first year of college is half way through, or so i hope to believe. did i find some radical truth within the confines of the brick and mortar system? no, but i never expected to. violins and falling leaves aside, college is simply evolution, not the womb for a personal renovation. unfortunately my time here now is limited, as there are just too many tangents that pull otherwise. but from time to time, indeed i do visit.
humanity is both a gift and a curse. i often struggle betwixt it and a will to power to something beyond it. but lines between the depraved and the divine are often blurred, or so it often seems to me. perhaps i am blind. perhaps i see too much. joyce is an icon, and slowly but surely, dostoevsky and gaddis are becoming icons as well.
religion and politics are strange, twisted and ultimately self-destructive things, so i stray from both; choosing instead to pursue what one might call an artistic purity in isolation from it. so if i'm somewhat not interested in certain world events or happenings, this is usually the cause.
my beliefs toward spirtuality and existence are generally my own. i draw influence from many things without one in paticular, as is the case with most facets of my being. it's a long and drawn out thing, and best left for the personal discussion, rather than the blatant listing.
existence is balance, and therefor, i do not believe in absolutes (relative, anyway). when it comes to what is classically defined as good and evil, these things are best left to perception and taken away from what would be considered the mortal definition. as most that would consider themselves beyond mortality, why limit to mortal perceptions and rules?
i prefer my solitude to any social function, as there is little anyone else can provide for me better than what i can. others are more oft to become lost following my self-indulgent and sometimes loosely based philsophical ramblings. human touch, while at once a beautiful and torturous thing, is fleeting. while seemingly required, i am still not sure whether to solidify it as such. i am a person usually layered in silence, so i do apologise before hand should this ever offend anybody.
the path of the divine is that which one beyond should walk. to transcend. to become light. forsake the failings of humanity and become that which it can not. to be immortal in focus and legend. to define what is undefinable.
however.
to wallow. to live, love, be and believe (as rogue so put it). to be human. to feel happiness, pain, pride, and regret. to see frailty, to live it. to laugh. to cry. to help. to be helped. to indulge in the short and turbulent life in which you opened your eyes to. to experience. to worship your humanity, for it is yours. because it bonds you to everyone else on this planet. because without each other, humanity is nothing.
this is the struggle. this is the duality. the nihilist and the humanist. the light and the dark. the above and the below. balance is necessary. existence, no matter what the vepid may say, is no where near futile. and despite the broken and failing eyes of the insecure, only shitty if you allow it to be. perhaps that statement is a matter of arrogance on my part, perhaps not. but the will to power for most is immense. if they only knew they had it to tap.
things are rarely as they seem. this is a world built on and of illusions. pick through the layers. discover that which lies beneath. the search for individual truth is unending, but at least this one knows what to look for. the truth in everything around me. beauty.
Jenseits von Gut und Bose
books: (at moment)
ulysses
notes from underground
the trial
a frolic of his own
agape agape
the complete poetry and selected prose of john donne
portrait of the artist as a young man
heart of darkness
metamorphasis
(slowly, bur surely) thus spake zarathustra
joyce
gaddis
camus
nietzsche
dostoevsky
conrad
kafka
movies: (top ones anyway)
magnolia
seven
donnie darko
frailty
kill bill (1&2)
the devils advocate
25th hour
boogie nights
american history x
fight club
the english patient
airheads
there's something about mary
me, myself and irene
old school
starship troopers
super troopers
blow
music: (this one will be lengthy)
neurosis
claire voyant
ulver
esoteric
velvet acid christ
isis
godspeed you! black emperor
a silver mt zion
tiamat
type o negative
assemblage 23
team sleep
the for carnation
nine inch nails
antimatter
shape of despair
deftones
sigur ros
the razor skyline
radiohead
tool
the cruxshadows
coldplay
evoken
arcturus
today is the day
a perfect circle
diary of dreams
bethany curve
the autumns
slowdive
mira
children of bodom
orgy
wumpscut
wolfsheim
hungry lucy
collide
in strict confidence
explosions in the sky
katatonia
meshuggah
star of ash
stella luna
emperor
notes from underground
chapter IV
fyodor dostoevsky
"Ha, ha ha! you will be finding enjoyment in toothache next," you cry, with a laugh.
"well? even in toothache there is enjoyment," i answer. i had a toothache for a whole month and i know there is. in that case, of course, people are not spiteful in silence, but moan; but they are not candid moans, they are malignant moans, and the malignancy is the whole point. the enjoyment of the sufferer finds expression in those moans; if he did not feel enjoyment in them he would not moan. it is a good example, gentlemen, and i will develop it. those moans express in the first place all the aimlessness of your pain, which is so humiliating to your consciousness; the whole legal system of nature on which you spit disdainfully, of course, but from which you suffer at the same while she does not. they express the consciousness that you have no enemy to punish, but that you have pain; the consciousness that in spite of all possible Vagenheims you are in complete slavery to your teeth; that if some one wishes it, your teeth will leave off aching, and if he does not, they will go on aching another three months; and that finally if you are still contumacious and still protest, all that is left you for your own gratification is to thrash yourself or beat your wall with your fist as hard as you can, and absolutely nothing more. well these mortal insults, these jeers on the part of some unknown end at last in an enjoyment which sometimes reaches the highest degree of voluptuousness. i ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans of an educated man of the nineteenth century suffering from toothache, on the second or third day of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned the first day, that is, not simply because he has a toothache, not just as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and European civilization, a man who is "divorced from the soil and one's national origins," as they express it now-a-days. his moans become nasty, disgustingly malignant, and go on for whole days and nights. and of course he knows himself that he is doing himself no sort of good with his moans; he knows better than any one that he is only lacerating and harassing himself and the others for nothing; he knows that even the audience before whom he is making his efforts, and his whole family, listen to him with loathing, do not put a ha'porth of faith in him, and inwardly understand that he might moan differently, more simply without trills and flourishes, and that he is only amusing himself like that from illphumour, from malignancy. well, in all these recognitions and disgraces it is that there liesa voluptuous pleasure. as though he would say: "I am worrying you, I am lacerating your hearts, I am keeping every one in the house awake. well, stay awake then, you, too, feel every minutes that i have a toothache. i am not a hero to you now, as i tried to seem before, but simply a nasty person, an imposter. well, so be it, then! i am very glad tha tyou see through me. it is nasty for you to hear my despicable moans: well, let it be nasty; here i will let you have a nastier flourish in a minute..." you do not understand even now, gentlemen? no, it seems our development and our consciousness must go further to understand all the intracacies of this pleasure. you laugh? delighted. my jests, gentlemen, are of course in bad taste, jerky, involved, lacking self-confidence. but of course that is because i do not respect myself. can a man of perception respect himself at all?
