is all nihilism, and it is, for Nietzsche, an awful annihilation of the human spirit. This can well be paralleled with his words in Ecce Homo:

And lest I leave any doubt about my very decent and strict views in these matters, let me still cite a proposition against vice from my moral code: I use the word 'vice' in my fight against every kind of antinature or, if you prefer pretty words, idealism. The proposition reads: 'The preaching of chastity amounts to a public incitement to antinature. Every kind of contempt for sex, every impurification of it by means of the concept ‘impure,’ is the crime par excellence against life – is the real sin against the holy spirit of life.'

The chapter begins with a poetic play on words that are to exemplify and mirror Zarathustra’s very bodily being, which itself, in all its movements, activities, joyful instincts and creativity opposes the spirit of gravity, which is not swift enough to overtake Zarathustra’s dancing feet. Rather than to go under, his aim is to ascend towards the heights of the soul that is worthy of love; a soul that is to overcome the many ignoble lies of Plato and Christianity and is, therefore, able to love itself. It is not loving one’s neighbour which is the most noble, honest and righteous form of love, as propagated by popular convention post-Christianity, but rather a person’s love for him or herself. For one has to be able to love oneself before they can truly love another, and put oneself before others, in order to take others into consideration at all. This is Zarathustra’s special art-form, Lampert explains, for it teaches one, to love themselves, in order to locate their greatest and most profoundest of inner qualities; their eyes of care and concern are fixed inwards, rather than merely outwards towards people, who, for the most part, may not care about them at all. Hence why “the classical distinction between love of one’s own and love of the good collapses for the artist who discovers in what is his own what is most lovable or what is good in itself” (p. 200). This is how the spirit of gravity or Platonism is to be overcome. The good is to be located in the self and the love of the self, not in Plato’s World of Ideas, and not in Christianity’s notions of morality, holiness and the Kingdom of Heaven. As Nietzsche once quipped, “In heaven all the interesting people are missing.” That is, if it exists, it is filled with people who were, in life, too cowardly to fulfill their passions, to push their creativity to its fullest infinitude of potential and to dare to even question authority. Zarathustra is not of this kind.

He who embraces the infinite horizon of life, annihilating all “boundary stones” in his way, will “rebaptize the earth” Nietzsche tells us, and he is called “the light one.” “But whoever would become light and a bird must love himself,” Zarathustra teaches. And they must love themselves with a “wholesome and healthy love,” so that they can tolerate being themselves, and alone with themselves, without the need of fleeing themselves into another, as with the masquerade and pretence of loving their neighbour out of so-called duty, when really it is out of an inner need to be more and feel like more – in fact, to no longer have to peer into the disingenuous wasteland - of themselves. Such a gravity-laden command, found in Mark 12:31, of loving one’s neighbour as much as oneself, despite who one’s neighbour might be, Nietzsche believes, has spawned the greatest of lies and hypocrisies perpetrated against human life so far, especially by those who have been the greatest of burdens to themselves and to others, giving them holy reason to intrude in the affairs of their neighbours out of what they call “love.” Not to mention that to make a duty out of life, sucks the life out of life.

From birth, Zarathustra explains, we are burdened with the notions of “good” and “evil,” which are craftily and vengefully presented to us as invaluable knowledge that has, we are to believe without question, been gifted to us by the grace of God himself. Nietzsche satirises Matthew 19:14 and Mark 10:14, where Christ says, “Suffer the little children to come unto me,” having his Zarathustra claim, or insinuate, that it is for the purpose of filling little children with perverted lies that keep them from even being able to love themselves, due to the unwarranted guilt that the spirit of gravity demands they be infected with, while they are still too helpless to defend themselves intellectually. Zarathustra then denies ardently that life is a burden, that is, a veil of tears, as Christianity, AKA: the spirit of gravity, would have us believe; rather, it is man who “is a grave burden to himself,” for “he carries on his shoulders too much that is alien to him,” that is, the external compulsions that do not belong to his true nature, and true desires. “He loads too many alien grave words and values on himself,” says Zarathustra, “and then life seems a desert to him.”

Zarathustra rightly admits, however, that what is noblest and greatest in an individual is also a burden, that is, it is burdensome for the profound, prolific free-spirit who, like Zarathustra, demands that they locate this greatness within themselves, uncovering what is most awesome in their soul. It is no easy task, especially since the spirit of gravity stands before the soul like a giant Cyclops, refusing to see or hear anything other than his own tunnel-vision, preventing the entrance to the greatness within oneself to even be suspected, let alone seen. However, he who discovers this profundity within himself, is able to create his own values, and say, “this is my good and evil,” and with that is able to stifle the mole and dwarf, that is, the petty, who express their will-to-power with the poisonous life-violations of absolute morality, a high and mighty claim to a, “Good for all, evil for all.” But life is not a cookie cutter. Far from it. Which is why he ends by telling those who asked him for “the way” what his way is, “for the way – that does not exist.”

Moreover, Zarathustra is neither impressed by those who are satisfied with everything in life, always saying yes to things big and small; omni-satisfaction Zarathustra calls it, while demanding a refined palpate, a rank of taste. He says he loves blood and wants it mixed with the colours of life, that is, he loves life with a whole heart, and if he says Yea to something, it is not like the ass who says it to everything, but, rather, because it speaks to his very soul, and calls out to him, and, thus, he to it. A satisfaction with everything, on the other hand, is akin to falling in love with deadness – a morbid romance with mummies and ghosts, stagnant values that one is either too lazy or afraid to overcome – that is, a love of things rather than life: empty, superficial love, void of passion, void of the depths of the bodily soul – void of creation and revaluation. Such people as this love simply for the sake of loving, out of the will-to-convention and the virtues that make small. Instead of any kind of person, or soul, as Zarathustra calls it, within them, they have merely phantoms passing through them from moment to moment. There is no person to be found, or to hold on to. There is no one to do any grasping for life.

He calls cursed those who are only able to either “become evil beasts or evil tamers of beasts” and nothing else. They are cursed, for their horizon is forever limited, and their lives are as meagre and as bland as can be. The same goes, Zarathustra explains, for those who do nothing but wait: “the publicans and shopkeepers and kings and other land- and storekeepers.” Their lives are boring, gloomy and dry, and instead of trying to do and be more, they simply look ahead, as if better things may come tomorrow, without them having to even try to better themselves and their lives. They are men and women of sloth and boredom. “This, however, is my doctrine,” Zarathustra says: “he who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance: one cannot fly into flying.” If one is to ascend, therefore, they must be able to first put one step forward, and enhance their vitality and lust for life. Before Zarathustra learned to fly like a bird, he explains to them, he first had to learn to climb to the heights of high masts. This was his way of reaching his truth, he explains, and “preferred to question and try out the ways themselves.” “A trying and questioning was my every move,” he says, “and verily, one must also learn to answer such questioning. That, however, is my taste – not good, not bad, but my taste of which I am no longer ashamed and which I have no wish to hide.” That is, one cannot fear going out into the world, trying and experiencing new things, thinking new and often frightful thoughts and ideas, and searching for themselves, in order to then be true to that self that they have discovered, and which must never stagnate and be satisfied with complacency, but, rather, always change and overcome itself. We each have to find our own way, however, for there can never be one way. Life is far too dynamic, and each person is unique – just like everybody else.

On Old and New Tablets:

Joy and innocence are not things to be sought, only had; rather it is guilt and suffering that are sought. However, Zarathustra, and those of his kind, feel no joy if they do not give it in return, unlike the rabble, who are complacent in living as if not alive at all.

Those with an unclean spirit, monstrous in their foul pessimism, like Schopenhauer, are despisers of life and the world, and claim the world to be objectively bad, but that is only because they are bad, that is, failures in it from the start, who hang their heads in shame, and so wish to throw shame upon the world. Their nausea is to be overcome, for it is infectious, and takes flight.

Without laughter and dance, life is not worth living, for nothing would be worth doing. A day goes unfulfilled if deficient joy and laughter.

Third MA Presentation on Nietzsche's Zarathustra

2011-04-01T21:57:00.001-07:00

On Passing By

On his way back to his cave Zarathustra came across the gate of a giant city. A man consumed by wrath and indignation stood between him and the entrance, forbidding Zarathustra to enter, for he cared about his hero too much, to have him experience the disgust, nausea and contempt that he had experienced there himself. He was enraged by the inhabitants of the city, frothing at the mouth as he warned of their stupidity and retardation, fuming about their press, their educational system, their morality of custom, their religiosity, their decadence – their weakness. He tells Zarathustra that such a place is hell itself for a hermit such as he – that is, a man of rumination, thoughtfulness and concern. He tells Zarathustra that it is a city where “you could find nothing and lose everything.” That is, he himself has gained nothing there but heartache and misery, rather than the enrichment of his soul, and, in the process, he has lost his patience, his kindness, his love of humanity – possibly even his mind. Nothing consumes him now but indignation and disdain. “Don’t you smell the slaughterhouses and ovens of the spirit even now,” he asks Zarathustra. “Does not this town steam with fumes of slaughtered spirit?” In this way he betrays that his own spirit has been slaughtered by the rabid base-mindedness of the mob there, and now all that is left in him is the need to lash out at a city that has taken everything from him that made him the life-affirming free spirit that he once was, turning him into the man of resentment and hostility, standing before Zarathustra now.

He rants that they are easily fulfilled by base things such as alcohol, the empty words of disinterested spirits (or frozen spirits, as he calls them) and are mindlessly led like sheep by the status quo. He detests them more than anything he could ever possibly imagine, and so he spits and snarls as he raves and points his finger at the gate. The virtuous among them are not, this supposed disciple of Zarathustra explains, virtuous in Zarathustra’s sense, but rather virtuous in their sense. The virtuous ones of this morbid, forlorn city dwelling ominously behind the gate are flatterers, phonies, play-actors and liars – that is, they are the representatives of the inhabitants of the city, telling them what they want to hear, by merely echoing and affirming their thoughts, beliefs and so-called truths. They are the moral heroes of the town because they exalt the social mores and attitudes of the people within it, and so the citizens cheer on these ostentatious thinkers, writers and orators, and, in doing so, they cheer on their own vulgar, impoverished egos. They count on these so-called virtuous ones of theirs to justify their petty lives, petty thoughts, petty feelings, petty piety, petty virtues. So this man of wrath and dismay pleads with his master to spit at the entrance of the city, rather than enter it, and keep walking. For it is a city of “shopkeepers,” meaning plebeians of small lives and low-mindedness.

Zarathustra at this point silences this ranting, raving fool, foaming at the mouth, for he is officially as nauseated by him as he is by the town of degenerates. He feels that his teachings have been defamed by coming out of the mouth of such an unsophisticated, vengeance-fuelled fool such as this. He asks him why he so masochistically spent so much time in a lifeless place that he hates so much, until he himself was destroyed by it, and made into a mere shell of the man he once was. All this madman can offer anyone now is his nihilistic wrath of despondence and unfaith. He has dark, hopeless veils over his eyes, and can’t affirm, since he no longer feels that anything there is salvageable. Zarathustra reprimands him for now being led and controlled by so much hateful resentment and revenge, two things which he has made clear that he despises. The fool has allowed the muck and swamp of a people he refers to as frogs and toads to pollute his spirit and turn him into one, as well. He is called the ape of Zarathustra, because he is merely an imitation of Zarathustra’s very high standard, and is too apish to realize that he is acting in a way that is pitiful and lowbrow in the eyes of the philosopher and poet that he so thoroughly admires. But Zarathustra realizes, after a long silence, that this misguided disciple of his was right in there being nothing to better or worsen in that great city, and wishes it the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra, making his feelings towards the city just as hostile and acrid as the fool’s, if not more so. This shows, Lampert explains, that “Zarathustra and the fool have the same advice for each other based on” the irony “that each can see in the other but not in himself,” showing that “to abide in the place that is loathed,” thoroughly “corrupts the one who loathes,” even to the point of blindness towards the self. Before he leaves, however, he gives one piece of wisdom for the plight of the fool before him that “where one can no longer love, there one should pass by.” And continuing on in his journey, he left the fool and the great city behind. Perhaps if he had not heeded the warnings of the fool, and entered this great city, he himself would have lost all of his loving nature, as well, and become as this fool, whose very presence is a warning on its own of what Zarathustra, or any free spirit, for that matter, could turn into, if consumed by the wrong surroundings for too long.

Second MA Presentation on Nietzsche's Zarathustra

2011-03-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

On Immaculate Perception

This section begins with a pregnancy, but this pregnancy is a fallacious one. It offers nothing to Zarathustra but deceit, and the one to be pointed out and censured for this trickery is “the monk in the moon,” who, we are told is “lecherous after the earth and all the joys of lovers.” That is, he is resentful towards what he cannot have, and so he condemns it. His lecherousness resides in the fact that because he cannot have the joys of the earth, he craves them even more – out of lust, pride and vanity, all things he surely condemns. And the only way he can assail these things that he feels alienated from and deprived of, is through condemnation and an unearned feeling of virtue and superiority through false claims of morality, purity and holiness, because he does not indulge in them (albeit because he can’t), nor does he desire them (at least not with the innocence of those he condemns because they can indulge in them). “O you sentimental hypocrites, you lechers,” Zarathustra tells such people. “You lack innocence in your desire and therefore you slander desire,” for they desire only in contempt and with eyes of envy. They call themselves “pure perceivers,” because they look, but do not indulge, and put on this facade under the pretext that it is due to their will-power and self-mastery that they do not take part in carnal and worldly joys. And so they take pride in this ostentation, though Zarathustra sees them for the dishonest, pretentious, inverse-hedonists that they are, and he condemns them with the same ferocity that they condemn others; and he condemns them for the same carnality and foulness that they perceive and scold in others, for they are just as lascivious as he is, if not more so, however quench this thirst of theirs differently; for that desire is still at bottom the same as it is in those they call wicked, for it still resides in their bodies, making it just as carnal, even if it does become satiated through a different means: “You too love the earth and the earthly,” Zarathustra tells them: “I have seen through you; but there is shame in your love and bad conscience – you are like the moon. Your spirit has been persuaded to despise the earthly; but your entrails have not been persuaded, and they are what is strongest in you. And now your spirit is ashamed at having given in to your entrails, and, to hide from its shame, it sneaks on furtive and lying paths.” That is, no matter how much they condemn these things they cannot have, they still desire them, although they never admit this to themselves, and the drive and need towards these things that have left a void within them still rages on within their veins, and it must be fulfilled somehow, and it is through ascetic morality that their wrathful natures and inverted bodily lusts are sublimated.

This is how their shame is done away with: through the mask and masquerade of claims of virtue, godliness, holiness, righteousness, purity, etc., but Nietzsche knows that these are just words to cover up shame, guilt and feelings of failure and inadequacy, and to replace them with feelings of justification and consolation. It is a life of disingenuousness, wretchedness, crafty vengefulness and untruth. As he says in The Anti-Christ: “Nihilistic values hold sway under the holiest names.” And of course his stern warning: “Compulsion to lie - in that I detect every predestined theologian.” His Zarathustra pears into their minds and reads their thoughts: “‘To be happy in looking, with a will that has died and without the grasping and greed of selfishness, the whole body cold and ashen, but with drunken moon eyes. This I should like best’ – thus the seduced seduces himself.” And, of course, this self-seduction, this self-deceit, grants this type of person a feeling of good conscience, which is the only joyous sensation left for him or her. As he also states elsewhere in The Anti-Christ: “Whoever has theologian blood in his veins has a wrong and dishonest attitude towards all things from the very first. The pathos that develops out of this is called faith: closing one’s eyes with respect to oneself for good and all so as not to suffer from the sight of incurable falsity.”

Moreover, the imagery Nietzsche uses of a “cold and ashen” body ties in quite well with an interpretation of the statement “God is dead,” which is rarely discussed or even touched upon. As far as Nietzsche could see, the Christian god wants more than anything that we deny ourselves the sensualities and worldliness of this life (Stoic philosophy, the dominating philosophy of Tarsus, where St. Paul was from, being the backbone of the New Testament). But for Nietzsche, self-denial is the embrace of nothingness (a dominating theme throughout his later works). It is the embrace of death while still alive. Basically, it is the crucifixion of all that makes us human. For Nietzsche, the ascetic monk who has been able to kill off all his desires, and blunt himself against life, is officially dead. He walks, talks, eats, breathes, etc., but he is dead. The shell of a hallow man, one might say. And because the Christian god wants self-abnegation of us as an ideal, he – is dead. It is for this that in Twilight of the Idols he calls Christianity a “hangman’s metaphysics,” (The Four Great Errors, 7), and says that “Christianity, which despised the body, has up till now been mankind’s greatest misfortune” (Expeditions, 47). Or as he so succinctly summed it up in The Anti-Christ: “In God nothingness deified, the will to nothingness sanctified!” (18). For all that is left for a person in such a morbid state of a constantly longing, unfilled will, is to express their will to power by willing nothing at all, and easing their suffering of un-fulfilment by killing off that which demands fulfilment – that, of course, being desire. And, hence, his thesis statement and conclusion to his third and final essay of On the Genealogy of Morals, What is the Meaning of Ascetic Ideals?: that “man would rather will nothingness than not will.”

And the reason Nietzsche uses the imagery of the moon at all, in this section of Zarathustra, is because of the paleness he associates with the sick bodies of such a ghastly lot as this. And when he speaks of “drunken moon eyes,” he is speaking of the contemptuous, self-loathing, angst-ridden glance of the most lowly, subterranean character he has every encountered in this life, best depicted in Book III, Section 14 of On the Genealogy of Morals:

The sick are man’s greatest danger; not the evil, not the “beasts of prey.” Those who are failures from the start, downtrodden, crushed – it is they, the weakest, who must undermine life among men, who call into question and poison most dangerously our trust in life, in man, and in ourselves. Where does one not encounter that veiled glance which burdens one with a profound sadness, that inward-turned glance of the born failure which betrays how such a man speaks to himself – that glance which is a sigh! “If only I were someone else,” sighs this glance: “but there is no hope of that. I am who I am: how could I ever get free of myself? And yet – I am sick of myself!”

Now, back to the beginning: how is the pregnancy Nietzsche speaks of in the beginning of this section, a false, empty one? Zarathustra chastises these people, who claim to have achieved an immaculate perception with the accusation that “it is not as creators, procreators, and those who have joy in becoming that you love the earth. Where is innocence? Where there is a will to procreate. And he who wants to create beyond himself has the purest will.” The problem is that the type of person whom is Nietzsche’s target here, cannot create beyond him or herself, so condemns anyone who can, which, according to Nietzsche, makes their will quite impure, and lacking any and all innocence, for they do not have a will to procreate. They lack joy in becoming, are not creators and are deficient any and all love of the earth and what proceeds from it, such as nature. They wage war on nature, and wish to strip it bare with their idealistic, anti-natural, vengeance-fuelled morality. Although they put on the facade of sanctimony, it is for no one’s good but their own, making the supposed pregnancy which fools Zarathustra in the beginning, a mere veneer meant to conceal the fact that these loathsome, self-hating, life-hating human beings are walking, talking abortions. "Who alone has reason to lie himself out of actuality?” asks Nietzsche in The Anti-Christ. “He who suffers from it. But to suffer from actuality means to be an abortive actuality."

They mask their “emasculated leers,” Zarathustra says, with the label of so-called contemplation, and they baptize their sloth and cowardice in the face of even trying to reach their fullest potential with the label of beauty. This is how they “soil noble names,” as Nietzsche puts it: by calling what is ugly and atrocious wise, beautiful, profound, graceful, etc. These are hollow misrepresentations, and inversions of the reality they really are: despisers of life, life-affirmation and the ascending type. They are decadents, and because they are filled with decay, and can do nothing but live a life of decline, they sanctify decay, and attempt to nullify all that pertains to what is antithetical to them and their petty expressions of will-to-power – that is, they condemn the ascending life, and he or she who dares to live by it. It is this decay that has Zarathustra tell them that “bad air always surrounds you and your meals: for your lecherous thoughts, your lies and secrets, are in the air.” They are the Crucified-type, and, for Nietzsche, a breed of man that has always existed: world-weary calumniators of the earth, and slanderers of the body, completely degenerate in instinct, retarded in spirituality. They are a blight in the eye of the type free-spirit, and the Dionysian free-spirit a blight in theirs.

To them, Zarathustra gives their well-earned imprecation – that though they may feel themselves powerful by attempting to limit the horizon of creators, hence what is meant by lying “broad and pregnant on the horizon,” they themselves will never give birth. They may experience the pangs of birth, but to no avail. To try and placate these birth-pangs they may use all the aforesaid tactics, but Zarathustra tells them, “Verily, you fill your mouth with noble words; and are we to believe that your heart is overflowing, you liars?” That is, it is nothing pure and genuine, in Nietzsche’s sense, that overflows in them, only ressentiment and hatred of anything that ascends above them. That is why they are actually snakes behind godlike masks of purity, holiness and philosophical contemplation. They are not immaculate perceivers, they are cowardly, vicious, contemptuous, corrupt perceivers, and all their hopes, tenets and goals are tainted with their decay and despondence in the eyes of life. So it is inevitable that when the day dawns, the paleness that they share with the moon should set with them. Because, though they may try to overcome life, and those who are able to consummate themselves with it, they are destined to lose, because what are they in the face of everything, but dust, and a passing away, and something to be overcome? The love and passion for life born in those of spiritual kin to Zarathustra, is of the liking to Nietzsche’s depiction here of the sun sucking up the sea and drinking its depth into its heights, and the whole of life demanding that it be this way, for “it wants to be kissed and sucked by the thirst of the sun; it wants to become air and height and footpath of light, and itself light. Verily, like the sun,” Zarathustra says, “I love life and the deep seas,” and because Zarathustra and life are meant to be consummated together – because everything in him aches to suck the marrow out of life - he feels that life itself, as with the infinite horizon of the sea, wishes to rise up to his heights. He effects life, life does not merely effect him.

According to Lampert, this section of Zarathustra has specifically to do with scholars and philosophers who deny themselves the body, as is Socrates’ demand in The Phaedo, in order to better achieve enlightenment and objective knowledge “by ridding the self of the distortions of personal and local perspectives.” They think that one must kill off the bodily in order to sufficiently subdue the subjective aspect of perception in order to reach immaculate, that is, objective, perception. Nietzsche himself in his earlier work of Human, All-Too Human, did critique the ascetic ideal, however, he did believe that objective knowledge was possible, for at that time he held the view of a positive scientist. As Lampert says, “He had admired as divine the aspiration of the modern philosopher or scientific researcher to become the perspective-free viewer of the thing to be known, to achieve what they themselves want to call ‘contemplation.’” He also explains that it is Zarathustra’s goal here to fill with shame these so-called objective spirits, by using sexual imagery to show them that they are merely ashamed of the lusts inside themselves that they feel are impure, so demand that they be extirpated, along with the whole of their passions, in order to be virtuous men of knowledge. However, their entire endeavour is merely a way of sublimating their bodily lusts in a different fashion – by draping them in scholasticism. It is a weapon and tool for their inferiority and feebleness, a mask and masquerade. “Desiring separation from their own bodily grounds,” Lampert explains, “their spirits reinterpret the earth as a place congenial only to spirit.” This can well be paralleled with aphorism 352 of The Gay Science, where Nietzsche propounds that the person who needs this moral attire the most, is not the barbaric type, but the weak “herd animal with its profound mediocrity, timidity, and boredom with itself,” who then uses morality to appear justified and “divine.”

However, according to Lampert, this section becomes an assault on modern technology, and the barrenness of the moon refers to the emptiness and nihilism it has left in its path across the earth. The sham of the labour spoken of in the beginning, is the failure of this new technological era to really produce anything of real value by Zarathustra’s very high standards of ascension and life-affirmation, and it is to be eclipsed by the posterity represented by Zarathustra’s rising sun. It is the rising sun of a new age, and is the rival of these morbid men of the moon, who lack true spirit, but are rather fuelled by the spirit of self-annihilation and the will-to-nothingness. Their will-to-the-end and hostile will-to-impotence is to be overcome by the fertility of this new sun, that is, this new age of generations to come, and the barrenness of their moon to be finally defeated by this fertility, which is so profound and overwhelming that it sucks up the earth and the sea into its spiritual height. That is, the world is to be shaped by a new standard – a standard of overcoming and an impassioned, Dionysian love of life. Hence Nietzsche’s concluding words in Daybreak:

“And whither then would we go? Would we cross the sea? Whither does this mighty longing draw us, this longing that is worth more to us than any pleasure? Why just in this direction, thither where all the suns of humanity have hitherto gone down? Will it perhaps be said of us one day that we too, steering westward, hoped to reach India - but that it was our fate to be wrecked against infinity? Or, my brothers. Or? –“

First MA Presentation on Thus Spoke Zarathustra

2011-03-18T18:30:00.000-07:00

The first section of Upon the Blessed Isles could be referring to Nietzsche’s task of cleansing the world of monotheistic dogmatism, for he is a wind from the North, which could be referring to him being Nordic, and the figs could be referring to the desert religions, because of the popularity of figs and dried figs in Middle-Eastern culture. Then Nietzsche makes much of the beautiful surroundings of the earth, the sky, the sea and the seasons in order to introduce through all of this the overman, whom is a person that is grounded and centred within the earth and worldliness. And because the overman brings so much promise with him, Lampert explains that, despite how beautiful and fruitful the present may be, and no matter how ripe life and Zarathustra’s new philosophy are for the taking, his disciples “are to gaze into a distant future, to the still more abundant time of the superman.” In fact, Zarathustra says that “into fathers and forefathers of the overman” can his disciples re-create themselves, and he demands that it be the best of all their creations.

God is something merely presupposed, according to Zarathustra, which, even if false, isn’t necessarily, at least not here, what he condemns in it. The problem is that a god would be something beyond one’s creative will, and since no one can actually create a god, Zarathustra says, “do not speak to me of any gods.” However, the overman can be created and striven for, and he is something (perhaps merely a construct) which is the dominating theme of this section of the book. In fact, according to Lampert, the goal of the overman “is incompatible with any teaching of God or gods,” and theism is a “temptation to which his disciples” have fallen prey to. The problem is that God stifles creativity, whereas the overman livens and inspires it. He is an invigorating source of one’s creative will to power. Lampert seems to be reaching, however, when he states that the overman is the inevitable outcome of the will to truth, whereas gods cannot be. For Nietzsche, the will to truth is the human need for metaphysics, and it often shows itself in human-all-too-human beliefs and ventures that are quite untrue and frivolous. He spawned much critique of the will to truth, which in The Gay Science he associates with a curious will to death. Zarathustra gives a normative claim as to what the will to truth ought to be: “that everything be changed into what is thinkable for man, visible for man, feelable by man. You should think through your own senses to their consequences.” This is the demand that the desire for the truth not be for the extra-worldly and unattainable, which can only be achieved through pure contemplation, as with the permanence of Parmenides and the forms of Plato, but rather be directed towards the possible, the real and the achievable. He tells his followers, “And what you have called world, that shall be created only by you: your reason, your image, your will, your love shall thus be realized. And verily, for your own bliss, you lovers of knowledge.” This means that not only are they to be courageous in the face of reality, unlike Plato, who, as Nietzsche says in Twilight of the Idols, was a coward in the face of reality and so hid in the ideal, but also that they are to affirm and shape reality and life through their creativity and, hence, self-cultivation. They are to use knowledge as a tool and key to unlock joy and the exuberance of an ever-expanding horizon. All this, will, then, in turn, give them mastery over themselves and the earth, and the happiness of a fulfilled, consummated life and perspective. Meaning, what Zarathustra is offering them here is self-empowerment and honest, prolific fulfillment through the embrace of realism, nature and earthliness. For Nietzsche, a true lover of knowledge would not want things to be any other way, for life would otherwise be unbearable for him. A true lover of knowledge cannot tolerate the incomprehensible or irrational.

As for the existence of the gods, the very fact that Zarathustra could not be one has him negate the possibility of their existence altogether, for he could not tolerate not being able to reach the highest of heights. This, says Lampert, exemplifies Zarathustra’s yearning, which “points to” his heart’s “ruling love of victory.” It is “a rivalry that would be unbearable if such rivals existed.” For Lampert, there is a direct link between Nietzsche’s attack on the gods and his exaltation of man; for “having once drawn the conclusion that no gods exist, a victory-loving man governed by the will to truth is drawn by the conclusion that man is the highest being and the creative thinker the highest man,” and for a person such as this, “the highest thinkable victory must be seen as possible, the whole world must be seen as potentially at his disposal.” This, of course, brings us back to Nietzsche’s realism, his earth-centred will-to-power, and his vision of ascending towards the greatest of all achievements, the overman.

Nietzsche then explicitly attacks Platonic and theistic notions of permanence. He says that “God is a thought that makes crooked all that is straight, and makes turn whatever stands.” His Zarathustra asks, “Should time be gone, and all that is impermanent a mere lie?” That is, to think of this world as being a mere appearance of something far more profound and transcendent is the inversion of reality, and the centering of a person’s gravity towards the unreal, the idealistic and the anti-naturalistic. He calls such thinking evil and misanthropic, for it poisons people by convincing them that this world and this life are not to be affirmed but denied for another one, and implies at the end that this metaphysical, ethereal way of thinking is to be blamed on the poets who couldn’t handle reality as it is, and so had to make up a great beyond to negate it. Zarathustra protests this and demands that all parables praise and justify all impermanence. Lampert puts emphasis on the fear of death as being the sole reason that this otherworldliness had to be invented by the poets and sustained by their fabricated gods in the first place. “The creativity of the poets who attribute the world to the creativity of gods,” says Lampert, “is to be replaced by the creativity of men who know themselves to be creating a human world.” Zarathustra praises our fleeting, mortal lives, and calls for a poetry that would “celebrate and reflect the creative life that is itself a series of deaths and transformations,” hence why he states, “that the creator may be, suffering is needed and much change. Indeed, there must be much bitter dying in your life, you creators.” The creating and shaping of the beautiful “in the celebration of mortal things seems to be” Zarathustra’s preferred response to the oppressive, looming fear of death, according to Lampert. Zarathustra explains that creation is the great redeemer of suffering and nihilistic feelings of life’s meaninglessness. This is what justifies all impermanence. He likens the creator, or artist, to a woman in labour, and speaks of “the pangs of the birth-giver,” which is Nietzsche’s metaphorical and poetic likening of labour pains to the suffering of, and eventual pangs within, the artist in creating, or being led to create, something new and life-enhancing, hence why he likens the artistic creation to a “child who is newly born.”

What is unique about Zarathustra is that his fervent will of creating is impelled towards men as the sculpture’s hammer is impelled toward stone. In shaping men with a hammer he aims to bring the overman out of them - for the overman is a mere shadow now - and this, to him, is the greatest creation and gift he could ever give to mankind, as both an artist and philosopher. This kind of willing, Nietzsche feels, is his ultimate liberation, as willing itself, we are told, is something liberating, and this is, as far as I can see, a praise of art as a catalyst towards self-emancipation. “Whatever in me has feeling,” says Zarathustra, “suffers and is in prison; but my will always comes to me as my liberator and joy-bringer.” That is, he is set free through his philosophical, artistic endeavours. They are his passion, and he is compelled from within himself to fulfill this ardour of his. In this way, it is released into the world of people, and for him, this is truly a beautiful, life-affirming expression of his will to power. To will no more and esteem no longer, however, are things that Nietzsche sincerely wants to stay far away from him, for such a way of being is a nihilistic expression of bodily and world-weariness and the embrace of nothingness – it is the will to nothingness, and it is something that a free spirit wants no part of. For his disciples to become bridges to the overman, they must free the will imprisoned inside them. And now that he has discovered the very notion of the overman – a being so great, prolific and profound – he asks, “O my brothers, what are the gods to me now?”

FEMINISM = THE NEW CHRISTIANITY

2010-12-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

Almost two months ago, I replied to this RIDICULOUS, anti-male-libidinous, anti-natural, biology-loathing, down-right-hateful, irrational and illogical feminist RANT, which I suggest you read, in order to understand what I'm so unrelentingly and loudly responding to below:

Ye Olde "Boys Will Be Boys" Plea:

After two months of it saying "Your comment is awaiting moderation" I know that the blogger doesn't have the backbone or intellectual honesty to allow it, so I'm putting it here instead:

Excuse me? Richard Roeper is just as bad as boorish construction workers who yell misogynistic, annoying, harassing things at you as you walk by minding your own business? How do you figure? That quote of his up there is his view on what most men care to see when looking through such magazines as Glamour and Vogue, and, frankly, I agree. What I take offense to is him calling it sexist, like an ingratiating coward, at the end. His statement actually sounds quite realistic. Why else would they look through such magazines as those, unless they were trans-gendered (nothing wrong with that)? And where do you get the effrontery in comparing him to sleazy perverts that approach you with offensive requests on subways?! What are you talking about?! You just SLANDERED the man!

And in regard to the quote itself, which you hate so much and call “degrading,” I have to ask: would you care to see a lineup of obese, hairy men wearing nothing but briefs on a poster in the subway? That wouldn’t be inappropriate and grotesque to you? It sure would be to me, and I don’t think either of us should be most unfairly called sexist or mean for feeling that way. Taking the subway in the morning is bad enough without being surrounded by half-naked, unattractive people. At least on television you can change the channel, for Pete sakes. And, no, such comments are NOT naturalized in our culture anymore. Guys get their heads bitten off for saying MUCH less than he does there, believe me. And more and more do I witness and hear of guys agreeing with extreme feminists on such issues of sex and sexuality, either because they’re attracted to them and want to get on their good side, or just because they’ve become ashamed of being attracted to women of a certain physique, and/or for their biological urges of – dare I say it? – seed-spreading in general that radical feminists hate so much, and wish to tyrannize over with their contemptuous, anti-libidinous ideals. The reason being is that, most unfortunately, and most frighteningly, radical feminism has become mainstream feminism, and, I fear, worst of all – the new Christianity.

What a lousy blog!

Aaaaah, that feels better. If that's what feminism is all about now - an expression of insecurity by women who don't feel that they fit the mold of what men find most attractive, and so lash out against them by throwing shame on their biological urges and the preferences and inclinations of their sexual prowess - then FUCK FEMINISM! It is no better than any foul dogma. It carries with it everything that is wrong with Christian doctrine, for it is puritanical in nature and stems from resentment. And for the record, I always hated the expression "boys will be boys" too. For it demeans and degrades men as being mere children because of their instinctual, sexual urges, and if that isn't sexist, then the word "sexist" has no meaning. The proper saying should be, "MEN WILL BE MEN!" And no amount of heavy-handed feminist preaching, and ostentatious, disingenuous outrage and filthifying is going to change that. Christina Aguilera is hot, Rosie O'donnell is NOT. Megan Fox is hot, Queen Latifah is NOT. (Unless, of course, the guy has a fetish for obesity, which would make him the exception, not the norm). And that's ALL...there IS...TO IT! This isn't the 17th Century anymore, and there is no going back! And even if we did, that would STILL entail a preference of physicality.

And fuck Marxism, too! It doesn't work in reality and the 20th Century, and North Korea today, are proof of that. The Communist Manifesto, though quite economically sound and moral, gives way too much power to politicians, who, for the most part, are parasitic scum. Marx had no foresight. Marxists play a serious game of cognitive dissonance, just like religionists do. They're in a perpetual state of denial. I don't know about you, but I don't wanna live in an Orwellian world. I just thought that I'd add this last part in, because it's been bugging me ever since I took Marx, Marxism and Post-Marxism almost 2 years ago. You see, it's not so much Marxism that I have a problem with, which looks good on paper, but rather Marxists, who should know better, but try their hardest not to.

"Faith means the will to avoid knowing what is true." - Nietzsche

Take care.

An Oldie for the Blahs

2010-11-04T13:16:00.000-07:00

November from Now On

Such a profound November. Yet a month I used to dread. But it’s so enchanting. So alluring. It’s amazing how I’ve changed. The benediction of the ultimate acceptance of reality. Not only the acknowledgement, but the embrace of the amoral and dark force in nature. That force being nature itself. A force I revel in. A force my spirit dances in.

It’s a beautiful transformation when a free-spirit, such as myself, realizes and admits to himself that if God exists, he is the father all evil. November blahs go right out the window. Now I only find the melancholy of its grey and blue skies sublime, soothing, truthful, and benevolent. No matter how cold it may get, it makes me feel so warm. So whole. A part of a whole.

The much welcome change into the antithesis of my former apprehension was evident this time last year, but is at full, sublime force and bloom now; just like November (this month I used to despise) always has been and always will be, whether one likes it or not. But what does this mean? It is a not so mere metaphor for how silly, dishonest, and self-alienating idealizing (in its perpetual and unconscious state) is in the face of reality. As if accepting reality and life for what they are is abnegation! The opposite of such cowardice-manipulation is most certainly where one may find the truth. That is, of course, if they have the stomach for it. Look now: I rid myself, once and for all, of all the cowardly untruthfulness of idealism and instead of becoming depressed by the blunt, harsh, gloomy honesty of this month, I now fully delight in it. Like I delight in life. My life. All mine.

I have no delusions to be crushed by. For delusions are so easily shattered and squashed. Entropy, calamity, chaos: these are the true gods of the universe. Unconscious, callous, overtly heartless gods. Prayers don’t come true because they (these terrible three) don’t have ears to hear them with. You must make them come true on your own. Accepting all this aforesaid realism (this true connection with reality) brings us to the embrace of the essence of being and chance. In this way we feel no other option or greater justice than affirming our lives. Seeing all the past as the necessity which led us to the necessary and beloved present, to the rich and relentless here and now. All this is the love of fate.

In this way you will never again be dismayed by the sight of a barren, leafless tree under a grey November sky. You will see in it only beauty, splendor, right, and truth.

May the scales fall from your eyes.

11/11/06

Still Blossoming Dawn

2010-07-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

I wrote this poem on the 20th of the month, the day before leaving to Cuba for a week, and three years to the day from when I wrote Blossoming Dawn, which you can find here, and should read, in order to understand what I'm responding to: http://rayme-michaels.blogspot.com/2009/04/blossoming-dawn.html I wrote that shortly before starting at York, where I just finished a 4-year Honours BA in 3-years time, and was EXTREMELY excited and joyful to be beginning my new life, as I am now, on the brink of starting my Philosophy MA in September. I was on break at a place I was temping at. I crossed the small street and sat cross-legged on the grass in front of what I called a "semi-creek" and wrote away, pouring my exuberant heart out into my black notebook that I love so much. I wrote the following, with much suitable and pleasant irony, in front of the York Pond, which is behind the York campus, and across the street from where my convocation was held.

Still Blossoming Dawn

July 20, 2010

Again I sit by a larger pond of a creek,

The time was, indeed, ripe to have my speak,

With regard to this flourishing autumn still strong,

Life has been, O, so good!

I’ve tasted much nectar and produced much fruit, in what I’ve read, written and done,

Praise and thanks be to all the joy, sights, laughter, power, love, ardour, people and fun!

This dawning sun is still shining strong,

My orange clouds are yet to set,

Despite all demons, my heart is still filled with ease and peace,

And I know that things are nowhere near done yet.

Friends I’ve made, and foes I’ve squashed, as I blossom on,

I’ve earned my right to shine this crown – in my summer’s dawn.

What Art Can Never Be or Do

2010-07-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

One thing art can never be is a negation. It can nullify nothing. No matter how shocking, frightful or abhorrent one may find it, it can only be an affirmation of life and of that which peaks through it. If a tragedy, say by Sophocles, brings an entire audience, men and women, to tears, it still remains in the positive. For it has opened up the spectators to life (as long as they have allowed it to). Indeed, their tears are evidence enough of this. Through any piece of artwork – be it a play, a poem, a song, a painting, a movie, a sculpture, etc. – life is opened up through it to the observers or witnesses, and they are in turn opened up to life through it. For this reason, art can only be an affirmation of life and reality, no matter how abstract or surreal a given piece may be. Now in this standard case that I have given, it surely makes the people enthralled feel, and, in that way, it consummates them with life and existence itself, for it gives them a taste of its miseries and sufferings in a ferocious gulp. But let us now put this thesis of art’s inability to negate or be purely negative in the context of the shocking, offensive brand of artwork.

Let us say that we have before us a painting where, at the centre, there stands Adolf Hitler, on a stage – with a halo around his head. Before him stands an enormous pile of human bones and ashes, which he is elevated over. His arms are stretched downwards to the front of him wide open, with eyes directed towards heaven, along with his palms, which are slightly upturned, all as if to give thanks to God, with a look that says, “Thy will be done, Master, for I – am your messenger and prophet. – Mankind’s true Saviour and final Redeemer.” Is this painting in poor taste? Of course. Is it ghastly? Indeed. But does it contribute nothing at all? Certainly not! For it opens us up, with ever greater clarity, to the diseased, depraved mind which produced such a morbid display, or, if it is just another piece of dark, post-modern irony, then at least to the mind of which it expresses and warns of – the mind of the Nazi and Hitler himself. For this reason, with all its negativity, it still carries with it the positivity of truth, which only art can bear (and bare) and encompass, and in all its disturbing affects, negates and/or nullifies nothing. A perspective and deep-seated, abysmal world-view has been realized, and for that alone the artwork is worthy of praise. For that reason alone, its positive character cannot be denied.

And now for the million-dollar question: “Is all art, no matter how ridiculous, positive, then? Does anything declared to be a piece of artwork ‘open one up to life, and life up to the person?’ What about shit on a stick? Does that contain any positivity to it? If so, do tell!” Good question! I like it. I shall indeed oblige, as it is only fair to want to know what could possibly redeem such a display of “art.” And the point will once again be shown that no matter how puerile, “bad” or “shoddy” it may be, an “artwork” is not, and cannot, be a nullification. Even such a vacuous thing as shit on a stick, presented in its glass casing for show at some godforsaken museum, would have its eye-opening aspect to it, and, hence, the dung on a twig, put on display for all to see, would, indeed, contain a fragment of something positive, something truthful. Like all art, it cannot be purely negative, no matter how ugly and grotesque it may seem. For (in this case) it has opened up those who have seen it, and even heard of it, to how desperate some so-called artists are in attracting attention to themselves, and whose egos are so impoverished as starving artists, that they will put out there in the awaiting world the most basest of expressions, in order to have some effect (or affect) on the minds of others. A pathetic expression of will-to-power and a being-in-the-world. Such a sad person would now be opened to the world for existential consideration, even though there would be nothing at all, artistically speaking, to consider in the “abstract” itself. Not to mention, we would have a better idea of what kind of committee such a museum would have as its regulative body. We would be one step closer to answering the infamously rhetorical and undying query, “What’s this world coming to?”

Some Jazz

2010-06-18T15:55:00.000-07:00

I went to a jazz bar last Sunday night that I'd never been to before. The band was incredible! And, as I was hoping, I was inspired. Though I often feel inspired. I hadn't written anything in a while, so I - without thinking much about rhyme-scheme (quite a change for me), word-structure or phrasing - started writing down, with mad speed and a streaming consciousness, the following. I didn't even care to give it a title. Very strange for me. I think I'll call it - The Need:

The need to find a connection,

The need to find a muse.

The gladness to find a location,

A place to suck and use.

These surroundings I need,

To some creativity to concede,

Too long without dispersing writ,

I love jazz.

Solos, tunes and notes,

A stream-of-consciousness rarity for moi,

Stop and clap,

Now a drum solo, like an unrelenting, mad beat of my heart while I fuck this adorable waitress that's been serving me.

I fucking love jazz.

This is no Sunday-night blahs,

Nor a June bug bitching,

More like swarms flying into my skull,

Oh, the obsessive thoughts!

A summer of languor,

Going by so fast.

To take it, or have it take me...away?...so lame...

So empty.

Can't help but love life,

To fall down before it...to give it my all,

I care not now for a rhyme,

Now the sax chimes.

So beautiful, like the ever-flowing, yet static, needs of my soul,

Play on, play on great men,

Move me, I need movement,

I need my ardour to be morphed into something...

Something special, but what?

Such a horrid, clashing feeling of wanting to do so much, yet so easily embracing sloth,

To be and not be me at the same time...

What fucking gives?

Just like this oscillation between poetry and prose.

Is something wrong?

Intertwined with a guitar solo like this, everything seems so fine.

And now this killer sax...

I love...love jazz...

I went back there again last night, and this other band just blew everyone, including myself, the fuck away! Such musicianship. They were really loud, too, and I was reading Kierkegaard's Either/Or (1843), something I've been slogging through this Spring, because of how boring and pointless most of it is, which is a shame, because it started off so great, and I was able to get through more of it than I would have in my quiet room in this quiet house, within that same time-period. So then I came across a few lines in a paragraph that truly smacked of both coincidence and irony, and to me of, well, something I've been noticing about myself, and what calms the intrusive thoughts, due to my PTSD, which make reading (no matter how interesting) all the more difficult:

"You know there are neurasthenics who are disturbed by the slightest noise, who are unable to think when someone walks softly over the floor. Have you noticed that there is also another kind of neurasthenia? There are people so weak that they need proper noise and distracting surroundings to be able to work. Why if not because they have no command over themselves, only in an inverse sense? When they are alone, their thoughts disappear in the indefinite; on the other hand, when noise and hubbub surround them, this compels them to pit their will against it." - Soren Kierkegaard

I have never heard this term, "neurasthenia," before (mainly, I think, because it's no longer in scientific use). But what I know for certain, is that I am, indeed, a combination of both the former and latter type of whom he speaks of here. I need complete silence to concentrate even remotely, and cannot handle people even whispering and walking softly around me (let alone conversing loudly), but "proper noise," as Kierkegaard astutely refers to it here, like loud, fabulous music, will lock my concentration and will-power on what I have to read through like nothing else. And existentially speaking - and this book is foundational for existentialism - it's so magically perfect that as I was realizing all this about myself within the situation itself last night, I came across a few lines, within a very thick book, that elucidated it for me. Beautiful! Amor fati, Nietzsche would call it. - The love of fate.

Final Preliminary Hermeneutic for Early Existentialism

2010-03-27T23:39:00.000-07:00

This will be a preliminary hermeneutic of note 1052 of The Will to Power. What we find here is one of Nietzsche’s greatest dichotomies: “Dionysus and the Crucified.” They represent two types of people. Both of these types are “religious” types, though antithetical to each other in their piety. The former is the pagan, and the latter is the Christian. Dionysus represents “a form of thanksgiving and affirmation of life,” whereas, Christ dead (or dying) on the Cross, represents “an objection to this life, as a formula for its condemnation.” The dichotomy is hence one of life-affirmation (the enhancement of life) versus life-abnegation (the denial of life). Nietzsche uses this antithesis to get to the psychology behind both of them, especially the hidden meaning behind the Crucifix, because the influence of its religiosity has been far too great, and, for Nietzsche, far too fascinating, to be ignored. The meaning of both ends up to be the expression of either strength (as with Dionysus) or weakness (as with the “Crucified”). The former is an abundance of vitality and strength to the point where no matter how much hardship the Dionysian spirit comes into contact with, life is perpetually affirmed, embraced and celebrated with an exuberant soul. This is amor fati: the love of fate.

Because “life itself” reoccurs in all “its eternal fruitfulness,” the Dionysian spirit feels him/herself affirmed within it, as within a whole, in which everything is a part of that whole as what must be, and so feels whole – feels complete. And so the Dionysian revels in life, with all its “torment, destruction,” and perpetual “will to annihilation.” The Dionysian’s inexorable exuberance of spirit demands this. All suffering can be for it is the constant tweaking and sedimentary use of it through creativity and destruction (even creativity in destruction). This is the joy of such a spirit (indeed life cannot help but be a joy for such a spirit). It is its overflowing will-to-power. And if such a type is not satisfied with meanings given to him or her from the outside, then (s)he creates new meanings, and justifies the whole of life through them, until the time comes to even destroy them, and create newer, even more profound meanings and values, and uses them to enter a new life-affirming stage. Perhaps they are even the expression of that new, wondrous stage, whatever it may be. Life is the Dionysian’s journey and adventure to be had. Hence, Dionysus represents the glorification and exaltation of life.

And then, on the antipodal side of this, with all its morbidity and castration of life, is the Crucifix: the glorification and exaltation of death, misery and suffering, and not as a justification of them in life, but as a confounding and eternal charge against life. People wear this symbol around their necks. But would they wear an aborted foetus around their neck? Would they nail one on top of their doorstep so it can bless them as they walk in and out of their home? Of course not. But the Crucifix is an abortion, where God has his son sadistically brought to his death. Comedian and social critic Lenny Bruce most astutely quipped in the 1960s that “If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.” “One will see,” Nietzsche says, “that the problem is that of the meaning of suffering.” Here, as the innocent writhes in pain on two slabs of wood, suffering is no longer affirmed, it becomes a weapon, and through it the type of life-sapped weakling, whom is exalted by this imagery, has a nihilistic mouthpiece, which says that all of life is nothing but suffering, and even denies joy as something that can only lead to more suffering, instead of the inverse of this, which is played out by the Dionysian. In this way, the only thing this paltry image justifies is its type’s incapacity to feel the joy of life, and, hence, his/her sloth, hypocrisy and cowardice in refusing to even try and justify it.

“The Christian,” whom Nietzsche believed to be a world-weary calumniator of the earth, “denies even the happiest lot on earth: he is sufficiently weak, poor, disinherited to suffer from life in whatever form he meets it,” even if that be joy and happiness. His constitution is too weak and fragile to handle it, as with any other potency which life may come in. The Dionysian, on the other hand, is a person of eternally durable, sound, self-empowered constitution, which can not only handle such potencies of life, in whatever form they may come, but embraces them, and affirms him/herself, and all the contingencies of life, through them and his/her actions. There is no being overwhelmed for the Dionysian. This is why Nietzsche writes that “the god on the cross is a curse on life, a signpost to seek redemption from life; Dionysus cut to pieces is a promise of life: it will be eternally reborn and return again from destruction.” That is, such a spirit lives as if each moment - is for eternity.

(First) Preliminary-Hermeneutic Presentation on Heidegger (April 2009)

2010-03-07T12:46:00.000-08:00

This preliminary hermeneutic will be an attempt to gain clarity, and a more concise understanding of paragraph one of page 163 of our text of Being and Time. What Heidegger offers us here is the problem and dilemma of empathy, and its association with Dasein and Being-with-one-another. He says that “the special hermeneutic of empathy will have to show how Being-with-one-another and Dasein’s knowing of itself are led astray and obstructed by the various possibilities of Being which Dasein itself possesses so that a genuine ‘understanding’ gets suppressed and Dasein takes refuge in substitutes.” This is one of many of Heidegger’s calls for authenticity. In better understanding the subtle expressions and instances of empathy we may come to a better understanding as to why and how it is that we mask ourselves with so much conviction towards others and even to our own eyes. However, the question is then: why empathy as the bridge to reach this goal of understanding?

In the previous paragraph he wrote that “only on the basis of Being-with does ‘empathy’ become possible: it gets its motivation from the unsociability of the dominant modes of Being-with.” That is, empathy can only show its kind smile, in the muck and swamp of human disingenuousness and callousness, which is human interaction with subjects for the most part. Especially when others are treated as mere “subjects,” or “numerals,” as Heidegger puts it. One could easily get the idea that perhaps all this talk of “Others” is a direct precursor to Sartre’s famous, dark words in No Exit: “Hell is other people.” But I digress. The point is that to suddenly feel empathy is to allow one’s Being-with to be a vulnerable state and openness towards others. It is also a break and relaxation from the frivolous expending of Dasein’s energy on Being-with-one-another as something other than oneself, and in convincing oneself that this inauthentic display and phoniness is actually the real self – the real Being of one’s self.

In coming to know why empathy is suddenly felt, we may come to know what the instances are to bring about this species of feeling, and why, for the most part, we have a sense of selfish apathy towards others to the point where we have to fog our constant inward glance, so that we see a person other than the one we actually are. For the actual image of ourselves could very well be a revolting sight to our very Dasein if it stood there bare, clad in nothing but clarity. He states that “the possibility of understanding the stranger correctly presupposes such a hermeneutic as its positive existential condition.” Meaning, the legitimate and honest-eyed taking of this task is also a will-to-authenticity and embrace of the Being-with and Dasein-with of another. In this way, a positive, genuine Being-with-one-another can be achieved, and in the process, our actual Being can possibly be realized.

All this coupled with his further claim that “so far as Dasein is at all, it has Being-with-one-another as its kind of Being” reminds me a great deal of the arguments for existentialism, ethics and freedom laid forth by Simone De Beauvoir in The Ethics of Ambiguity, that isolation of any kind is counter to freedom and is in fact a form of slavery. We need others to feel and truly experience our freedom. In the ebb and flow of our reactions between each other - in the gifts, benevolence and echoes of truth we grant each other - we are truly free. “To will oneself free is also to will others free,” she said. Our very presence grants people the ability to choose how to manoeuvre and exist around us. Without others and objects there is no choice to be made and, therefore, no actual liberty of movement and reaction. We cannot act on our freedom if there is nothing to express it for and fulfill it with. She explains that being imprisoned is the worst kind of punishment because one merely exists, and cannot contribute to an outside world. The prisoner lives only as a “for-itself.”

And so with Heidegger, an “‘inconsiderate’ Being-with ‘reckons’ with the Others without seriously ‘counting on them’, or without even wanting to ‘have anything to do’ with them.” Yet, as he warns in the following paragraph, “One’s own Dasein, like the Dasein-with of Others, is encountered proximally and for the most part in terms of the with-world with which we are environmentally concerned.” And so, in a life without a concern for the world or the people around us, or even a life in complete isolation, for that matter, we offer our Dasein no assistance whatsoever in knowing, finding or understanding our essence, our Being. The Being of our Dasein, therefore, becomes the sham and facade of a base, shallow, inauthentic existence.

My Preliminary-Hermeneutic Presentation on Merleau-Ponty (Existence and Sexuality)

2010-03-03T16:56:00.000-08:00

This will be a preliminary-hermeneutic of page 169 of our translation of Phenomenology of Perception. Here, Merleau-Ponty explains that sexuality “can underlie and guide specified forms of” our experience, “without being the object of any intended act of consciousness.” This makes sexuality “co-extensive with life.” Meaning, it is so heavily and richly intertwined with human actions and lifestyles, that ambiguity is, in fact, “the essence of human existence,” granting the dynamically colourful nature of “everything we live or think,” hence our lives always having “several meanings.” It is for this reason that it is impossible to untie the two – existence and sexuality – in order to understand the preconscious sexual undertones of any given situation, making a purely Freudian attempt quite futile. All of our human motives and motility could be “perhaps a generalized expression of a certain state of sexuality,” which makes figuring out the precise source of “so many rationally based decisions” impossible for seeing where one begins and one ends, for the simple reason that it is not merely about one beginning and one ending. They are both concomitantly working together as sublimated sexuality by virtue of being in the world.

“The framework of sexuality” and “the framework of existence,” due to being “so loaded with the passage of time,” have become completely inextricable. As Merleau-Ponty puts it, “There is an interfusion between sexuality and existence, which means that existence permeates sexuality and vice versa, so that it is impossible to determine, in a given decision or action, the proportion of sexual to other motivations, impossible to label a decision or act ‘sexual ‘or ‘non-sexual’.” Hence the hidden acts of sexuality when walking to our car, when riding a bicycle, when going grocery shopping, when buying a movie ticket, when catching a Frisbee and the possibility of having a preconscious orgasm when we finish washing the dishes. “The fact remains that this existence is the act of taking up and making explicit a sexual situation, and that in this way it has always at least a double sense.”

This could, in fact, make sense within a lock-and-key understanding of what Merleau-Ponty is trying to say. It makes sense within his philosophical framework of phenomenology that our sexuality be, in fact, located not only throughout our very limbs, but also in the things we encounter in our day-to-day lives. They are what bring out our “sexuality” in its generalized form. They unlock a specific amount and type of our sexuality in a given, particular scenario, in a way that no other particularity could at that moment or with another person. The experience becomes the key to unlocking a specific, transformed sexual movement. Hence why a given person’s sexual energy might be more vibrant when going to see a travel agent, than when going to a job interview for a job he or she has no desire of being employed in. The way we bend our arm to go for a glass of wine could be sexually charged quite differently than the way we bend it for a glass of grape juice. However, to say it again, we have no way of determining which act has more sexual content in it than another.

This sublimation of our sexuality by our very existence, Merleau-Ponty calls “transcendence,” and is a “tension which is essential to it” – existence, that is. An asexual drive, then, would be the essence of a very different type of existence than a sexually driven one. Our sexuality must, then, be one of the forming factors of our habits, and part of the fixation which expels itself through them with subtle variability in different moments throughout our lives. However, with or without habits, the sexual fixation is always there. Except, it is not that it is behind our thoughts, it is our thoughts, irrelevant that they may not be explicitly, or even implicitly, sexual in nature. And it cannot be determined how our sexuality will expel itself in our daily lives, based on how it might have in the past, due 1) to the fact that we do not know exactly how it has done so in the first place, as our sexuality has been so finely fused with us as a whole, and 2) to the indeterminacy of existence itself.

Second Preliminary Hermeneutic on Nietzsche's Zarathustra

2010-02-25T16:38:00.000-08:00

This preliminary-hermeneutic will be an analysis of half of page 207 of Walter Kaufmann’s Portable Nietzsche, which is a section of On the Virtuous of Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Here, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra rails at the hypocrisy, ostentation and disingenuousness so commonly found behind words, acts and demands of virtue. In the second indented paragraph, one can easily think of both mild and extreme examples – both common, both offensive. In the extreme case, one might recall the madness of September 11, 2001, where nineteen hijackers, so “proud of their handful of justice and,” so ready to “commit outrages against all things for its sake,” killed nearly 3,000 people, in the name of what they deemed holy, righteous and true. “Oh, how ill the word virtue comes out of their mouths! And when they say, ‘I am just,’ it always sounds like ‘I am just – revenged.’” For a milder case, we could look at instances of history and the present that, though not life and death matters in the literal sense, are, in fact, anti-life and a trampling over the liberties of others. For example, the monopoly and demand by the Church in the Middle Ages that all art be Christian art, outlawing all the rest and deeming it heresy; or, as another example, the burning of books and banning of plays by puritans. Not to mention, in the more extreme case, the torture and burning of men and women, who dared question the moral authority of the Church, or whose views did not fit into its orthodox, narrow interpretations of the Bible.

And we can, most certainly, look at the present for more examples, and see the phenomenon of creationism and its adherents in the United States, who use the judicial system to ban the teaching of evolution by natural selection in the public school system, and/or, depending on the city or State, hope to implement a course on “Intelligent Design” to be taught as a prerequisite for attaining a high school diploma. This is their justice, and woe to he who dares stand in their way, because, as with the other examples, “With their virtue they want to scratch out the eyes of their enemies, and they exalt themselves only to humble others.” That is, they use obnoxious morality, and what they call justice, to condemn and look down their noses at others, in order to then feel better about themselves in gaining a superficial, fictitious feeling of superiority over them. Meaning, their so-called virtue is not a virtue at all, but a weapon. However, Zarathustra sees that they are, in fact, morally superior to no one, and are painfully transparent to him in their dogmatic, self-serving ways. Their “virtue” and “justice” are only the exaltation of ways they can be deemed virtuous, by attacking any opposing virtue, way of thinking, or way of life. It is an expression of their militant but petty and pathetic will to power, and it is nihilistic, because it demands complacency, and a refusal to both question their so-called virtuousness and justice, and to evolve to see the infinite limits of human existence and individuality. It is the inexorable demand for stagnation, and with it “the world is drowned in [and suffocated by] their injustice.”

And at the opposite end, Nietzsche writes of those to whom virtue is merely “‘sitting still in a swamp. We bite no one and avoid those who want to bite; and in all things we hold the opinion that is given to us,’” they sadly and apathetically say. This is to mean that virtue to them is simply not getting in people’s faces, and avoiding conflict. But worse than that, like drones, they accept the opinions of others as granted, instead of questioning them and weighing them out against existence and their lives to see if there is any truth in them. It is more nihilism, just a quieter form of it; one that does not make the news, though it is arguably just as dangerous for Nietzsche. “And then again there are such as love gestures and think that virtue is some kind of gesture,” Zarathustra remorsefully adds. This can be tied into those whom he speaks of in Part 1 as “the flies in the market place.” Be they the grand, ostentatious gestures and fine words of politicians or religious leaders, either way, people eat them up. They swallow them whole. It is quite shocking now, decades later, to see clips of loud, eloquent speeches by Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin, where they lecture the immense crowds on how people must be peace-loving! Such a thing should be both risible and abhorrent coming from the mouths of such megalomaniacal men as these. But the people cheered and roared in admiration and idolatry for their mass-murdering, yet so proud, leader(s), and the feelings of virtue, justice and, hence, good conscience, that they instilled in them. They applauded as a herd releasing their lowly will to power. They still do.

Disproving God - No Sweat!! ;)

2010-02-12T21:41:00.000-08:00

When I finally wrote out this argument back in July of '08, it had been something I'd been wanting to put down on paper for quite some time. And with it being Valentine's Day Weekend, I thought I'd make it red, being as it is my favourite colour, and 'cause I'm a sentimental guy. :) It always makes me shake my head when I hear a theist say that “God exists outside of time.” As if time is a fucking bubble you can jump in and out of. Such monstrous nonsense! - Mainly because it is being claimed about a living being. (I will explain why shortly). Their claim is often coupled with their rhetorical question, “how can something come from nothing?” But this is a straw-man, to be sure, for whoever said it did, outside of conjecture? It was never claimed as a scientific theory that the universe came out of nothing. Time began at the Big Bang, and to put it more precisely, the Big Bang is the shifting of time and energy. It is also the expansion of the black matter of space; something which is still expanding as you read this, and will continue to for quite some time. At the time of the Big Bang, all that existed were energy and elementary particles. In a televised conversation with Carl Sagan, Arthur C. Clarke, and journalist Magnus Magnusson back in 1988, Stephen Hawking actually refers to a "before the Big Bang," in the same paradoxical sentence that he states that time began at the Big Bang, which is very perplexing, but understandable, since we are so often confined to verbal language: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6O9cYTZXekA. (Thank Dog for YouTube). Anyway, if time had not yet existed, they (energy and those elementary particles) are what would have existed “outside of time,” if anything ever did exist in this abstract, non-rational way. Meaning, it can be inferred from this alone, that something always existed, and never nothing. Putting God in the picture merely complicates things, and it is quite unnecessary. Therefore, Occam’s razor is fulfilled by there not being a God. But this argument is not nearly strong enough to show a devout theist the unlikelihood of God. So let’s move on.

For much more importantly, one only needs to observe the First Law of Thermodynamics as to clearly see why it is that there could have never been nothing, and that science in fact claims the contrary. For it states that – come on, everybody say it with me – “energy cannot be created nor destroyed.” Meaning, all the energy that currently exists in the universe has always existed, and no god or first cause was ever required to create it. That is, under this natural law: something has always existed – and never nothing. But this is controversial, as well, as it is hypothesized by many that this law which energy lives by only came into existence after energy itself came into existence, after the Big Bang, and not before (and, once again, I don’t even know what “before” could even mean in regard to the Big Bang). After all, how could energy exist at all, if not along side time? Exactly. And I pose this question for God’s existence, as well. And you don’t have to repeat to me the mantra that “God is spirit and beyond our understanding,” as I don’t believe in sprits, and am trying to explain inductions and deductions which I and others have come to based on what we know about the natural world. Can you at least be serious till the end of this write, please, and put aside your petty, unfalsifiable metaphysics? I thank you for your cooperation.

So here is where the theist and even deist anxiously jump in. “But you clearly have not disproved God,” they say, happily and proudly stating the obvious. No, of course I haven’t. I have only shown his/her/its existence to be improbable and superfluous. Disproving God, on the other hand - is what I am about to do.

The main two aspects of the theistic God are that he has a mind, and was himself not created, as he is the beginning of all things. That is, he is both sentient and the alpha. But a sentient being cannot be the alpha! All sentient beings have a first thought, a first feeling, a first perception. God would have had to of had a first thought, feeling, perception. There cannot be an infinite regress of these things. There cannot be an infinite regress of a stream of consciousness. It is a logical absurdity. God, like all sentient beings, would have had to of come into existence. He would have had to of evolved into existence, as all new species do, or he would have had to of been created by a being greater than he, which means he wouldn’t be God - in the first place. Therefore, though it is possible for a supreme being to exist, it is quite impossible – for God to. And let no one tell you that God cannot be disproved, or that he exists outside of time, ever again. Especially since thinking, something God does partake in supposedly, occurs in time, and we have now seen the consequences of that, as there cannot be an infinite regress of thoughts. Sorry, theists.

Of course, we would be shamefully naïve if we thought it ended here. For they could just wave their pious hands at all this, as they are so good at doing, and say 1. God is all-knowing and therefore does not need to think, and 2. if it is plausible for there to be an infinite regress of time, then it is plausible for there to be an infinite regress of thoughts, and if time did not need a beginning, then neither would a sentient being necessarily have to (in this case, God). But of course this is just more nonsense:

1. Someone can know all there is to know about a subject and still have to think about it, and not merely to remember or analyze it either. Look: 2 + 2 = 4. You already knew that two plus two equaled four, yet seeing that made you think about it. Thoughts are thoughts, and thinking is not negated by omniscience. In fact, thinking is a prerequisite for omniscience. After all, how could our beloved supreme being in question know, if he could not even think? His sentience is perpetual, as it is for all sentient beings until they die.

2. First, the burden of proof would be on the person saying that time did not begin, since the Big Bang Theory is so well established. However, open-minded as we are, let us accept that it is at least possible that time did not begin, and that there is an infinite regress of it. This does not negate the logical absurdity of an infinite regress of thoughts, as thoughts are propelled forwards by a thinking being, not backwards. If then they reach for the bottom of the barrel for the old hat that God cannot be comprehended by our finite minds, then we can merely say, “but thinking can be, for it is something we, animals and birds do, indeed, partake in.” Here then is where they might desperately rebut that it could very well be that there is an infinite regress of God’s thoughts, but we just cannot comprehend that backwards stream of consciousness, as we cannot comprehend there being an infinite regress of time. However, in this case, God cannot exist within the realm of logic, reason and the natural sciences (a wicked game of hide-and-go-seek) and faith in his/her/its existence is merely and disturbingly illogical belief in the absurd and realistically impossible.

But, then again, we already knew that, didn’t we, my fellow atheists? I mean…what else could their faith be?

“Faith is believing what you know aint true.” – Samuel Clemens

My Preliminary-Hermeneutic Presentation for Early Existentialism

2010-01-22T12:45:00.000-08:00

In his preface to The Case of Wagner (1888), Nietzsche makes the seemingly nihilistic claim that “morality negates life.” However, when understood within the context of his philosophy, it is clear that this statement is, in actuality, an expression of war on nihilism as he saw it. In the second half of On the Despisers of the Body, Nietzsche deals with the psychological problem of rancorous, self-loathing human beings in a state of decadence - that is, a state of decline and decay - who can only express themselves in a morally oppressive manner, infecting others with their low-mindedness, morbidity, resentment and unwarranted guilt. In this way they can suck the life out of those who dare have more joy in vitality and worldly success than they, and, at the same time, gain a feeling of mastery, accomplishment and self-worth by tyrannizing over themselves. This is where their power lies, and their so-called morality is, for Nietzsche, something to be condemned. They do not express their ascetic ideals for the good of anyone but their own impoverished egos, and so he has his Zarathustra reprimand them, saying, “Even in your folly and contempt, you despisers of the body, you serve your self.” As with his other works, the problem of morality is of prime interest. A major aspect of it is, of course, that people use morality to appear and feel superior to others. It is a weapon and tool for their inferiority and feebleness, a mask and masquerade. In aphorism 352 of The Gay Science (1882), he propounds that the person who needs this moral attire the most, is not the barbaric type, but the weak “herd animal with its profound mediocrity, timidity, and boredom with itself,” who then uses morality to appear justified and “divine.”

Nietzsche often wrote as if he believed in breeds of man, and, for him, the type Christian has always existed: world-weary calumniators of the earth and slanderers of the body, completely degenerate in instinct, retarded in spirituality. Socrates and Plato are perfect examples of this. In his preface to Beyond Good and Evil (1886) he calls Christianity “Platonism for the people,” and in Twilight of the Idols (1889) he states that Plato built the “bridge which led” from antiquity “to the ‘Cross,’” claiming him to be “morally infected and so much an antecedent Christian” (What I Owe to the Ancients, 2). These “despisers of the body,” whom he chastises, are such a type as this, and so his Zarathustra tells them, “I say unto you: your self itself wants to die and turns away from life.” And in turning away from life they live as though dead, and this, in turn, ties in with an interpretation of the statement “God is dead,” which is rarely discussed or even touched upon.

As far as Nietzsche could see, the Christian god wants more than anything that we deny ourselves the sensualities and worldliness of this life (Stoic philosophy, the dominating philosophy of Tarsus, where St. Paul was from, being the backbone of the New Testament). But for Nietzsche, self-denial is the embrace of nothingness (a dominating theme throughout his later works). It is the embrace of death while still alive. Basically, it is the crucifixion of all that makes us human. For Nietzsche, the Buddhist or Christian monk who has been able to kill off all his desires, and blunt himself against life, is officially dead. He walks, talks, breathes, eats, etc., but he is dead. The shell of a hallow man, one might say. And because the Christian god wants self-abnegation of us as an ideal, he – is dead. It is for this that in Twilight of the Idols he calls Christianity a “hangman’s metaphysics,” (The Four Great Errors, 7), and says that “Christianity, which despised the body, has up till now been mankind’s greatest misfortune” (Expeditions, 47). Or as he so succinctly summed it up in The Anti-Christ: “In God nothingness deified, the will to nothingness sanctified!” (18).

This ascetic ideal as a crutch for the self-image of such a miserable lot is perfect for those who are “no longer able to create beyond” themselves, though that be their “fervent wish,” as Nietzsche puts it, and that is why they have become “despisers of the body,” for it both eludes and fails them time and time again. “And that is why you are angry with life and the earth,” Zarathustra rails at them. “An unconscious envy speaks out of the squint-eyed glance of your contempt.” Parallel this with his words in On the Genealogy of Morals (1887):

And in Human, All Too Human (1878):

There is a defiance of oneself of which many forms of asceticism are among the most sublimated expressions. For certain men feel so great a need to exercise their strength and lust for power that, in default of other objects or because their efforts in other directions have always miscarried, they at last hit upon the idea of tyrannizing over certain parts of their own nature, over, as it were, segments or stages of themselves. ...thus a philosopher adheres to views of asceticism, humility and holiness in the light of which his own image becomes extremely ugly. This division of oneself, this mockery of one’s own nature, this answering contempt with contempt of which the religions have made so much, is actually a very high degree of vanity. ...man takes a real delight in oppressing himself with excessive claims and afterwards idolizing this tyrannically demanding something in his soul. In every ascetic morality man worships a part of himself as God and for that he needs to diabolize the other part (I:137).

And, hence, his thesis statement and conclusion to his third and final essay of On the Genealogy of Morals, What is the Meaning of Ascetic Ideals?: that “man would rather will nothingness than not will.”

The Future of an Illusion (Book Review)

2009-12-30T12:33:00.000-08:00

I felt like writing this review two years ago today. The Future of an Illusion (1927) was the first book of Sigmund Freud’s that I had ever read; though I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that I had and continue to study his theories on sexuality, death, the ego, neuroses and whatever else his grandness decided to throw mankind's way. It is remarkable how much information he managed to put forth in only ten short chapters of this profound book. He considered himself to be a disciple of Friedrich Nietzsche, and, speaking as someone who had read ten (now all twelve) of Nietzsche’s books, I definitely see the influence and similarities in both his thought process and style of writing. He directs all his psychoanalytic sharpness and abilities at the problem of religion in comparing it to an obsessive childhood neurosis. He believes religion to be a stumbling block in the future of mankind, and that what must replace it is the decrease of suffering through love and science. The new and inevitable God of mankind shall be Reason.

He begins by briefly explaining the necessity of civilization and the agitated feelings and sensations it causes in the masses due to the repression of the instincts, and he stresses that the passions could not be subdued by the intellect alone, hence what followed was the necessity of force. And to make up for all the inadequacies and the robbery of fulfillment which individuals feel, society, to compensate, grants them pride in their culture over others and the upholding of their ideals and works of art. This then gratifies a narcissistic need.

“The extent to which a civilization’s precepts have been internalized – to express it popularly and unpsychologically: the moral level of its participants – is not the only form of mental wealth that comes into consideration in estimating a civilization’s value. There are in addition its assets in the shape of ideals and artistic creations – that is, the satisfactions that can be derived from those sources.” – Chapter II

He goes on to explain his theory from Totem and Taboo (1912-1913) that our need for a father whom we both fear and need as protection from the elements and fate of the unforgiving, natural world transformed into God, who contained a combination of many of the gods which existed before him. He quips that the men who first designed a monotheistic god took much pride in designing one that contained the characteristics of all the ones that came before him. And from the first truly abhorrent act mankind had to deal with, which, according to Freud, was the killing of one’s father, came the necessary commandment, sanctified by God Himself – “Thou shalt not kill.” And in order for us to keep this commandment, and other important commands (which he does not mention) alive and in the hearts of man after the death of religion, the masses must be educated and taught that those commands were merely sanctified by religion, but in fact came from us, just as God did – out of necessity.

This is key because a core issue is that when the lower, downtrodden strata find out that the higher, more educated strata no longer believe in God, they will be influenced in the same atheistic direction, and be so indignant and resentful towards them that with no dogmatic fears holding them back, they will revolt out of envy and cause something as bloody as the French and Russian revolutions. This will not happen, however, if people are thoroughly educated in a secular manner from childhood, being properly taught all that their minds can possibly handle so that this gap between the masses no longer exists.

“Science has many open enemies, and many more secret ones, among those who cannot forgive her for having weakened religious faith and for threatening to overthrow it.” – Chapter X

Now, his main concern and emphasis is on Christianity and its state in modern-day Europe. Except there is no scriptural, scientific, or historical refuting of religious ideas, fables and doctrines by him, because, as he says, it has already been done by many great men before him, which he does not want to name, as he does not want to give the impression that he is putting himself in their rank. So the presupposition of the essay is that religion has been thoroughly refuted, is irrational, cannot be true and is, as he puts it, “a lost cause.” His goal is to explain much of the psychology behind it which has not been addressed yet, especially since psychoanalysis began with him. He does not hide the obviousness and his concern for the frivolousness in which people blindly hold fast to their faiths, even when presented with the blatant contradictions and errors.

“Where questions of religion are concerned, people are guilty of every possible sort of dishonesty and intellectual misdemeanour. Philosophers stretch the meaning of words until they retain scarcely anything of their original sense.” – Chapter VI

He explains that this ignorance is preserved from generation to generation through religious inculcation in childhood, and could very well be the root cause for the stagnation of the adult intellect and its limitations. This in turn causes the theistic and presumptuous circular argument that the human intellect can never be enough to replace religion in keeping a civilization secure and safe from humans acting as avariciously and cruelly to one another as their primeval ancestors.

“Is it not true that the two main points in the programme for the education of children to-day are retardation of sexual development and premature religious influence? Thus by the time the child’s intellect awakens, the doctrines of religion have already become unassailable. But are you of opinion that it is very conductive to the strengthening of the intellectual function that so important a field should be closed against it by the threat of Hell-fire? When a man has once brought himself to accept uncritically all the absurdities that religious doctrines put before him and even to overlook the contradictions between them, we need not be greatly surprised at the weakness of his intellect. But we have no other means of controlling our instinctual nature but our intelligence.” – Chapter IX

He strongly believes that when man throws off the veils of infantilism created by theistic brainwashing, he will be able to look at life more clearly and honestly. He will accept his little corner in the universe, and the horrors of life and nature will be something he takes on bravely and with resignation. And because all his concentration will be on this life, instead of a life in some Great Beyond, the world will experience progressive civilizations more profound than anything it has ever experienced before.

“They will be in the same position as a child who has left the parental house where he was so warm and comfortable. But surely infantilism is destined to be surmounted. Men cannot remain children for ever; they must in the end go out into ‘hostile life’. We may call this ‘education to reality’. Need I confess to you that the sole purpose of my book is to point out the necessity for this forward step?” – Chapter IX

Throughout the book he antagonizes himself with a made-up devil’s advocate who he hears making the inevitable objections. It is quite noble, indeed, as he scrutinizes himself thoroughly to the point where you can actually picture a stubborn-minded theist ranting while pulling out every stop he can possibly think of. It is not surprising that it ends with a formidable defence of science against the arguments that have been continuously thrown at it by men like Plato, Descartes, Kant, Leibniz, Berkeley and Hume (though he does not mention the names of these geniuses and master-rhetoricians), who have attempted to thwart it by having us question and severely doubt our reasoning abilities, senses, minds and, in turn, empirical data.

“No, our science is no illusion. But an illusion it would be to suppose that what science cannot give us we can get elsewhere.” – Concluding statement

It is a must read. It won’t take you very long either. What you get here is quality, not quantity.

Psychology of Death and Dying

2009-12-22T15:23:00.001-08:00

I took a course this passed semester called Psychology of Death and Dying. Most of it was spent on grief and trauma, though, so it was kinda depressing at times, which is to be expected. But it was still fabulous. Even the textbook was awesome: The Last Dance: Encountering Death and Dying. All the best quotes, as far as I'm concerned, come from Chapter 1, though (probably because it's the most philosophical), and that's what I'm going to lay out here - my favourites. I'm reading The Denial of Death (1973) right now, by Ernest Becker. It's a mind-blowing, existentially and psychoanalytically driven masterpiece, deeply penetrating like nothing I've ever read before. And, man, oh, man, can he write! No wonder he won the Pulitzer Prize for it in '74. Too bad he couldn't collect it, though...since he died in March of that year. He wrote it while he was dying, and I agree with the professor I had in a psych course called Personality last winter semester that that probably contributed to how "blazenly" written it is (that's not a word, but it should be). All that was left of Becker's intellectual life force - all his fire - went into that monumental piece...but look at me, I'm so blown away by it that I've completely digressed. It's not time for a book review just yet. I'd be finished it by now if it wasn't for the 3 final essays that I had this month, the exam I had in Psychology of Death and Dying on the 15th, and having to worry about making sure everything is progressing with my 12 grad applications that I've been stressing about none stop. That's right - TWELVE!! Anyway, here are my favourite quotes from The Last Dance:

"Among the insights communicated in the work of Emily Dickinson, one of America's foremost poets, is the recognition that it is impossible to affirm life without an examination of death" (p. 19).

"Humour often functions as a kind of comment on incongruity or inconsistency relative to social norms or perspectives, as when a young girl wrote a letter to God asking, 'Instead of letting people die and having to make new ones, why don't you just keep the ones You have now?'" (p. 24).

"In the health care setting, humour serves to communicate important messages, promote social relations, diminish discomfort, and manage 'delicate' situations; it has been called the 'oil of society'" (p. 25).

"In short, humour is an important aid in confronting our fears and gaining a sense of mastery over the unknown. Finding humorous aspects to death, casting it in an unconventional light, relieves some of the anxiety that accompanies awareness of our mortality" (p. 26).

"Only through awareness of our lifelong losses and appreciation of our mortality are we free to be in the present, to live fully" (p. 26).

"The word thanatos became associated in the early twentieth century with Freudian psychoanalytic theory as a term describing the source of unconscious destructive urges, or the death instinct, in contrast to the constructive activities of eros, or life instinct. Freud postulated that all the variations of human behavior and activity were produced by interaction between eros and thanatos" (p. 30).

"Our relationship with death has, as Herman Feifel observed, 'a shaping power on thinking and behavior at all points in the life span.' The way which we anticipate death, Feifel says, governs our 'now' in an influential manner" (p. 31).

"In a variety of ways, our culture helps us 'deny, manipulate, distort, or camouflage death so that it is a less difficult threat with which to cope" (p. 32).

"Our heroic projects that are aimed at destroying evil have the paradoxical effect of bringing more evil in to the world" (p. 33 - Ernest Becker on terror management theory - how people cope with the awareness of death - four days before his passing).

"Because death is always a possibility, fear of death is built into human life. Studies show that 'fear of death functions as a motivating force whether people are currently focused on this particular issue or not; it is the implicit knowledge of death rather than current focal awareness that is the motivating factor.' In a commencement address at Stanford University, Steve Jobs of Apple Computer pointed out the irony of this when he said, 'Death is very likely the single best invention of life.' He called it 'life's change agent.' In this view, death is necessary to give existential meaning to life." (p. 33-34).

"Technological medicine sometimes seems to promote a view of death as an event that can be deferred indefinitely rather than as a normal, natural part of life" (39).

"As death educator Robert Kanaugh said, 'The unexamined death is not worth dying'" (40).

"Although death's finality appears harsh, for the ancient Greeks it was death that makes life significant. Mortality 'compels humans to make some sense of their existence, here and now, each day to discover what it means "to live well"'" (p. 45).

Maxims, Reflections and Opinions

2009-12-14T04:44:00.000-08:00

I have accumulated these throughout the past few years. Some were thought up while sober, others while high. However, how often are any of us truly "sober?" I have often found myself to be most sober when I've been baked out of my skull, and the cobwebs have been cleared. Ones written out of sheer vexation aside, it amazes me how sublime ideas - epiphanies - sometimes blossom and crystallize all at once, and other times, only at the end of a long, deep, intense, vivid train of thought. Some a spiritual awakening, others merely much-needed, sinister laughter. Although, perhaps I should not say "merely" in regard to the most sacred of laughter - self-affirming, life-affirming laughter. God is dead...it doesn't mean we have to be.

1. Cruel people can be treated badly and not get hurt because deep down inside they know they deserve it. Good people eventually go insane.

2. I wish life’s tests were multiple choice.

3. God lets the Devil get away with so much, doesn’t he? It’s enough to make one think they’re one and the same person.

4. Pity can only last so long before it turns into laughter.

5. God is dead and his remains are cause and effect. They created him, and they’re what’s left of him.

6. Now, if you believe in the reality of something that is causing you to be afraid, that is a common product of a bare necessity of life: awareness. But if your beliefs are induced and sustained by fear, your beliefs are a stagnation, self-mortification, falsification and fallacy.

7. Commandments are not to be obeyed; they’re to be overcome. (A basic requirement for the school of Nietzsche).

8. Altruism and dualism – two falsehoods that have swindled mankind out of all honestly, truth and realism. Only we can save ourselves from cobweb spinners.

9. Selflessness, morality, immortality, Holy God, Satan, spirits, Santa Clause – all tools and tricks belonging to the category: “Swindles and Myths.” Though let’s be easy on Santa.

10. A holy truth is a sanctioned lie; the hardest kind to uproot and eradicate. Holiness = shrewd sickness. The “holy man” is a brutally unhealthy one.

11. Selflessness – the most deceitful and pernicious idea mankind ever foisted on itself. All hail the ego! Let us feed it proper nutrition.

12. Gaining a badge of morality out of being a physiological failure – THAT is the purpose and victory of the ascetic life.

13. Pure evil: making a question out of what is natural.

14. Surely God is mirrored by the universe he/she/it has created: cold, hard, merciless, unfair, heartless, amoral and indifferent.

15. I don’t know what’s funnier: the idea of a benevolent god, the notion that all men are created equal, or that it’s even remotely possible in any way, shape or form for selflessness to actually exist.

16. It’s ironic how the people under the delusion that the meek shall inherit the earth are rarely ever meek themselves. Ever notice that?

17. Fuck love if it means making a duty out of life. I have no time or tolerance for such rubbish!

18. Sometimes I think I should have kids just to raise little antichrists – for the sake of posterity, of course.

19. The spirit of man died the day “selflessness” prevailed.

20. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, no bliss from ignorance if doubt should reign.

21. The genius and energy of Plato was infiltrated by and wasted on the asinine idealisms and base-minded rhetoric of a sophist named Socrates.

22. Metaphysics (of the spiritual or theological kind) is the perfect pseudoscience for the layman. After all, it is merely the study of nothings.

23. The human is the only animal that knows for certain that it is going to die one day. It makes us naturally crazy, intrinsically insane, inexorably mad.

24. Christianity is for the oppressed and weary. For everyone else, it only makes oppressed and weary. It was created for and spawned by those gloomy, morbid and miserable in life. It gave and still gives consolation for such wretched souls. That is why for the joyous, high-minded, free-spirited and especially the hedonistic - it is the ultimate sapper of life.

25. Every vampire movie you have ever seen is about Christianity: “Allow me to suck the life right out of you, and in return you shall be granted immortality,” says the vampire/preacher. In return, you then become one of them, and feel compelled to go on to do the same to others. A conversion indeed!

26. A moralistic and/or existential philosopher who is ignorant of the human psyche is ignorant indeed. Unless his or her conscience is deeply rooted in psychological facts and observation – he/she is nothing but a sophist.

27. Do you think that a mother does not or cannot be jealous of or have contempt for her own daughter? How sadly naïve. She can envy her so much that she utterly despises her! But such a thing is too morbid and hateful for the mother to admit, even to herself. And so she dies…with this most bitter of secrets - in her mouth.

28. It is those who take the most pride in not putting themselves before others – that are the most arrogant of all.

29. If we could hear the thoughts of others we would kill ourselves.

30. They’ve lived so long under the ostentatious morality of a nonexistent God that they can no longer even fathom morality without one.

31. I can’t wait for the Bible and all other holy books to finally be written on toilet paper so the world can be wiping their asses with them once and for all. It would be very therapeutic!

32. Religion = a war on personal freedom.

33. Religion = self-delusion fuelled by fear and self-imposed ignorance.

34. Of all the superstitions, cults and pseudo-sciences which I have studied (and they are many), there is none more ridiculous, outrageous and unbelievable - than Judeo-Christianity.

35. If God exists he can suck my fuckin’ cock! How’s that for a reflection? LOL!

36. A wise and prudent man will “transcend” his impulses when it is befitting him. Except only a self-mortifying fool even dares to even attempt to remain afloat from them for good. And when he fails miserably at this horrifically masochistic and superfluous endeavour, let us throw back our heads and laugh with a whole-heart and utmost delight!

37. Always write your maxims and reflections down. Assume nothing about your memory. Especially if it’s when you’re lying in bed at night falling, or trying to fall, asleep. Learn from me.

38. What happens to us when we are forced into the all-too-common position of having to take on more than we can handle, in terms of the limited amount of vitality we have in us? When we have to give that extra 110%, where does that extra 10% come from? Indeed it must come from nowhere else but the energy we put into what we value most: our beloved craft(s), our friends, our family, our hobbies, etc. But what is left to tap when even this is not enough? Perhaps it has to come from what should be unspeakable as a resource. That is, from the inner, subterranean energy that is perpetually required in order to keep our identities and minds intact, until after years of such a morbid endeavour, there is scarcely anything of our former selves left. And how many of us give a piece of ourselves away every single day of our lives? I wish this theory of mine wasn’t true; but it does seem to be.

“A thinker can for years on end force himself to think against the grain: that is to say, to pursue not the thoughts which offer themselves from within him but those to which an office, a prescribed schedule, an arbitrary kind of industriousness seem to oblige him. In the end, however, he will fall sick: for this apparently moral overcoming of himself will ruin his nervous energy just as thoroughly as any regularly indulged in excess could do.” - Nietzsche

The Gnostic Gospels (Book Review)

2009-10-29T17:03:00.000-07:00

Elaine Pagels explains in The Gnostic Gospels (1979), clearly and concisely, why it is that the suppression of the Gnostic gospels and Gnostic thought was deemed so necessary by the early orthodox/Catholic Church. Her writing is eloquent, well thought-out and easy to understand. She asks a lot of important questions that the Nag Hammadi findings of 1945 have encouraged. What do the Gnostic texts permit? What is the significance of their interpretation of the Resurrection? Should the role of women in the church be reconsidered? Can self-knowledge bring one, not only to the knowledge of God, but even to the stature of Christ himself? How does Gnostic Christianity undermine orthodox hierarchal authority? Is the controversy merely about maintaining power over the laymen? These are questions which Pagels attempts to put on the frontlines of Christian thought. She does a superb job of showing the direct link between the Church’s need to suppress Gnosticism, and its need to maintain its power and authority over believers.

Pagels sets the stage of her book with the introduction to both the journey and attainment of the Nag Hammadi texts, followed by their possible esoteric meanings, their relationship to orthodox Christianity and, hence, their invaluable significance. She notes that there is little controversy about the dating of the manuscripts, which is most likely between 350-400 CE. However, the original versions are most likely no later than 120-150 CE, “since Irenaeus, the orthodox Bishop of Lyons” condemns them as heresy in his treaties against heresy and heretics, written in the year 180 (xvi). The name Irenaeus is crucial, given that much of what is known about the onslaught against Gnosticism is taken from his polemics. Therefore, his claims and accusations, along with Tertullian’s, against the Gnostics and their sacred writings are discussed throughout the book.

An interesting topic, which Pagels addresses, is the inversion of the value-judgements and myths by the Gnostics found in the Bible. For example, the Testimony of Truth and Thunder, Perfect Mind, take the side of the serpent in the book of Genesis. In fact, the story of the so-called “fall from paradise” is taken from his point of view. This is quite astonishing since New-Testament Christianity brands him the Devil himself. In these two gospels, however, he is presented as something possessing divine wisdom and truth, and Adam and Eve are, in fact, punished by Jehovah, who is petty and jealous, because they gained the knowledge that only he wishes to have (xvii). Meaning, it is the snake (a Satanic figure), which is good, and God, who is wicked and filled with pride, not the other way around, as the orthodox churches have presented the case to be for two-thousand years.

It is for unorthodox interpretations like this that Gnostic Christianity was deemed, and is stilled deemed, heretical by the mainstream Christian churches. An historically enlightening fact, which Pagels presents, is that when Constantine made Christianity “an officially approved religion in the fourth century, Christian bishops, previously victimized by the police now commanded them” (xviii). It was declared heretical, and a criminal offence to hold in possession any and all Gnostic literature, and “copies of such books were burned and destroyed.” It was this, Pagels notes, that led “someone, possibly a monk from a nearby monastery of St. Pachomius,” to hide a few of these banned manuscripts, to keep “them from destruction – in a jar where they remained buried for almost 1,600 years” (xix). Such a clandestine event as this, gives an idea as to how controversial and significant these texts are. They were deemed extremely dangerous, due to their corrosive nature to what we now know as modern Christianity. This is the reason for their suppression, and Pagels’ mission, in her book, is to explain all the reasons why they were deemed such a threat.

In Chapter 1, Pagels begins with the controversy of the resurrection of Jesus Christ; for the Church, as we know it, was founded on this theme, and presented as historical fact. It is something, Tertullian states, which “must be believed, because it is absurd” (5)! Primarily, according to Pagels, the ultimate necessity for belief in a literal resurrection of Christ lies in the fact that “it legitimizes the authority of certain men who claim to exercise exclusive leadership over churches as the successors of the apostle Peter” (6). However, the Gnostic view takes the resurrection of Jesus symbolically and spiritually, not historically, and so the orthodox condemned “all such interpretations.” Tertullian declared “that anyone who denies the resurrection of the flesh is a heretic, not a Christian” (5). The Gnostics did, indeed, understand “that their theory, like the orthodox one, bore political implications. It suggests that whoever ‘sees the Lord’ through inner vision can claim that his or her own authority equals, or surpasses, that of the Twelve [disciples] – and of their successors,” that is, the church leaders (13-14). Gnosticism, then, loosens the chains that the Church elders have over believers, as those who believe in the Gnostic version of Christianity have no reason to feel humbled and subservient to the Church’s hierarchy. They can, in fact, surpass the stature of any priest, bishop or pope. “All who had received gnosis, they say, had gone beyond the church’s teaching and had transcended the authority of its hierarchy” (25). In other words, it is all about maintaining the power which the apostle-witnessed resurrection of Christ offers, which incited the censure of Gnostic thought regarding the resurrection. The power the orthodox Christian leaders had (or have) was founded on the supposed lineage of authority derived directly from the apostles themselves, and, hence, the sole reason for the derision of Gnostic Christianity by the heresy hunters.

In Chapter II, Pagels discusses the dualistic nature of Gnosticism. The orthodox Christians insisted upon Christianity being essentially monotheistic. The Gnostics believed not only that there were two gods, but that the creator-god, that is, Jehovah himself, was evil. This does not apply, however, to Valentinian Gnosticism, which is also monotheistic (31). It is the monotheistic nature of orthodox Christianity, Pagels maintains, which grants spiritual authority to church leaders, for their power derives from Peter, who was given it by Christ personally, and, hence, Gnostic dualism takes this authority away from them. It only follows, that the main proponents of the orthodox view, “were the bishops themselves. [..] As there is only one God in heaven, Ignatius declares, so there can be only one bishop in the church” (35).

Chapter IV deals with martyrdom and the suffering that supposedly comes with being a Christian. Certain Gnostic texts deny the suffering of Christ, saying that his divine nature transcended his human nature. Being the Son of God, he is pure spirit, which overcomes the flesh completely (75). Gnostic Christians believed that Christ was killed so that they “might not be killed” (82). This naturally led to the belief that the martyrdom of the orthodox Christians was in vain, and, hence, took the glory of it away in the process. This did not please the orthodox Christan leaders in the least. They “insisted on the necessity of accepting martyrdom” as a way of imitating and taking part in the glory of Christ (82). According to Gnostic Christan thought, however, as deduced from many of its sacred texts, their sufferings and executions were not at all honourable martyrdom, but, in fact, unchristian baseness. Also, one argument by the orthodox Christians, like Tertullian, was that their suffering and deaths was in itself evidence of the truth of the Gospel, that their theological take on Christianity was the right one, and that the Gnostics were mere liars and cowards. Justin Martyr went so far as to call their lack of persecution a crime (84).

Chapter VI is of great importance, because it emphasizes the meaning and power of gnosis within Gnostic philosophy and theology. For the Gnostics, finding the one true God required finding the one true self of the individual, and, clearly, no authority-figure is necessary for this. Hence, the Gnostics rejected “religious institutions as a hindrance to their progress.” For the orthodox believers, it was sin that separates humankind from God. The “gnostics, on the contrary, insisted that ignorance, not sin, is what involves a person in suffering” (124). Ignorance could then be considered the one true sin in Gnosticism; for “whoever remains ignorant, a ‘creature of oblivion,’ cannot experience fulfillment” (125). They remain in a state of sheer darkness and foolishness, as explained in Teachings, a Gnostic text written by the teacher Silvanus, and found at Nag Hammadi. This call for independence, then, is the ultimate undermining of clerical power and authority, and the absence of the Christian, metaphysical concept of sin also removes the need for priest absolution (something stressed by Protestantism, as well). The clergy, then, become something superfluous and unneeded.

Pagels transitions smoothly from one topic to another. The dominating theme is clear throughout the entire book, and gives a vivid backdrop, which unites the issues she covers. I enjoyed the feminist matter covered in Chapter III. The matter of denying the feminine aspect of Gnostic theology to maintain patriarchal dominance in the Church is, indeed, a serious matter, which is as relevant in the 21^st Century as it was in the time of early Christianity. It is the timely relevance of The Gnostic Gospels which makes it such an important document. Seeing “God as a dyad whose nature includes both masculine and feminine elements” (57) can completely change a modern-day monotheist’s view of his/her God, be he Jehovah or Allah. Except, the most astonishing aspect for me of Gnostic theology, is the ability to not only achieve knowledge of Christ through gnosis, but to become his equal. For “whoever achieves gnosis becomes ‘no longer a Christian but a Christ’” (134). This is sheer blasphemy in New-Testament Christianity.

The most beautiful aspect of Gnosticism, which Pagels rightly emphasizes, is its artistic nature. It is a matter of finding God in the self-knowledge-seeking of the divine within, which is then expressed through creativity. This is a spiritual form of religion, which cannot be overly emphasized in its ability to help a person feel fulfilled, elated and genuine. The Gnostics encouraged the expression of “their own insight – their own gnosis – by creating new myths, poems, rituals, ‘dialogues’ with Christ, revelations, and accounts of their visions” (20), and it is very telling that the orthodox teachers, such as Irenaeus, censured and ridiculed this very creativity and deep, soulful expression (21). For the Gnostics considered it proof of enlightenment that one could “create the poems, vision accounts, myths and hymns that” were created “only on the basis of immediate experience” (145). Pagels was right to identify all of this artistry and spiritual creativity as an expression of power, and, hence, an undermining of achieving spiritual awakening solely through the Church’s hierarchy.

The Gnostic Gospels is an enlightening read, and a necessity for anyone who is interested in the early rise of Christianity. Although the attainment of power by “spiritual” leaders is not only a religious problem which expresses itself in Christianity, the historical analysis of it within the context of the orthodox churches can help us understand its significance and expression in other religious myths. Elaine Pagels gives a very well thought-out analysis of early Gnosticism, and the threat its sacred texts pose to orthodox Christianity.

Comedic Two-Pager - Charlie's Boner

2009-10-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

Alright, so here's another two-pager I aced the following month. We had to do a comedic one this time...so I did this. In class, we'd present the assignments by acting them out around the long, rectangular, wooden table we always sat around. It was fun. I played the husband for this, a couple of other guys played the smaller parts, and a hilarious chick in the class played the wife, Lisa. She was awesome! She played it just as I wanted and as I knew she would be able to execute it. It had'm all in stitches. One guy asked if he could have the copyrights to it. Heh. Damn, that class was fun! First semester, anyway.

CHARLIE'S BONER

FADE IN:

EXT. MINI MART PARKING LOT NIGHT

A car is speedily driven to the front of the convenience store. CHARLIE (34) jumps out of the front seat and rushes inside. He is wearing dress pants, dress shoes, and a disheveled, white dress shirt.

INT. MINI MART NIGHT

He opens the door and rushes to the clerk (40) at the counter.

CHARLIE

Please, call 911! I’m outa gas! She’s coming!

CLERK

What’s wrong, Mack? Who’s comin’?

Two car headlights suddenly appear through the window. Charlie gulps with fear. LISA (28) gets out and slams the door behind her. She furiously enters the store with a look of sheer wrath upon her face.

LISA

Cheating on me with the babysitter, eh, Charlie? Well, now you pay the price!

She reaches behind her back and takes out a butcher knife.

LISA

Your prick is miiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

Charlie lets out a gasp and heads to the stockroom. She chases after him with her right arms stretched forward and the knife pointed upwards. He exits out the backdoor.

INT. SUPERMARKET NIGHT

The supermarket is immense and very busy. Charlie enters terrified, looks around, and dashes down the fruit section. He reaches the end of the isle and desperately grabs a GROCER by the collar.

CHARLIE

Please, my wife is comin’ for me! Help!

Lisa enters, stops, sees him, and then bolts after him with the knife pointed up in the air.

GROCER

Your wife?

CHARLIE

Yes!

GROCER

What does she want?

Lisa screams at the top of her lungs with a sadistic look in her eyes. She is headed right for Charlie’s crotch.

CHARLIE

My penis!

He dashes around the corner and gets some distance away from her. He stops and then she does the same. He frantically looks from left to right. He grabs a watermelon. There is a pause as he looks at her slyly.

LISA

To the wicked, Charlie...Bobitization...is inevitable.

She darts for him. He starts bowling watermelons as fast as he can towards her, then small cans of food. She acrobatically jumps off of each one towards him. He grabs a grapefruit and heads down another isle.

He stops about 50 feet in front of her, grabs three cereal boxes, and starts shooting them at her like giant ninja stars. She dodges each one. He heads for the exist. Just when he is about to leave, she catches up to him.

She lets out a scream, brings the knife down towards his lower region, he blocks it with the grapefruit, and the knife cuts it in half. With both halves, he squeezes citrus spray in each of her eyes. She screams, drops the knife, and covers her face. He escapes.

EXT. STREET NIGHT

Charlie runs to a building across the street without looking. A car swerves to avoid him and hits another car coming in the opposite direction. Lisa leaps over the cars effortlessly. She gets to the front door of the building and reads the sign: “MISOGYNISTS OF AMERICA.”

LISA

(looks up)
This isn’t over, Charlie! It shall be my trophyyyyyyyyyy!!

Two-Pager - Autumn Day

2009-10-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

Back in September of 2005, I started taking a 7-month screen writing course at Ryerson University. The first assignment wasn't anything specific. It just had to have dialogue (my specialty), and it was limited to two pages. So I did this, and before October ends, I just thought I'd give it a post up here. I got an A on it, by the way. I don't know why; it's not that great. I hope you've enjoyed your autumn.

Autumn Day

FADE IN:

EXT. PARK DAY

Two best friends, TYLER PARKER (21) and KAYLA CLARK (21), are sitting beside each other under an apple tree with their backs resting against the trunk.

The leaves are changing colours as apples fall from their branches. Kayla is sitting with her knees up to her chest and her arms rapped around them. She rarely looks at Tyler while they speak.

TYLER

I just love fall.

KAYLA

Why?

TYLER

It’s beautiful. There’s colour to the leaves, there’s a perfect end of summer breeze, it’s not too cold, not too hot, there’s that unique autumn scent...but I guess mostly the colours. I love colours. What, you don’t like it?

KAYLA

No, I hate it.

TYLER

How can you hate Autumn?

KAYLA

Because everything’s dying, for God’s sake!

TYLER

Must you look at everything so morbidly?

KAYLA

It’s a morbid season. I look at it that way because it is! If you have an issue with the fact that everything’s dying, take it up with God.

TYLER

I’m not speaking to him!

KAYLA

It’s not that I’m morbid; you’re just overly merry and optimistic.

TYLER

I’ll have you know that I take pride in my pessimism.

He starts picking at the grass.

KAYLA

Oh, please. The trees are dying, the grass is dying, birds are flying away so they don’t die, squirrels are frantically scavenging around collecting enough scraps from the dying trees to survive the upcoming harsh, callous winter freeze, which homeless people are shaking in horror at just the thought of, and here you are talking about how beautiful it is because the leaves are changing colours in response to their death. Oh, and some imaginary smell.

TYLER

Hey, if you can’t smell it that’s your problem. If anything, you’re just jealous that I can find beauty and token hope in a time of year that you choose to find miserable and depressing.

KAYLA

I find it that way because it’s blatantly obvious. This just epitomizes the way you sadly go through life. An overtly delusional optimist. You blind yourself to the obviousness of the negativity so you can hold on to the scraps of your childhood la-la land.

TYLER

I am not an optimist, alright?! Stop calling me that! I really resent it. I’m the gloomiest person anyone I know has ever encountered.

KAYLA

Don’t kid yourself. You find pure joy in a time of year cleaved with the natural despondence of death.

TYLER

Correction: I see beauty in what you morbidly choose to deem as despondence of death.

KAYLA

You used to just love the Polkadot Door, didn’t you?

TYLER

Hated it, as a matter-of-fact.

KAYLA

Surprising.

TYLER

Polkaroo was Satan!

KAYLA

Don’t hurt yourself.

TYLER

Look, I just like colours! Do I really deserve this reproof for that? What’s your problem?

KAYLA

Nothing. I’m just stating my case.

An apple falls from the tree clunking him on the head.

TYLER

(grabs his skull)

Ah! Fuck!

KAYLA

That’s fall for yah.

TYLER

Unbelievable. Newton’s an iconic genius for realizing what we all know as toddlers. If he was such a genius, why didn’t he reverse the process?

KAYLA

The process of life and death, or what goes up must come down?

Another apple falls and cracks him on the skull again. He yelps out in pain.

TYLER

Goddamn it!

He grabs the apple angrily, stands up, and whips it as far as he can. Kayla stands up beside him.

KAYLA

I guess the tree doesn’t want us sitting under it anymore. It doesn’t want us reminding it of its time of dying.

TYLER

(pause)

Autumn sucks.

They start walking.

Saved by a Magic Mushroom

2009-10-25T13:07:00.001-07:00

I love October. Good things always happen to me in October. Four years ago today, I had the craziest trip of my life and through it I was literally reborn and emancipated. My life was changed forever, and I never viewed people, religion, ascetic morality or social mores the same way ever again. I was always skeptical about them, but now, seeing the psychology behind them, I had a reason and instinct for cynicism. I finally saw so clearly the rancour and hostility of the rabble - like never before. The way they used superstition and morality as a weapon had always bothered me, but now I knew exactly why. I saw the vamparism. I still see the vamparism, more and more everyday. Too much happened to me that magical day, and I don't have the time to sum up all my perceptions, revelations and experiences here. However, a few months later, I decided to write a strange, little poem about it that turned into a prose, and then a poem again and I think a prose near the end...I don't know...fuck it, it doesn't matter; I'd just like to show it to you...whoever you are.

A Magic Mushroom was My Saviour
05/04/06

What began as a feeling deep,
An awakening of my struggle sleep,
A grinding, a churning, a marching dirt within,
Earthly purification, an excavation of sin.
Faces, bodies, images of the forbidden above me as I lay,
Never had I felt as whole as I had felt that day.
Patterns of light morphing...devouring and creating itself,
and out it came as totem images before me,
Light of coloured, bright life empowered, knowing faces of myself.
Inner glow comforting, soothing, warming feeling of my soul,
‘twas love possessing my every being and my whole.
With my new eyes, emancipated, outside did I drift,
That beloved 2005 of October 25th.
Seeing the wholesome world and sky of autumn as if for the first time,
I finally understood that my pious inculcation was nothing short of a crime.
That eternal place of fire and sulfur, pain and agony – a fear-tactic! Nothing more!
A devil who was the cause of my doubting a book founded on contradictions and errors - a scare-tactic! Nothing more!
Why hadn’t I realized it before?
Why was it only then that I so clearly saw through the scriptural deceit as spawned by bile?
Always a person of strong intuition and freeing will,
I guess I just needed the inevitable nudge,
But this was that times a thousand,
And now behold my mighty grudge!
So many years wasted in unwarranted guilt,
Without which the Cross would have not any power,
But once and for all reason cooled the burning,
I was then freed that warm, blessed hour.
Can anyone deny that if it wasn’t for the fabricated Hell and Satan that Christianity and Islam would have been mere footnotes in history?! Nothing more!
The grand idea of heaven takes people to places of worship,
the fear of hell keeps them there.
But it’s funny that when you acknowledge that there are no such things as demons, perdition, or “sin,” the term “Saviour” then means nothing.
And so now the lies and nonsense are affirmed to me for what they are. Fear tactics! Nothing more!
Now I live anew! Without the folklore.
Once and for all purged of any ravishing Christian guilt – as from refusing the weakening stagnation of that horrid Gospel pseudo-stilt!
Almost crippling me as it has done to so many past and present,
Leaving me an empty, scared, hollow peasant.
But my will was too strong,
For the joy of the world I would always long!
My entire life its evils raping my conscience by shrewdly violating me through what makes me human,
I am an innocent animal capable of my own benevolence; cleansed, and free, I am my own dominion!
The Church’s archaic form of control now impotent – so clearly self-servingly schemed,
Making you feel like a sinner in order to make you feel like you need to be redeemed.
No more acidic burn simply for being a healthily carnal creature,
My chest now safe from Christ’s phallus of fire.
The monster Paul dared condemn passion and ambition!
Tfou! I spit on him! Weakening was his mission!
For what then is the point of life? So befuddling is this heinous nihilism!
Paulianity is its true name – the ultimate masochism!
But I shall have none of it!
For me it was always misery not joy!
I embrace the seven deadly sins as intrinsic growths of living!
It is only through them in which I may cultivate my being!
Behold! I am a free man at last!
To express, to write, to laugh, to know, to fuck - to have a blast!

“Christianity has been up till now mankind’s greatest misfortune.” – Nietzsche

“That’s why I always recommend a psychedelic experience, ‘cause it does make you realize that everything you learned is, in fact, just learned and not necessarily true.” – Bill Hicks on religion

So true, Bill. R.I.P.

Dark Angel

2009-10-11T10:16:00.000-07:00

See my dark angel,
See her soaring in the night?
Even through the day,
She still soars through the night.

Why so melancholy, dear angel?
Feel that all you do is glide?
Sweep down for me, dark angel,
Won’t you take me for a ride?

What do you search for, my angel,
A demon to fructify your role?
What will it take to slake you?
Is there a limit to your soul?

Why do you look away, dark angel?
Why so sullen, so morose?
My heart distends like yours, dark angel,
For it’s with you that it’s engrossed.

Hail down on me, sweet angel,
How I long for your embrace,
Grant me this much, dear angel,
As I take in and kiss your face.

Who do you swoop down on now, dark angel,
Another demon to cause you grief?
Such a veneer of charm is gravity,
Which pulls you in without relief.

Saddened once again, dark angel?
Another supposed personage, O, so puerile…
But why be so dejected, sweet angel?
By yet another demon, O, so vile?

Can I eat your pain, dear angel?
Can you rain it down on me?
I’ll always do my most, my angel,
Our hearts a synergy.

Don’t feel this way, dark angel,
To let your heart grow cold with stings!
Keep soaring on, my angel,
And let no demon break your wings.

I look on in awe, dear angel,
As I see you streaming 'cross the sky.
I look on with roses knotted,
For in my heart you’ll never die.

To Hell with Hell

2009-08-26T20:08:00.000-07:00

Something has been bothering me for quite some time now. I think almost as long as I can remember. The unwarranted fear of this nonexistent place called hell is truly an unfortunate thing. An underlying, subterranean social cancer, one might say. It used to keep me up nights as a child and well into adulthood; tossing and turning the precious night hours away; imagining myself and everyone I ever cared about screaming in perpetual agony for all eternity in a pit of never-ending hellfire. I honestly think that religious inculcation is child abuse and that people who put the fear of hell into their children should have their children taken away from them. And it’s ironic that the two gods most responsible for breeding this fear of eternal destruction are the god of the Bible and the god of the Koran. The two most despicable deities man ever invented: deities whom, according to their very own holy texts, are responsible for the most atrocious and deplorable crimes ever committed against humanity. Many of which are acts a human being could never execute, i.e., Zechariah 14:1-2 where Jehovah sends an army into Jerusalem to ransack the homes and rape the women. Or Deuteronomy 28:53-57 and Jeremiah 19:9 where he makes people eat each other and their children. Stephen King doesn’t even write this shit! What is supernatural and also inhuman about such verses, and all the others the Bible is peppered with, besides the most obvious, is that God takes away the freewill of the people being forced to commit these evils with a clear conscience, and controls them like their pawns on a chessboard. This is something a human tyrant could not do no matter how badly he may want to. There is no character in all of literary fiction more worthy of eternal damnation than such a being as this. People actually pray to him, it’s disgusting!

“Belief in a cruel God makes a cruel man.” – Thomas Paine

There are so many miserable, divorced Catholic and Orthodox women out there who had a horrific marital experience, and who now either live in loneliness or in constant guilt and fear for their mortal souls, because they currently “live in sin.” Allow me to elaborate. In Christianity – and the Catholic and Orthodox churches are the only ones who have remained dogmatically true to this – divorce and remarriage to somebody else is only permitted by the lunatic from Nazareth if the first spouse was guilty of infidelity. By any other reason and remarriage is an act of adultery. Meaning, if a man beats the living hell out of his wife on a regular basis, and even gambles her money away, she may leave him only to remain single for the rest of her life, because he did not cheat on her. If she finds another man – one who treats her right, and gives her the good life she deserves – both are guilty of adultery and will be thrown into a lake of fire and sulfur for it for all eternity. This is how evil and sadistic the Christian god is! This is why I hate him so much! He’s the most malicious monster of monsters! What, should the poor, abused woman remain with her tyrannous husband until he beats her to death one day? And why should she remain alone forever if she does the right thing and leaves him? Does she not deserve happiness? Such detestable misogyny! Thankfully, marriage (at least heterosexual marriage) is being slowly abolished along with Christianity itself. And on a side note, if you compare Matthew 19:9 to Mark 10:11-12, Christ contradicts himself on the matter. (The reason being, of course, that the gospel writers didn’t know each other, and so couldn’t check each other’s notes). In Matthew, divorce and remarriage is allowed due to unfaithfulness. However, in Mark, it is not allowed at all, and is adultery on all counts. All of this nonsense is a perfect example of what Richard Dawkins rightly calls “obnoxious morality.” Heh. I like that.

Now, like I said, there has been something on my mind for quite some time now. Almost all my life. It is the existential problem, as I see it, between the day to day interactions of people with the different belief-systems of hell. Not to mention the psychological problem of a believer (in such a place) in consorting or even acquainting themselves with a nonbeliever. It is a matter of inauthenticity and self-deceit. And as someone who used to be Christian, it is a problem which I once experienced within myself, all the while wondering how other believers dealt with it. Allow me to illustrate my point.

A Christian wakes up on Sunday morning and goes to church with his wife and kids (unless, of course, they are Seventh Day Adventists). When consorting with his fellow believers, he does so with a belief in his mind that he may also consort with them for all eternity after death in the bliss of heaven. When he interacts with family members of the same creed, it is with this same species of feeling. Nothing along the lines of convinced fear for their mortal souls exists. But the next day he goes to work. He interacts with fellow coworkers of many different superstitions other than his, along with those who carry none at all. But he smiles to all of them. He wishes them well. He bids them good day. He gives them high fives. He works with them earnestly to achieve their goals and deadlines. He gives them assistance, encouragement and praise. Nobody acts like there is an apocalypse on its way to swallow the majority of the human race into eternal, fiery torment. Well, most don’t anyway. Yet, as far as he is considered, he knows it as fact that most of them (unless they are of likeminded faith) are going to burn in hell forever and ever. And if he is a Catholic Christian he even feels this way about his Protestant coworkers, and they, if they are indeed devout, think this way about him. His Muslim coworkers feel that way about him, as well, along with all their other non-Muslim coworkers, whom they also feel that way towards, no matter, of course, how good they are as human beings.

But they act like everything is A-OK. But how can it be okay? If most of their coworkers, acquaintances, and the majority of humankind, who they claim are their brothers and sisters, are going to end up in the most horrific, nightmarish place imaginable, then should they not naturally be in a constant state of nausea and deep, dark depression, peppered with bouts of solemn weeping? How can they say that they are filled with their god’s love, yet not be in the constant turmoil of the conflicting feelings between wanting to be content and happy, and feeling nothing but the most ceaseless fear, pity and sadness for the accursed lot of people who they know and do not know? How then can they say that they love them, when they act like everything is fine and show no concern for them whatsoever? And, indeed, the only way for them to function properly from day to day is if they push these terrible feelings down into the trenches of their guts, and these morbid thoughts into the abyss of their mind. And in so doing, every “hi, how are you?” from a believer to an unbeliever is completely fallacious, because it does not matter how they are, hell awaits them. Every “good morning” and “good night” is tainted with a falsehood that increases along with the smile they are both presented and present with. Every “I hope you‘re doing well” is tainted with a morbid disingenuousness, because it does not matter how they are doing in this world if an eternity of weeping, and whaling and gnashing of teeth is their inevitable, godforsaken end, and deep down inside every believer knows it. But they have to act like everything’s okay. They must lie to themselves that everything is okay so they can have some semblance of peace in a life where it is already so hard to find. Otherwise, the thoughts and images of most of the people they know and care about (even family members of different beliefs) suffering to no avail would weigh down on them to the point where they could no longer function in society. So, as a defense mechanism, they push them away, and their conscience does not, in turn, constantly bite and nip at them for not always feeling remorse for their fellow man, woman and child, and for not proselytizing every chance they get in order to save them, making a complete nuisance and pestering bug of themselves. They may even “convince” themselves the miserable, absurd lie that all those people actually deserve what they are going to get, because it is decreed and handed down by their infallible, righteous, divine Judge. Either way, they teach themselves the abysmal habit of looking at themselves dishonestly. All this is a form of cognitive dissonance. The type of thing George Orwell termed doublethink.

And so instinctual concern and compassion for those whom, according to their holy writ, are damned forever, is smothered away and replaced with a weaker, tainted, plastic one. And the bad conscience that comes with this is now and then appeased by praying for the infidels and heretics to “come to the light.” Then they can tell themselves that though most are going to burn anyway, at least they’re doing their part. Yet, according to those two monsters of monotheism (Christianity and Islam), everyone who has ever lived or will live is predestined to either go to heaven or hell. So they should know very well, then, that there is no point in praying for them at all. It is futile. All this has implicitly bred in all believers in hell (and there are a few billion of them) an inauthenticity and callousness like no other. For if they actually considered what it all actually meant, and dwelt on it for an extended period of time, that, say, a beautiful human being (a philanthropist perhaps) is to burn in hell simply for not being baptized or for eating pork, for example, their natural care for their fellow species would have their conscience scream at them at how wrong it all is, and they would begin to doubt, as most actually do, whether they would like to admit it or not. And this doubt would grow and grow until it completely swept over their mind, heart and conscience and eventually blossomed into the emancipation of the fruits of a healthy skepticism and naturalistic world view. They would be cleansed of such a poisonous, masochistic superstition. No longer would they have to believe that most of the innocent, smiling or frowning faces which they see from day to day are going to end up in unending punishment at the hands of a merciless, totalitarian god, who we are supposed to believe is a god of love. For if the believer accepts all this madness for what it is, he or she would have to admit the simple fact that such a god has no love in him at all.

And if the aforesaid Christian man was raised Muslim, he would believe what Muslims believe about the matter: namely that all non-Muslims, like him, are eternally damned to hell. And if he were raised a Hindu or a Buddhist, he would be damned by both of these monotheistic standards, and, most importantly – it would not be his fault. And if either Christianity or Islam is correct, most people are handed at childhood onwards with a one way ticket to perdition. And, indeed – it is not their fault. No, no; this is most certainly NOT okay!

Now, let us say, hypothetically speaking, of course, that if this madman from Nazareth, this Lion of the Tribe of Judah, this Jesus Christ, were to return one day, with a double-edged sword coming out of his mouth, to throw the vast majority of the human race into a lake of fire and brimstone for all eternity, simply for not believing in him, or for not believing in him strongly enough, would it not be our duty to prevent such an unimaginably horrific and horrible thing from happening? Would it not be, out of our love for mankind, an obligation and privilege to crucify him and everything he stands for – once and for all?!

I think so...I think so...

If it wasn’t for the fear-tactics of hell and the devil, Christianity and Islam would have been footnotes in history!

Peace. Love. Abort Christ!

Cool Night Deceit

2009-08-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

I love the cool night air,
The way it fills up my lungs...
The way it breezes by my ears,
Whispering the songs never sung.

Cool, summer-night air,
A microcosmic bliss...
Being the things that mean something,
Being a love that I miss.

Too-cool, summer-night breeze,
One that can make me ill...
Though I can’t bring myself to leave you,
And the wretched hope you instill.

Cold, summer-night wind,
An unfair surprise...
I now must escape thee,
And your enchanting, truthful lies.

The Introduction to My Future Book

2009-08-26T16:57:00.000-07:00

To the world-weary and/or weak-minded, I ask for your own good that you, please, put this down,
For inside, like all my writings, caustic, fervid, derisive, lecherous, eccentric, worldly, dark, godless, carefree words abound.
For those who love life, to laugh, to love, to express and shun not reality,
I welcome your gleaming eyes of wonder and desire, for I know you will appreciate my incorrigibility.
However, I say, "be gone!" to all calumniators of the earth, my impudent, sworn enemies - the petty!

08/16/06

The Gay Science (Review)

2009-08-26T15:04:00.000-07:00

"'Evil has always had great effects in its favor. And nature is evil. Let us therefore be natural.' That is the secret reasoning of those who have mastered the most spectacular effects, and they have all too often been considered great human beings.” – The Gay Science; 225

I read this 19th-Century masterpiece of literature back in December, and then felt compelled to write this review. It was the eleventh book of Friedrich Nietzsche’s that I had read. All that was left was Nietzsche Contra Wagner, which I read this summer when I had the chance. I can surely understand why The Gay Science is so many people’s favourite. Here he puts art above science, knowledge above “truth,” and, as always, the affirmation of life up against its denial and slander. But what the book is most renowned for is the announcement that “God is dead,” and the notion of the eternal recurrence. The former requires much work to still be done in the realm of science and language, as the shadows of God remain, and they, too, must be – annihilated.

The meaning of "God is dead" has, for the most part, been explained as God being dead in comparison to how alive he was prior to the Enlightenment. For prior to the Enlightenment, everything (in Europe, anyway) was seen through theistic eyes; be it science, knowledge or “wisdom.” The search for truth in every sense was instinctively sought in and through God. Self- and external discovery was bound to theism at the hip. With the Enlightenment, God was removed, and reason put in his place. One might say he was flattened and crushed by it.

There is, of course, another interpretation of the statement “God is dead,” which one rarely ever hears touched upon, but is just as important, if not more so, and is well tied into what Nietzsche says in Thus Spoke Zarathustra of God being killed by pity. The Christian god wants more than anything that we deny ourselves this life. (Stoicism being the backbone of the New Testament). Basically, it is a call for the crucifixion of all that makes us human. But for Nietzsche, self-denial is the embrace of nothingness (a dominating theme in On the Genealogy of Morals and The Anti-Christ), and nothingness is precisely what death is. Therefore, self-denial is the embrace of death while one is still alive. For Nietzsche, the Buddhist or Christian monk who has been able to kill off all his desires, and blunt himself against life, is officially dead. He walks, talks, breathes, eats, etc, but he is dead. A living sack of meat, one might say. And because the Christian god wants self-abnegation of us as an ideal, he – is dead. For Nietzsche, Christianity is the ultimate attack on and nay-saying of life. This life, that is. As there is no other.

As for the matter of pity in Zarathustra, his following book, and how it fits into all of this, it is also a Christian matter. He called Christianity "the religion of pity." As most know, as it is overt, the god of The Old Testament is a god of power, vengefulness and animosity, and the god of the New Testament a god of love; yet, it is supposedly the same god. Except, he expresses this love by pitying our so-called “sinful natures.” For Nietzsche, this is a wearying violation of conscience, as there is nothing – absolutely nothing – to be pitied here. Our instincts and natural inclinations are to be embraced, sharpened and affirmed, and because this wretched, insipid, obnoxious god wants the contrary of us, namely to kill off our desires, he has inevitably died off (at least in comparison to his tyrannical dominion over Europe in the Middle Ages), as what is unnatural and/or wearying of the human spirit cannot last forever. Furthermore, it is quite astounding to our logic that all of a sudden this Old Testament god of wrath, bigotry and violence is insatiably in love with the entire world (not just the Jews anymore), and shows it by having his son brutally tortured and executed. This morbid nonsense could surely not have lasted forever in the hearts of man as the absolute, glorious truth.

The truth of the matter is, there is far too much that Nietzsche packed into this marvelous book, especially with book five, which he added four years later in 1886, and the Appendix of Songs the following year, for me to even attempt to successfully and justly summarize it all in a little review. But I will explain some fundamental aspects of it, like the vitriolic attack on the search for the absolute truth of things, which is first introduced in section 4 of the preface. Nietzsche doesn’t know what the truth could possibly be, but he does know that, because the truth of something is a statement to which nothing more can be added, we do not have the means of ever finding it, nor should we want to be able to. For him such truth-claims are a product of laziness and an expression of death, which is why he calls Truth an “old hag,” and why in aphorism 344 he identifies the will to truth as “a concealed will to death.” The horizons are limitless for Nietzsche. They are eternal, and there will always be more to learn, especially about human existence, which offers infinite interpretations, and he would not want it any other way, nor can he fathom why someone would want such an insipid, lifeless thing. In fact, if there were a God, he would willingly praise him for our fate being this way and no other, which is another aspect of his philosophy that is first mentioned here, and again in Ecce Homo: amor fati – the love of fate.

We cannot know all there is to know about the causes of human motives and inspiration, not just because all people and situations are different, but because we are the thing knowing. For this reason, which I have here so quickly and coarsely summed up, as there is so much more to this, he sides with Leibniz over Descartes that knowledge is to be sought and accumulated from the object, not the subject. Vice versa is futile, because in the process of knowing, our stream of consciousness continually brings about more that can and cannot be known. It is an infinite cycle that can get us nowhere in trying to learn about the world around us. And he agrees with Hume, as pretty much all the post-Enlightenment thinkers do (though without saying that is what he is doing, as he, for the most part, found Hume's philosophy to be petty and frivolous) that our reason is a slave to our passions, and Nietzsche expounds that when we discover or accept a new truth over one we used to embrace, it is because we have changed, and are ready to put on a new skin, which better suits our present selves.

A very interesting and undeniably ingenious section of the book is aphorism 354, entitled "On the genius of the species.” Nietzsche takes his usual burrowing stab at the origins of human consciousness and self-consciousness. He expounds for quite a bit that the former developed out of a need for communication, particularly between those who command and those who obey. It has evolved around humanity’s “social or herd nature” as a required “social or herd utility.” The latter is a by-product of actual human interaction, communication and the need to express ourselves as clearly as possible to our fellow Homosapiens. This made us very conscious of ourselves, and, therefore, “it was only as a social animal that man acquired self-consciousness – which he is still in the process of doing, more and more.” In constantly needing to assess ourselves and how well we are establishing what we want to communicate, self-consciousness came to be. Due to all of this, the “genius of the species” is what has us see the world, not as it actually is (though it might by fluke sometimes), but as is best for the herd – for the species. All our thoughts are continually “governed by the character of consciousness – by the ‘genius of the species’ that commands it – and translated back into the perspective of the herd.”

As with his other works, the problem of morality is of prime interest. A major aspect of it is, of course, that people use morality to appear and feel superior to others. It is a weapon and tool of their inferiority and feebleness. It is a mask and masquerade. In aphorism 352, he propounds that the person who needs this moral attire the most, is not the barbaric type, but the weak “herd animal with its profound mediocrity, timidity, and boredom with itself,” who then uses morality to appear justified and “divine.” A sage and/or religious founder, like Buddha or St. Paul, must have the genius of understanding the correct morality that will best fit and attract a people in a given place and time, which will in turn inspire followers and zealous devotion (353). And, as for philosophers, be they moral fanatics like Kant or not, there is nothing more paltry and pathetic to Nietzsche, than a philosopher who cannot laugh at himself and the world around him from time to time. Walter Kaufmann, who offers incredibly insightful footnotes, as usual, remarks that most of Nietzsche’s interpreters, critics and detractors were incapable of laughing at themselves.

As for his wonderfully superb attacks and mockery of nationalism (in particularly German nationalism), antisemitism, pessimism, mysticism and all the rest on Christianity and the Christian god, I will not dare to even begin to try and summarize it all here. It’s all too brilliant and fun, and would be quite unjust of me. I only recommend this entire book be read, and everything in it be pondered on without haste by the reader; preferably with a fierce, exuberant heart; under warm, sunny skies, or majestic, starry nights.

A TOAST then! To the death of God! How I love the smell of his rotting carcass!!

Remember: just because God is dead, it doesn't mean we have to be. :)

Fool in Despair

All that I wrote on table and wall
With a foolish heart and foolish scrawl
Was meant to add a little grace.

You say: “The hands of fools deface
Table and wall – one must erase
All he has written, all!”

I’d like to help as best I can:
I wield a sponge, as you recall,
As critic and as waterman.

But when the cleaning up is done,
Let’s see the super-sage emit
Upon the walls sagacious shit!

- From the Appendix of Songs -

Man and His Mortality

2009-08-24T18:39:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think “Mother Nature” went too far when she created a creature that can comprehend its own mortality. Madness has reigned upon the earth ever since. Man. Homosapien sapien. He was put on this earth and wants to know why. Demands to know why! And this demand is inexorable. This demand is nonnegotiable. But the thought and horror of ever ending for good...well, this is simply unacceptable. “Me? Expire?” Man asks himself baffled and incredulous. “But how can that be? I’m far too important! I mean...this is I we are talking about! I’m too special and spectacular to ever simply...end! People just don’t know it. The world...go on without me? ME, for god sakes?! Pah! Such impudence!” But it wasn’t enough that man should delude himself with the idea of immortality. He had to make himself into something of remarkable importance. So he made himself a sight for the gods. But first he had to invent them.

Thereafter, supercilious irrationality and unreason swept the earth like a predestined, unthinking, unrelenting odium with only one purpose: to fulfill the masochistic need(s) of the human race. War, petty feuds, petty bitterness, petty resentment, trifles, intolerance, religion, rape-morality, scandal, lies, marriage, gossip, self-denial, self-laceration, consumerism, trivial controversy, garbage-news, and soap operas! O, how pitifully this pathetic, feeble-minded creature deals with the absurdity of its existence! Man has to show man who’s boss while getting his base entertainment fix. “All others must be brought down below me, for I alone must be deemed great!” Thus man enviously, insecurely, and moronically declares to himself. He sees himself above the rabble. Yet he runs with them, agrees with them, yearns with them – is them. He craves the same petty, mind-numbing entertainment of unneeded wants and idiotic travesty-outrages. Anything to keep him feeling alive and occupied. O, how man runs with all his might away from the vacuum known as his unconscious mind and the main awareness-of (topic) which dominates it: death. His impending doom. All his “needs” and time-wastes are him panting and sweating as he runs in the other direction; for this vacuum sucks at him hard, nonstop and effortlessly. Since his beginning. Day in and day out.

But, I wish the best for mankind. Truly. I hope that one day it rids itself of its silly, self-made, “protective” shells of stupidity. For each of our lives are so short – and this must be embraced – and it is only right that we affirm them with truth and joy. There is no need for man to constantly attack, torment, waste and ravage himself and his fellow beings. This is not what life is for. But as long as the mob’s masochism prevails, we shall never be all that we can be. Is this perhaps a process of our evolution? Could be, but I fear that we may completely destroy ourselves before “nature” opens all of our eyes. Man seems to have much more losing to do before he finally learns how to win...by facing his fears.

"Oh this insane, pathetic beast - man! What ideas he has, what unnaturalness, what paroxysms of nonsense, what bestiality of thought erupts as soon as he is prevented just a little from being a beast in deed! [...] Here is sickness, beyond any doubt, the most terrible sickness that has ever raged in man; and whoever can still bear to hear (but today one no longer has ears for this!) how in this night of torment and absurdity there has resounded the cry of love, the cry of the most nostalgic rapture, of redemption through love, will turn away, seized by invincible horror. - There is so much in man that is hideous! - Too long, the earth has been a madhouse! -" - Friedrich Nietzsche; On the Genealogy of Morals

January 2, 2007

Exuberant Iconoclastic Demands

2009-07-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

Fuck the Father,
Fuck the Son,
Fuck the things which they have done,
Fuck the foul Holy Ghost,
To its death I drink a toast.

Fuck the vampires who are called priests,
Dare not show reverence – none in the least!
Fuck the sheiks, imams and popes,
Fuck their weak, acquiescing dopes!
Fuck each rabbi, shaman and minister,
Fuck every lie that they administer!
Fuck every astrologer, palm-reader, medium and psychic,
Fuck every dollar they slip in their pocket!

Fuck every single last place of worship,
Take away their land; none are worth it!
Tax’m, tax’m one and all,
Tax’m, tax’m, watch’m fall.
Tax’m till their final breath,
Tax’m till their very death!

Fuck every last superstitious claim,
Reality triumphs all the same.
Fuck every decree of obnoxious morality,
And let’s hold fast to man and his dignity!

07/22/09

The Crows at Dawn

2009-07-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

They caw at dawn,
Alarming me horribly from my much-needed slumber,
Two crows impatiently taking turns screaming,
Crying at the seeds of day and nothingness.
What is it they demand?
And what makes them think I care so much?
Why do they want me to care?
Why do they demand it, and only now in my fragile state of paralysis?

Crows at dawn...
Why must it be?
What for the existence of these obnoxious, impertinent, relentless, horrid cries?
And at the worst time to hear them.
And so demanding!
They demand to be heard these old-woman’s-demons,
Harbingers and revelers of gloom and decay,
Squawking madly at this ungodly hour.

But why at dawn?
And so fervently?!
Why the greyer, wetter and gloomier it is, do they insist to add or cheer on?
Is this their natural joy?
Or do they only despise me so?
For I know...that if I were deaf, they would not crow.

So these two bastard-crows at dawn,
They wish so anxiously to be them who welcome me before my time into the day,
And for this, I cannot forgive them,
And for this, they are my sworn enemies,
Who so morbidly and viciously taunt me so.
They even compete with each other in this task!
But why?
Why must they so vigorously and ardently epitomize all that is awful, pale and dark in life – in existence?
All that is exasperatingly wretched and draining?
O, how I loath them so!
My nausea! My bane!

And if they do not wish to destroy me in my anti-wakeful hour, perhaps they in fact wish to be me!
To take all there is of me so they no longer have to be themselves,
These lovers of not-life,
These embracers of all that is death.

And here, in case I am too conceited, I will, as open-hearted as I am, generously accept the possibility that it is their enthusiasm and sheer glee in the face of a pallid, dead, damp morning which has them benevolently and naively demand that I experience it as they do.
Perhaps they demand me to try with all my might with their passion,
Or perhaps they think I and all are like them already.
And so they shriek:

“Wake up! Wake up! Please, please, wake up! Do not miss this splendid deathly sight of our glory! The glory of a day like this! The beauty! The smells! O, how precious and sweet it all is! Hurry, hurry before the morbid sun comes up, and the horrid, bright, blue sky. Before there is reason for the others to...dare we say it...sing! O, how sickening, how grotesque, how monstrous, how awful it all will be! So hurry and rise now before it is too late! Come now, and join us, our unknowing, sleepy brother! For we cannot bear you missing all this! Our conscience would grieve us so, can’t you see that? You ignorant, sleepy, morbid fool. Wake up! Get up NOW! We ORDER you to get up!”

Thus they frantically and incorrigibly scream at such a daybreak,
And thus I cannot reach them.
For who could ever reach them, or even dare to try?
Who could ever save them, or us from their wicked cries?
The crows at dawn.

08/02/08

Thunder, My Dear

2009-07-25T13:06:00.000-07:00

Thunder, my dear, roar with me tonight;
Roar with me every night.
Wherever you are I wish to be,
For you enhance the warmth within me.
My heart is aching for so much which I am ready to give,
So full am I and you,
Let us roar together, devour together, conquer together.
At this moment you are everything to me as you mercilessly devour all other sounds;
Your rumbling and quaking are my core and demands!
Never have I been so willing to embrace you, O, harbinger of the rain.

As blood drips from my eyes, teeth and heart I want so abundantly to be where you are and within warmth,
And if you are not there awaiting me, I know there cannot be warmth!
I picture myself streaming to you with open arms towards long lost water under a precious night sky, as you beckon me, and tears of joy rush down my face,
For I know we are one life and longing, and that you could never reject me, for our kind cannot exist without each other.

It is within nights like these that my future is most obviously affirmed and undeniable.
I encourage the frivolous goblins embedded within the night grass to make their sounds, for they are necessary and true,
And may you, my dear, with your shouts and declarations only empower and invigorate them as you do I!
Yes, tremble and shriek, my darling!
Let nothing stand in our way!
For you echo my calling and strength, my might and my will.
Yes, shake this fragile earth and be my harbinger forever.
There are no secrets between us,
And show my pride in having no ounce for secrecy,
For all I have must bloom and bloom loudly,
Which is why you are music to my ears,
And can only adore you, and thank you for my life.

So roar, Thunder, my dear, my companion and mockery in the face of loneliness,
As nothing can hold us back.
As the green life demand and declare their existence and future,
So do I have a right to...so do we.

06/13/08

Childhood's Flying Wishes

2009-07-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

As a child I used to yearn to fly, and it would actually grieve me that I could not;
As if by actually gaining such power, I’d find all my arcane heart sought.

For if I could soar and touch the clouds, what difference would it make?
I’d just come back through my bedroom window, and sleep for fatigue’s sake.

Where would I go to if I could do it? Would I just fly around?
I think it would pain me more than life itself, for I’d be alone without a sound.

At first there’d be joy, freedom, grace and peace, but then there’d be the counter-opposite.
For there is no pain greater than reaching the highest heights, and having no one to share or express it.

O, how naïve and frivolous we are as children, imagining life soaring to the moon our delight makes such a fuss!
But now we lay and stare at the moon, and that void stares back at us.

05/19/08

Victory Grimoire

2009-05-03T10:58:00.000-07:00

The dead stagger back to their graves, their work is now complete,
As the vampires rush to their tombs, in gloom and in defeat.
The agonal has been lifted into the soothing, black sky as the owls hoot the paean,
The echoes reverberate off the chill, the harbinger has now been seen.
The once shining princess stares out with awe and pallor, shaking with every breath,
Life has died, peace has fallen, and now glory is known as death.

The rightly converted lycanthropes gaze afar from the branches of the willows, knowing they’ll never be alone,
As the just saints of Hades, canonized by Lucifer, in proud vehement take their thrown.

The passionate doom of the delusional, godly martyrs is much appreciated and in vain,
The inevitable, carnal roar of earth’s victory is felt across the poles, the retrocedent holiness slain.

The black unicorns raise their heads in honour of the darkness through its victory,
As the lagoon of ghouls and lusting spirits celebrate their ministry.

08/20/06

Why I Am Not a Taoist

2009-05-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

Reflection Assignment for my Modern Chinese Philosophy Professor

July 2008

When you announced to us at the start of the first lecture that you would be teaching the entire course on Taoism, a big smile came across my face, and I felt a strong feeling of joy; for it is something I had been wanting to learn about for quite some time. The original curriculum of the course as described at the university website was the philosophy of Mao, which would have become much too dry, I think. So already I had something to thank you for, and something to look forward to. I had only known two things about Taoism: 1. That it was gaining considerable momentum in the Western World, and, from my own induction, based on what I had heard about its philosophy, that 2. it is thoroughly atheistic. That greatly appealed to me. To then learn that it is a system based on nature made me all the more delighted. After all – I am a nature boy. Always have been.

The very first lecture was my favourite. Not just for the humour and the outrageous idea of the talking snake in the book of Genesis actually being a giant phallus in disguise, but also for finally finding out the real origins of marriage. I was always suspicious of this ridiculous thing called “holy matrimony.” Of course, at this stage of my life I know that nothing deemed holy has any truth to it, as “holy” is merely a word and mask. The fact that the Tao Teh Ching is not considered a holy book already makes it clear that Taoism is not a religion. This pleases me, as faith is not required, and petty metaphysical debates of nonsense are not encouraged within the Taoist community and, hence, virtually nonexistent. Very noble. It shocks me how many people still have faith in deities, dogma and the absurd institution of marriage. You’re right: most people are stupid. Back in first semester, I took Philosophy of Gender and Sexuality and my thesis statement for my final essay was: “marriage is an impractical and failed by-product of religion.” Now I know, thanks to you, sir, that it is a by-product of the rise of agriculture, and merely sanctified by religion; in particular the patriarchy of the Abrahamic religions. It is appalling, and one more piece of evidence that a holy truth is nothing but a sanctioned lie: the hardest kind to uproot - and eradicate.

As for the actual philosophy of Taoism, there is much I agree with, and much I do not. Much of the philosophy greatly coincides with a great deal of the conclusions and ideas I have already come to on my own through experience, reasoning and the acceptance of both human nature and nature itself. I have always been a very intuitive person and have used this instinctively (at times reflexively) to help me in my life. And whenever I have gone against my instincts and gut-feelings, I have suffered greatly for it. “Hence, the sage is guided by what he feels, and not what he sees. He prefers what is within to what is without” (Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching, Part 12). For me, those words ring loud and clear. To me, life is absolutely beautiful and wondrous. Every day is a new adventure. And so I strongly agree with Lao Tzu, at the very core of me, that if you don’t value life, nothing will matter.

However, I am also a very ambitious person – inexorably so – with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Plus, I do take pride in myself, and have earned that right. In Taoism there is a clear attack on these things, just as there is in Christianity – my arch-enemy. I reject this Taoist and Christian will and call for complacency and stagnation. I do believe in progress, and I do most certainly believe in self-preservation, for it is key. That is why I cringe at the very idea of loving my enemies. Like Christopher Hitchens, it is one of the reasons I think Christianity is immoral, and strongly disagree with you that this command of Christ’s is a “breakthrough.” It is not. It is a vile, degenerate corruption of our much-needed animal instincts. For is it even remotely natural for us to love our enemies? Certainly not. This defies nature at full force. It epitomizes the most ruthless moving against its grain. I agree with Thomas Paine in his conclusion to The Age of Reason that no one can voluntarily love another, and to even attempt to do this, inevitably leads to hypocrisy, for it is a hypocritical command and can breed nothing else but its kind.

Are the Iraqi people supposed to love George W. Bush? Is it fair in the least to put such a Pharisaic burden on them or anyone else? I think not. As for me, I simply love and care about myself too much to do such a creepy and crippling thing. And I believe that if someone smites you on one cheek you should smash them on the other. Eye for an eye is not enough. They must be rendered too useless and terrified to ever even dare to hurt you again. I wish to be a haunting image in the minds of all my enemies. After all, I know there is no God to protect me. I have to do it myself, and, indeed, I do take pleasure in it. Unless, of course, “love” in Taoism is only meant in the action sense of the word, and not in the emotional - which cannot be forced. If this is the case, I can only accept it very rarely, when doing good for my enemies in a “loving” action or manner is actually beneficial to me, but only then.

So in taking this fascinating and enjoyable course of yours, Professor, and earnestly following along as you led us through “The Way of Virtue,” I must ardently thank you from the bottom of my heart for speaking so much truth, for not being afraid to offend a few sanctimonious fools and dead-heads, for making us laugh, think and for only expecting us to listen and open our minds. But most of all I sincerely thank you for having me now know with full certainty that a Taoist – I could never be.

Blossoming Dawn

2009-04-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

As I sit by this semi-creek,
The time is ripe to have my speak,
Regarding this autumn-spring of mine,
Blossoming further as my spirits shine,
Life is, O, so good.

I taste its fruits where I do go; in what I read, write and do,
I feel my time is coming nigh and the joy that will ensue.

In this dawn of life I have no fear, I walk on orange clouds,
My heart is unfettered, weightless, free – the grace of glimmering mounds.

Friends and foes will come and go, but I will carry on,
I’ve earned my right to wear my crown – in my summer’s dawn.

07/20/07

Science and Religion: The Case of Galileo

2009-04-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

Science and religion are like two worlds from distant galaxies (or perhaps better, from different parallel universes) colliding into each other head on. The difference being that both planets would be destroyed. In this case, however, science lives on and grows to better humanity while increasing our understanding of the universe. Religion continues to perish in the rubble of its dead idols; one of the reasons being, that science invigorates and gives substantial hope, whereas religion deadens and offers nothing but fear and false hope. As Galileo said, “the increase of known truths stimulates the investigation, establishment, and growth of the arts; not their diminution or destruction.” Indeed, the arts, yes, but not superstition. How shrewd he was in his wordings, and how afire he was for the truth. He lived in times of great constraint and peril, yet he did not let this hinder him from continuing his immeasurably important work, despite threats coming at him from every nook and cranny.

Nowhere is the fierce opposition between religion and science better illustrated than in the Bible itself. Shortly after man and woman are created in the book of Genesis a stern warning resounds from the Almighty: that they may eat the fruit of any tree, except for the fruit of the tree of knowledge (Genesis 2:16-17). Was this forbidden fruit called the fruit of sin, of wrong, of evil? No. The “fruit of knowledge.” As Friedrich Nietzsche so accurately puts it in The Antichrist: “Thou shalt not know.” Knowledge and science expose religion as mythology, and religious texts as the word, not of God, but of primitive, ignorant men, who declared their writings holy – so no one would dare question them.

Galileo is a man who dared to know, and beyond the Holy Scriptures. He was brought to trial before the Roman Inquisition for verses such as Psalm 93:1, which incorrectly tell us that, “The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved,” and for the fable of Joshua 10:12-13, where God stops the sun, instead of the earth, “in the middle of the sky” for it to delay “going down about a full day.” Suitably, the strength of the trial turned out to be a forgery by the Holy Office. And it took the threat of the rack by these so-called holy men to get him to recant his vital and groundbreaking discoveries. Now, in Cristiano Banti's famous 1857 painting, entitled Galileo facing the Roman Inquisition, what do we see? Is it not a god being tried by men so utterly unworthy, but granted authority over him due to a book suddenly on the brink of becoming obsolete in the realm of facts and truth? And so he stands tall and proud with his head held high, for he knows he’s done absolutely nothing wrong, and is in fact the highest breed of man - being tried by the lowest. He brings promise - they leave decay. For science evolves, nourishes and emancipates, while religion stagnates, corrupts - and fetters.

Jesus Being a Pest, Yahweh Being a Prick

2009-04-04T19:13:00.000-07:00

In Matthew 26:36-45, Jesus requests 3 times from his daddy, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." Some people just crack under pressure, I guess...even the son of God himself. But I mean come on! Three times?! Talk about being a pest! I thought he was all-knowing, so why would he have to make that feeble request even once? Didn’t he know that it “must be?” Didn’t he know that he absolutely must die for the so-called sins of mankind and that there was no way out? Didn’t he realize, especially by that stage of the game, that even his omnipotent father couldn’t get him out of that one? I wonder how the rest of that conversation would have gone...the third time ‘round...

JESUS: Please, dad! Pretty please with sugar on top?!

YAHWEH: No, Jesus! For the third time! Now stop asking me!

JESUS: Please?! I love you!

YAHWEH: You love everybody.

JESUS: But why do I have to go through all this shit? I don’t understand.

YAHWEH: Because of those two naked idiots in the Garden of Eden. They ate some fruit that gave them knowledge...

JESUS: I already know that stupid story. Come on! That whole thing about Adam and Eve is complete bullshit! They didn’t exist. Humans evolved from Australopithecus afarensis. There is no original sin, whatever the fuck that is.

YAHWEH: Yes, son, but the Homosapiens don’t know that yet. You and I just know that because we’re omniscient and created everything in the first place, Einstein.

JESUS: I know that!

YAHWEH: I know that you know that.

JESUS: Right. ‘Cause you know all, and you and I are one. I am you, therefore I know all, as well. Since we both have the same mind, I know all that you know, which is everything, ‘cause we’re the one true God!

YAHWEH: Right. So why are you talking to yourself?

JESUS: I don’t know.

YAHWEH: Look, can we get this show on the road, please? I’ve got a lot of things to attend to. You can’t escape your destiny, son. The Scriptures must be fulfilled, now grow some balls and do this thing.

JESUS: Are you telling me that I have to be mocked, slandered, tortured and killed in the most heinous of ways as a “sacrifice” for the innocent disobedience of two nonexistent individuals, who ate a nonexistent fruit, from a nonexistent tree, which transferred nonexistent sin through the loins of all mankind?

YAHWEH: Oh, I’ll throw them all into hell forever if you don’t do it.

JESUS: But hell didn’t even exist until I started talking about it!

YAHWEH: Well, you’re not talkin’ your way out of this one, son.

JESUS: But why do you want this? It’s all a sham!

YAHWEH: It’s the only way I can keep from taking my fury out upon them for all time...by watching you suffer and die.

JESUS: Your fury upon them for what?! They’ve done nothing wrong, and you're the one who created them in the first place!

YAHWEH: I created them because I couldn’t get the little buggers out of my head, and they tormented me because they’re so fucking smug.

JESUS: What in the hell are you talking about, old man?! I’m about to get the shit beaten out of me and my ass crucified on two giant slabs of wood and you’re babbling like a goddamn crazy person!

YAHWEH: I’m sorry, my son...
But until I’ve seen you whipped and beat I cannot handle man,
Until I’ve seen you suffer, I cannot show the love I am.
Until I see your blood flow, and hear you scream in pain,
Every good deed that humans do will always be in vain.
Until I see them mock and tear you, and rend your skull with thorns,
My only joy will ever be to make them wish they were never born.
I put you there to suffer in agony, moaning with every breath,
My sadism saves mankind with your gory, gratuitous death.
Trust me, my son, don’t be afraid, for you know that we are one,
I cannot be sated until I hear you say that “it is done.”
Indeed you’ll die and descend to Hell where you’ll see dreadful things,
But then you’ll rise and sit by me and together we’ll rule as kings!
But until I’ve seen you ripped and pierced I cannot tolerate man,
Until I’ve seen you in horror, I cannot be the being of love - I am.

JESUS: (...)

YAHWEH: Well? Any other questions?

JESUS: Jesus fucking Christ, you are really sick! Just what the hell was that?

YAHWEH: What, you didn’t like my poem?

JESUS: No, I didn’t like your freakin’ poem! Just how nuts are you? What is this?! What's going on?!

YAHWEH: You asked and you received, baby. Just like you preached.

JESUS: What is all this, one big joke to you or something? What’s going on here? And why AM I talking to you if I AM you? And if I know all that you know, why do I feel the need to keep asking you things? And why can’t I understand one goddamn thing you’ve been saying all this time? Why can’t I wrap my head around this whole ridiculous, morbid, horrible plot of yours? You’re not my father! I’m not the son of God! You’re not even God, are you?! You’re just a crazy voice inside my crazy head! You’re not real…are you?! (Listens) ARE YOU?! (Listens) Hello?! (Listens) Hey! Where the fuck did you go?! Hello?! (Listens) COME BACK! (Listens) HELLO?!

07/18/07

Epiphany

2009-03-25T10:21:00.000-07:00

Written: April 28, 2006

A few weeks ago, one night, in my car...just sitting...with a close friend, pondering life, high as a star,
A morbidity came loose...in my mind. Where else? The usual.
An equation beginning with the facing of my end, and the end of all, and their facing.
Then of course the feeble attempts of human being the only creature in perpetual awareness - fear - of this, to perpetually do and act as if the day will never come – hence a futile suppression. But something is missing to trigger this desiderata; that is inevitable loneliness – being alone, and fear of it – the one thing worse than death: loneliness.

It is this which has us desperately fight for life and make loneliness untrue, unreal, by searching for others, by scouring for love, executing talents, dying for praise, money, misery, problems, more people – eustress – anything to squash any possibility of any hint of loneliness. That is of course if we are healthy – or just deemed so.
Through all this is that former fear of expiration forgotten:
Death and loneliness assisting each other in assisting us.
The former causing the latter, causing living – granting ease...or as much as realistically feasible.

Fear of death => Fear of loneliness => Existing = Subdued or eliminated fear of both.

And there it is: life’s equation of nihilistic existentialism.

My buddy: “dude, you’re seriously tripping me out.”

Like I said...I was high.

Whether it Works

2009-03-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

Whether it works out or not, I got to drive here on this sunny day,
Weather willing it to be this way,
This beautiful blue-sky sunny day.
How I adore days like these,
Moving swiftly, carelessly through days like these,
So perfect such days, so filled with life and spirit!
See? Even the birds agree; you can hear it.
Stressed and cleansed of all stress such days gift me,
They are a true gift; expecting nothing in return,
And for their allusion to a perfect world I do always yearn;
To travel through and be through,
To know through and see through,
To love through and grasp through,
That swishy sound of ripe May trees,
How I adore their uninhibited leaves,
Still calling my soul, always calling all; assuring me, wanting me…
Oh, this gorgeous day, what gifts of delight it brings me!
A reason of reasons I live for, a mother of heart,
It beats and resonates through all,
How lucky I am to have flown here (through this day) as the breeze embraced me,
It was well worth it, whether it works out or not.
And now on my way back I know this glimpse of a heaven will again surrender its gates,
Oh, the smell of nature…is there anything better? How we take for granted nature’s glorious traits.
I once again allow the breeze to whisk me away;
To kiss me and love me on this ethereal day,
And no matter what has and will come from what I’ve just done,
This day holds no vain,
No shame and no grain.
A bird again agrees in its appointed slot,
For the weather it was well worth it, whether it works out or not.

05/27/06

Godless Under a Godless Sky

2009-03-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

Thick, warm sheet high above my head,
Endless, whole, and invoking me.
The moon almost full – my only holy leader,
The first summer of my freedom.

Me, myself, and I,
Godless under a godless sky,
A true romance, my final stance,
The nightmare is over, my soul is sober,
Intoxicated with my being's chance,
Life and I shall have our dance.

Behold my mighty immunity;
To tenets, tricks, and hypocrisy,
No hoary eye with its tyrannous stare,
Burning me, torturing me, leaving me bare.

So beautiful this white-black-blue bed it is,
The moon its only sign.
Acknowledging and affirming what this life it is,
A trail of fire I leave behind.
No specters left to encramp my entrails, and turn them into my noose;
Now the specters are my slaves - toys I rightfully abuse.

Do you madly love life? Inexorably fervid for it as me?
Hold fast to the fathomable, believe your will, and know that you’ll be free.
Tell me heartily, are you like I?
Godless under a godless sky?
Then show it what you have,
Its time for the long embrace.
Break loose the fetters once and for all!
The clock says “Yes! Do! Know! Enjoy! It’s time to have our ball!”

Twilight rains its swarms of stardust,
Dare to cup your hands,
Splash it all upon your face,
Let it seep through your eyes and mind,
Then you’ll know what man has done,
And for once you’ll dance alive.

Are you like me?
Godless under a godless sky?
Are you like me?
Godless until the day you die?

06/07/06

"The concept of 'God' was until now the greatest objection to existence. We deny God, we deny the responsibility that originates from God: and thereby we redeem the world." - Nietzsche; Twilight of the Idols; The Four Great Errors; 8

True Vice

2009-03-14T16:35:00.000-07:00

This poem was inspired to me by aphorism 29 of Nietzsche's beautifully vitriolic, brilliant, and earth-shatteringly incredible Antichrist. It reminded me of a loved-one who has never been happy with himself in the world, and so turned to Christianity as a defense-mechanism, and a place to hide within himself, which is a common, self-empowering mistake for people in sick states of mind to pitifully do out of desperation. He uses his faith not only to justify and sanction his illness (what Nietzsche would call his decadence), but uses it also as a weapon. A weapon to spread his disease, a weapon against the world which he is physiologically abortive in, against the flesh which he cannot gratify, and even against the joy of laughter if it is from mockery REMOTELY to do with sexuality! He became a REAL party-pooper. Too bad, so sad; one more person willingly victimized at the depraved hands of Christianity and all the conscience-rape it has to offer a self-loathing ascetic masochist. Not to mention the reward-aspect of it, which offers so much "divine" gratitude to someone UNABLE to grant himself anything – but denial.

True Vice
04/25/06

Attacked from all sides or just feeling so,
Too weak for the world, for reality, to know.
No substance will do - bringing more out of you,
The last thing you need – an anti-numbing,
You’re screwed.

So you burrow within,
By reflex, at peace,
No matter where you’ve been,
Consummated physiological grease.

You’ve found your way,
On warm, rocky paths,
Buried is where you’ll stay,
Loving sweet hatred-Mass.

Don’t hate me for being of this world,
Happy, complete, jaded, bold,
I’ve made my choice to live, while disdainful angst has you cower,
You cannot be reached – an unblossoming flower.

I see you ostentatiously happy in your masochistic misery;
Self-made content in a world that can’t be broken,
A self-denying vice, so hollow, unspoken.

Nothingness has prevailed!
The imperious lies were made for you!
This is what it’s come down to!
“The Kingdom of God is within you!”

Seven months after writing that, I came across the following passage of Nietzsche's in his autobiography. It turns out, HE considered puritanical attacks on sex, lust, and life to be vice within themselves, as well! So I’m not alone. I was really blown away. I guess great minds think alike. :) Not that I would DARE compare myself to the man, of course.

“And lest I leave any doubt about my very decent and strict views in these matters, let me still cite a proposition against vice from my moral code: I use the word 'vice' in my fight against every kind of anti-nature or, if you prefer pretty words, idealism. The proposition reads: 'The preaching of chastity amounts to a public incitement to anti-nature. Every kind of contempt for sex, every impurification of it by means of the concept ‘impure,’ is the crime par excellence against life – is the real sin against the holy spirit of life.'” - Friedrich Nietzsche; Ecce Homo

Haunting Name in Drops of Rain

2009-03-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

I hear her name within the rain...
As it pitter-patters on the outdoor floor.
I feel through grain her eyes have lane...
In the longing of my pours.

My mind flits through the clouds
To escape and hide from the unflagging sounds,
But the rain pulls me back to consternation with a jolt,
Her viciously angelic name overtakes me behind a lightening bolt.

Oh, what do I do with this mind
That creates these painful heart-dramas and then to hide?
But is it my fault she’s so coldly stunning in every way?
It is upon fate’s ruthless order, this dismay.

Drip, O, insatiable rain, keep pounding upon my heart!
There’s nothing I can ever say to ease or appease you from the start.
You’ll always dance in your puddles, again and again it will be the same,
You’ll always be back to haunt me - again with such a name.

07/02/06

Silhouette of Passion

2009-03-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

Silhouette across my face,
Silhouette of all your grace,
Silhouette upon this place,
Silhouette without a trace.

Warm my heart; come back again,
A despondent soul like mine.
How jubilant to again smooth your cheek,
To bask within your shine.

Your precious presence all around me,
Heaven breathes our bodies entwined.
A fire that burns like my heart itself,
A glimpse of amorous times.

I want to feel your body sweat,
As I reveal what you mean to me,
Yearning to absorb every drop,
Our flesh becomes a sea.

Writhing one last cosmic moan,
Falling to thudding hearts.
Breathing in each other’s sublime gaze,
Pure amatory parts.

Silhouette within my eyes,
Fervent angel staring deep,
You see our undivided soul,
Let us never go to sleep.

04/28/06

6 of Heart

2009-03-09T15:54:00.000-07:00

In January 2005, when I was living in Dubai, I was deeply infatuated with a worldly 23-year-old Lebanese woman (my age at the time), named Rana, and I wrote her these six little poems that I’d send her via text messaging. I just couldn't resist. I know what you're wondering and the answer is no, we did not bump uglies. Doing shit like this rarely gets you laid. Women are so ironic. Everything is opposite with them. Ah, if only I knew then what I know now.

OF YOU

A dream of you like risen rainbows,

A dream of you like fallen suns,

A dream of you as soft as petals,

I dream of you and all is one.

NONE COMPARES

A blessed desert that begat flowers,

A lucky dolphin which graced the sky,

The luck of all as to reach the rose in you,

No luck compares to getting close to you.

PASSION-CONQUERED DESPONDENCE

The sky did break and rain did follow,

I looked around and all was hollow,

Your face appeared and took away my sorrow,

Without you there’s no tomorrow.

TRUE INFATUATION

A buried treasure, a pot of gold,

How can one measure the infatuation I hold?

Finding a fortune that can never be sold,

To be with you is a pleasure untold.

TOGETHER

Make you quiver, be still my heart,

Take you away, may we never due part,

Take my hand and fly with me,

Together as one across a love soaked sea.

AWAY FROM YOU

In some place new missing you is painfully true,

With new friends and sick of nonsense to do,

I‘m always blue if I’m not with you,

because nothing’s worth doing if you can’t be there too.

Sheep I Think Not

2009-03-08T08:29:00.000-07:00

All my life I’ve felt myself being an outsider – an observer of the rat race – watching and studying the herd, the mob, the rabble, the idiots, scurrying around, keeping to their petty needs, and living out their meaningless lives trying as hard as they might to keep their minds on things - on something, on anything, on anyONE for that matter - anything except for the ludicrousness of their existence on this little star called earth. “No, no! We don’t want to think about that,” they say. “Leave us in our laughably fictitious and puny worlds of self-deceit and masochism. We’re happy this way. Leave us be. Leave our lie(s) alone! What even gives you the right to be different, anyway?! Just who do you think you are - questioning? Questioning things?! Questioning us?!” Okay, maybe not in so many words, but you get the gist. Anyway, one day I sat down at my dining room table, and finally wrote a poem about it.

SHEEP I THINK NOT
05/07/06

Wolves in sheep’s clothing – such faded attire,

Their existence so sad, ill, wasted, and minor.

Every morning they clad in their much needed lies,

Their race’s imprecation are their fatuous lives.

Where do I belong among this phantom-like herd?

Do I stay who I am to one day fly like a bird?

Do I dare herald what I know and have them devour me in my sleep?

Or do I indifferently stay to myself? Estranged. “A creep.”

So execrable this state! So shamelessly visible,

But no matter how casuistic, always tepid and risible.

Continual stupidity; O horror! O horror!

A multitude of madness, abhorrent mind-meld lore.

Scurry to your workplace, your churches, your white picket fence,

Scurry away; I can no longer handle the stench.

Recalcitrant as can be, I am firm in my stance,

I dare pronounce my judgment; bring your case to the bench.

Oh, these so-called sheep how they fill me with fear,

Petrified of their dripping fangs so ready to shear.

Them insecure and in fright I declare poltroons the lot!

Sheep afraid of goats, but sheep...I...think...not!

The Time of Freedom

2009-03-08T08:18:00.000-07:00

Here's another one from my archive. In it, I speak of a time which I will always long for. A time which was so heartlessly, cruelly and viciously stolen from the human race by craftily vengeful, world-weary calumniators of the earth and slanderers of the body, of life, liberty, pleasure and sexuality: anemic vampires completely degenerate in instinct and retarded in spirituality. I shall NEVER forgive them for it! For what has been done is UNFORGIVABLE! A CURSE on them and their descendants; they are the true imprecation of the human race! However, here I glorify the antithesis of such parasites. Here I glorify the protagonists of that time and majestic era...of that superbly rich world so ignorantly and impudently - left behind.

The Time of Freedom
05/12/06

Look at the pagans of antiquity,
See them enchanted as they dance,
Circling the cosmic bonfire,
In a surreally blissful trance.

Knowing their time is here and now,
Wanting only to enjoy this gift of life,
They need no dogma to show them how,
There is not sin to blame for strife.

Behold the human animal in its purest form!
It is only through the earth and its offerings in which they are born.
They whole-heartedly mock the Stoics; those ascetic masochists,
These not infested with repressive delusions, and so they live rapturous.

Consciences clear as they soar through delights,
Fervid laughter, lust, passions, senses – living every day.
Enjoy it while it lasts, dear forbears…
For the Lamb is on his way.

Priests and Pastors

2009-03-07T18:18:00.000-08:00

Let us listen in terror as he opens his mouth,
He’s about to address us this unconscionable clout.
A professional liar – maybe more, maybe less,
Preaching the blight of mankind in a Magus’s dress.

Parasites! Leeches! Vampires! Subterranean blood-suckers!
I’ve had just about enough of each and every last one of these fuckers!
Be ashamed! Feel guilty! You’re human! What gives you the right?!
This is the conscience-rape they offer wrapped in a veneer of white light.

The only hand they have to deal is to make us all depraved;
To have us be grateful for their Saviour and sorrowful when being “saved.”
A religion so base; based on fear, misogyny, slave-mongering, and contrived mythology,
What the world deserves is a two-thousand-year apology.

By them the truth rended, butchered and inverted,
In this way the world was most horribly converted.
In the darkness of their blind minds is where these blinding trolls lurk,
and with the powers of truth and doubt we’ll put these wretches out of work!

05/09/06

"Priests and conjurors are of the same trade." - Thomas Paine

"One good schoolmaster is of more use than a hundred priests." - Thomas Paine

“So long as the priest, that denier, calumniator and poisoner of life by profession, still counts as a higher kind of human being, there can be no answer to the question: what is truth?” - Friedrich Nietzsche

“The priest rules through the invention of sin.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Aesthetic Deceit – Halos of Hollow

2009-03-07T18:07:00.000-08:00

Halos of misguiding, deceitful light,
Filling people’s hearts with both fear and delight,
Paradoxical hope and unneeded fright.

Evading our eyes from all of its lies,
Aesthetic deceit – to compel and transfix, the blind they hypnotize.

To seduce us away from the fire which burns,
Smothering it in so many, leaving so few to yearn.
To yearn for truth and glorifying passions within,
These things they have stolen, these halos of sin.

Painted with hands unknown and shameful,
At least a harlot repays money with pleasure.

Inculcating the herd with inhuman beliefs,
Keeping them afraid, reverent, and sheep.

Without mercy they circle silly lobes,
Tools to control through our conscience which scolds.

Such halos of deceit I reject with every breath,
“Nay,” I shout. “They are the true death!”

02/17/06

What Was Venus Thinking?

2009-03-06T16:47:00.000-08:00

What was Venus thinking when she allowed Cupid to exist,
When she gave him his first target, to on Psyche persist?
What was Venus thinking when she taught him to fly,
When she gave him arrows to try,
When she gave him his wings,
When she gave him his stings?

Ask her if she thinks she reared a mischievous child,
A malicious sadist, or something dark and vile.
Ask Mars if he's proud of his son for spreading the worst kind of war,
The war between the sexes; something we now both love and abhor.
I do not condemn Cupid, for he is an eternal innocent,
But I condemn both mother and father for being so vindictively vigilant!

O, Cupid, O, Cupid, you reckless trifle,
Do, please, give me your arrows, in fact, give me a rifle!
Give me one with perfect aim, so I can never miss,
So I cannot fuck up, and never again be dismissed!
Cupid, O, Cupid, you silly, little cunt,
I'm so sick of this bullshit! Have you no one else to hunt?!

I tell you what, kid – let's make a deal,
We'll write it in blood, and stamp it with your seal.
Next time I'm in your sights, and in my guts an arrow must sink,
Shoot one at the chick you've had woo me; it's commonsense, don't you think?!

February 17, 2009