“True, by this time it was not a blank space any more. It had got filled since my boyhood with rivers and lakes and names. It had ceased to be a blank space of delightful mystery—a white patch for a boy to dream gloriously over. It had become a place of darkness. But there was in it one river especially, a mighty big river, that you could see on the map, resembling an immense snake uncoiled, with its head in the sea, its body at rest curving afar over a vast country, and its tail lost in the depths of the land.” – Heart of Darkness.
“Coiled all around the tree, with outstretched neck and keen and sleepless eyes, was a deadly Serpent. Its hiss ran all through the grove and the birds that were wakening up squawked in terror. Like rings of smoke that rise one above the other, the coils of the serpent went around the tree — coils covered by hard and gleaming scales. It uncoiled, stretched itself, and lifted its head to strike. Then Medea dropped on her knees before it, and began to chant her Magic Song.” – The Story of the Golden Fleece
“But when he found his soothing flatt’ries fail,
Nor saw his soft addresses cou’d avail;
Blust’ring with ire, he quickly has recourse
To rougher arts, and his own native force.”
-The Metamorphosis
Dear Friend,
I was washing dishes next to some Mexicans, the guy next to me didn’t speak any English but one day randomly turned to me and said tubee or notu be? God made space so that we could make this time. Reading makes you talented. You love yourself. Your happiness radiates. This is beauty. Simple. Down to biology we are, as Epicurus says, born to health. Things are sophisticated and sometimes just moments away from breaking into a million dangerously sharp pieces. None of that matters. How do we address the sufferings of others? Somehow what needs to be done can be done and done easily. Freedom, the event within options, isn’t between doing or not doing, it’s the choice we make toward freedom and away from what would restrict that freedom. It’s easy, and it makes things easier. Why would anyone want otherwise? I don’t know. I do know we’ve been wondering this from the beginning, back to the polis. Acting out of freedom is never from a place of must, fear is a liar, as it is said. Freedom, by its very name, is free of any quality that would determine it from the outside. I am free so long as I am free to be free. It’s a dream written long ago, thousands of years ago, of the possibility of a place where all people are free and independent. But it’s not a freedom given to them, it theirs, if they want it. A truly free man earns his freedom by himself. Douglass remembers when he became free long before he broke free from slavery when he says “I was a slave in form, but no longer in fact”. My freedoms are mine, they’re not yours to give. Do you realize how simple and easy it is to take what’s yours? The question is, how have you convinced yourself of a life otherwise? I think reading does have results. That they should necessarily lead to writing is conjecture. I believe really golden works make for great material in the hands of the adept. Philosophy was a staple to everything that led up to all that we hold dear to education. PhD is short for Doctor of Philosophy. Though we’ve come so far from it’s capacity we are making our way back. I only hope we reach back far enough to where the study of literature meant the fruition of ones own life. All too often people use ideas in order to hold what they think is real at an arms length. Imagine a bunch of people walking around like that, grasping for something desperately in front of them. I think knowledge is meant to work for you, not the other way around. Everyone is dickriding these systems, piggybacking over terms people who studied philosophy made and in their spare time. Most of them, completely negligent to their own affairs. Success is success. Nowadays people seem all to ready to settle for the simulacra of success. I think what’s lacking is the proper application of grammar, logic and rhetoric, the trivium being not only the foundation to classical education but a necessity to read anything with proficiency. I love children and think the world will be saved if there was a global initiative for smart people to reproduce and with the success of raising incredibly bright and talented children be given a reward of retirement, social security but for real, a gigantic surge in population growth of genius kids, that being the role of government, supporting families. We would set ourselves up for the next 10,000 years! Don’t think of society still being run by models, chosen by the brightest minds, in a small room somewhere in the pentagon. Decentralized intelligence, overflowing creativity, you can see it now, almost everyone is engaged in being a content creator of sorts, and all ages are now being asked to acknowledge and to a certain degree even participate in the dealings of what was “the adult world”. This line between children and the adult world is becoming more and more fixated as that distinction starts to blur in the face of blatant sexualization of children as well as drug abuse being a form of coping with the adult world. The direction we are going is good, and it’s not new but the very thread of what history is; the greatness of the human family. The claim to sovereignty over ones own force and direction is good, and the disclosure of how lacking and absolutely necessary education in the fruition of a successful and abundant life is also good. Cognitive dissonance is, as you know, an anxiety like earthquake on the plane of your idea of reality. It’s like thinking around the corner should lead to another street, but it turns into a giant pancake. You are still thinking of a fixed reality out there accessible only to the brightest minds. The truth is, a part of what makes it accessible only to the brightest minds is that the brightest minds know of no fixed reality. Hence the need to create, to play, which is not just an instinct for children but an absolute necessity to development of both gross and fine “motor skills”. There are a lot of great adults out there and I refuse to participate in that kind of shallow hunched over drooling idea of my community. I’m not sure where you live, but in my experience I have never been more discouraged than proud of the people I have lived amongst. People are good, and if their not often times they are very sick and or alone. Their continued affliction is often beset by those unwilling to do anything for them, which comes back to bite them in the ass when they reflect upon the world they ignored in order to cope with their own failings to find a belonging in their own life. They keep begging for a miracle. On a small floating boat gliding through a misty night Jesus asked them to recount the story. He drew their accounts with simple questions: you went to 400? with seven barrels of bread? and there wasn’t enough for everyone? while you others went to 500, with five barrels of bread? and everyone was fed?Yes. You guys had seven barrels for 400 and there wasn’t enough? while you guys had five barrels for five hundred and everyone was fed?Yes. And through watery eyes he asks the last question; “and still you don’t understand?” Well reading is not so simple as a word you would like to imagine, despite it “making your point”, you actually lose what it is for a picture of itself. Reading, if we allowed the word to breath and speak for itself, in English, begins with something as ordinary as reading text messages to specialized instances of having to “read” someone’s body language or translating from one dialect to another. I can imagine all sorts of reasons, motivations, joys, pains, trials, tribulations have accompanied people in their life engaged in the acts we associate with reading. Now what a book is is not an entirely simple thing to answer as you would like to assume. “it’s just graphic designs etched onto a plane organized to teleport thoughts from one mind to another” – you know? So, tread softly there. The content of the book is content itself, and whether the data, elementary particles, letters, amount to anything that can be called knowledge, or nous, or intelligence is strictly decided upon by the reader not the contents. Like a mirror, books reflect knowledge to someone who can make knowledge, or make-sense of what it is they can read. Someone once called Godel’s incompleteness theorem the most beautiful work of art of all time. I can’t read math like that but I’m open and respectful and even grateful to understand their reading. What I take from their reading will be my reading of the reading.From the barrenness of books of any knowledge to the best orientation toward life is strictly aesthetic and based in pleasure to aesthetic pleasure require superficiality, etc. this is their line of reasoning, that much I read. My reading of their personal anecdotes, which I appreciate, I too am a human being behind this post, I will read to you. I think “reading outside” your subject is very much in-line rather than a break-from your way. I interpret pleasure as having regained its footing in the source of love rather than duty, and that say, when five years of love withered away, that same love grew elsewhere, that is the same love. I see a struggle between love and duty, or perhaps this is an occasion for me to signify a certain theme that is important to me, or perhaps this is a theme that matters to the both of us and many more, but non the less I think as long as I am reaching out it may as well be extended. Fulfill the duty to yourself. Charity is written on every inch of this body. Your own reading won’t be taken for granted. You sow what you reap. What keeps me up at night and distracted during the day is the thought of creation that affected change in the world forever and all time: is it a rupture? A trauma, through which something wild comes through and alters the course irrevocably? Christian was already in for two years. He was looking at life. Why? He was at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. Guilty by association. He went to a party with his bro, and his bro was part of a gang, and at the party a fight broke out and someone was killed by one gang member. Christian was tried as a coconspirator, an accessory to murder, part of a large violent gang. And it wasn’t true. We spent nights talking about everything and when I finally got my books delivered this was one of them. In the common area we started a kind of reading group, and we would go through each chapter one by one. Soon people wanted to join us, just to be part of the conversation. Everything was separated by race, but these discussions broke those lines. It felt really special. He was 27, I was 4 years younger than him at the time. This book was like entertainment, and the people who gathered around us listened to us make sense of the lessons, go back and forth reading the stories. But power was nobody’s concern in 24hr lockdown. Power was born out of fear, a need for security in case a hot head entered the block and you had to fight with the group you belonged to. But when that animosity disappeared all that was left was a bunch young men, some grown old but still wild at heart, haunted by their yesteryears by the fact that those habits followed to old age, back to incarceration. Robert Green lives in a condo in LA with his cat. He makes neat collages about topics for publishing and making an income and sustaining his recluse quiet life. But for those who only got to go to the roof once a week, the only time you could see the sky, even then it was through a cage. You don’t know what it means to miss being outside, to just want to look up and see the sky without a dime cage obstructing your view. When things relaxed, and the masks were off, it wasn’t power that was on anyone’s mind, but freedom. Not freedom to indulge again i the kind of recklessness that brought them there, but something as simple as being able to see the sunset, breath fresh air, see the son or daughter or girlfriend or parent you haven’t been able to spend the day with. Freedom walk out of that cage and just be. These are books for entertainment. For men with guts I saw in rows, and in their eyes was a longing not to power but to simply be free. I came to understand that death is just the natural adjunct to “Life”. When you take out the trans sign, you can choose to begin anywhere. The choice is something moving and not necessarily a center, so I think about starting somewhere that gives me the best options. Mirth, glee, delight, love just encompass everything, it gives the best returns. What we confront is the radical nature of evil of others- but thank god all our ancestors have been working on this. We have to remember that we are part of the team that isn’t playing against another team, more like it’s a party and we want everyone to be invited to participate and have fun- because evil is not good to anybody. Right now education, beginning as early as possible, with an emphasis on being good to each other has to be formulated. It’s hard to come to grips with the fact that absolutely no one is thinking about this. Meaning the party must necessarily include everyone, all races, all creeds, old and young alike. A party with children, teens, adults, and seniors, making sure everyone is having a good time. Advances in all fields should be joyous, because exploration is an adventure and not a chore or a task. The great myths where the hero goes on a journey- what confronts him? The evil of others. We think that this is necessary- it’s not. Because the triumph of these not in overcoming them, it’s in getting to the other side. The future is the latter part of Odysseus’ life, where he is reunited with his family, living everyday not in the glory of some “truth”, but in the resolve. I find it very suspicious that heaven is spoken about as boring, and hell is where “all the best stories go”. It’s all a lie. Everyone accelerating to exploit what archetypes society has built for us by the system and resigning to shattered expectations in opulence is a failure of overcoming mediocrity. Death becomes the recourse to life, and complaint becomes the appendage to a Life without parole. Like I said, a moving place, where every choice brings more choices for choice- being aligned with something like infinity to no end. Self obsessed is how the other describes your unwillingness to settle the way they have. Artists always acknowledge other artists despite how “out of step” they are- all really amazing talented people I have met always had this. Normies will call it flawed- oh they have flaws- it’s not flaws because they are aware, that’s what makes them artists. Hyper awareness. And anybody who expects complacency in others is really asking the other to slow down. It’s no good to drive faster than everyone else and crash, but it’s no fun at all to stick to three chords because your rythmn guitarist is a newb. Creativity unbound is not without “weirdness”, but again this is just how we describe, we who have been systematized into frozen rigid categories, brought to you by McDonald’s, those who refuse to be told how where, when, and why. Self obsessed? More like self aware and a monster if crossed the wrong way. Satan is out to prove to God that we aren’t what he created us to be, special on our own terms. They will all be animals, they are made with dirt, he says. They are made of me, and if they choose to know me they will know themselves, and they will know you too Satan, and they will laugh in your face for being such a fucking cringey anal bitch. I made you dude and your gonna get jealous over this super cool project? I don’t care I am God. But I’ll watch as you try to dissuade them, but they will continue to suprise you. Not because of any intervention of mine, but because who they are, in the way I created them, in my image. They themselves are miracles. How can you not be absolutely in yourself 24/7, developing your capabilities, exhausting your vocabulary, writing with every physical sway, the personality of it all in it all? Self obsessed is how you describe the person you don’t recognize in the mirror after staring for way too long out there beyond nothing. You miss a lot from translation. The Farsi language can derive more than 200 million words and there is nothing comes close to the kind of word play demonstrated. Goethe learned Farsi and translated a lot of the works he was so in love with it. Germans share a lot with that part of the world, I won’t go into that here. On the surface it sounds like a really great poem, and it is, but the words chosen in the sequence it plays give it a lot more. For example Ferdowsi, beginning a story about a king says
“a nobody elected as governor makes a beggar of the merchants, by God if we really had intelligence how could this problem have come about”
that’s a literal translation in context. But it gets very interesting when you take apart the words.
A nobody.
from Nakas. It literally translates to “a nobody” but in context to a ruler a Nakas means somebody who didn’t come from a good lineage, his father was nothing, so he is a nobody. But not in that his father was poor in wealth or class, because rulers came from nobility, they were always of means, so it’s direct insult to their character. There’s another saying that says, in translation,
this persons dinner table hasn’t seen their father
Because a father passes a lot of knowledge, wisdom, and also as a metaphor as a place of giving and feeding and taking care- almost as if to say “there is no Head of the table”. Back to Ferdowsi though. So a nobody here means a ruler who may have come from “nobility” but was anything but noble. And this is followed by
makes a beggar of his merchants
Merchants, farmers, working class are all interchangeable with this word he uses for Merchants. But the connotation he uses is tiller,
makes a beggar of the tillers
Now this is really striking because tillers are the people breaking the land, growing the food. This guy who is governor is making the people, who should be the last to go hungry and beg for food beggars! So this goes on. But the real magic is even deeper. When he says Nakas, for nobody, he’s referring to lineage, as in line. This governor comes from a line that means nothing. And his nothingness makes his subject(s) beggars; the line that, with his own, was supposed to give, are begging.
by God
a god who is also the word
If we really had intelligence
but also, if we really could make-sense
how could this come about
But the word used isn’t how but where. In old English you find the word Wherefore,
Wherefore could this problem
but also means curse
Wherefore could this curse have come
It’s definitely not literal, and I am extrapolating, but it’s there. He is talking about writing itself, that “good writing” but belong to a trace, a noble trace, a good Father, whose tillers/ words wont be beggars, but they will give, and the word will rule, and it will be Somebody rather than Nobody. By God, who gives intelligence, and we who belong to him, who give as he has given and what he has given, anything but a curse. Both the Sophist and Statesman are a demonstration to a young Socrates of the power of the dialectic by the stranger from Elea, the place of Parmenides, the definition of a Sophist and Statesman. The dialogue Parmenides has Socrates, the philosopher in attempt through all the dialogues, confronting the Big Man himself in regards to his own ideas. Parmenides gives, not a demonstration on a definition like in the other two dialogues, but The Demonstration. What Parmenides does in his three hypothesis has still yet to be grasped by the biggest names in history. Those who have tarried with it have affected the world in absolute ways. The only reason he isn’t the top of the triptych is because Parmenides doesn’t fit our idea of what a philosopher is, but perhaps what we think of a philosopher is not at all what Plato considered to be one? I am certain the key to the dialogue of the Parmenides is the real definition of a philosopher as well as what philosophy, as a craft, really is. Remember, that a definition couched in words is a better description of a living creature than a drawing or any model of it can be. A young and old Socrates appearing at once has to be one of my favorite enigmas. Pillars stood at each side of the boys view, slowly growing the fear that arose from his stomach. He saw his own face in the light of memories together with his friends and family anywhere but here. Alone he stood at the steps that would lead him further as it had led him thence. The great looking shadow beckoned and without fear he took a step closer. Fully embracing his psychopathy means shedding what false humanity he had been indoctrinated into believing by the industrial human sausage factory. Fully embracing his psychopathy means murdering his invisible Jewish witch doctor. Fully embracing my psychopathy means I can and I will or I won’t. Fully embracing my psychopathy means no divisions between a laughs and tears and jubilance. Fully embracing my psychopathy means 5G wifi connection, unlimited data, roaming. Fully embracing my psychopathy means within and without. Fully embracing my psychopathy means saying fuck your categories. Fully embracing my psychopathy means going back to visit that little boy I once was and affirming his fears, “You are absolutely right.” Fully embracing my psychopathy means looking in the mirror at the monster I’ve become and handing it over to that little boy. Fully embracing my psychopathy means coming to the helm, and beginning where had left off the Gods. Fully embracing my psychopathy means fully embracing my psychopathy. Fully embracing my psychopathy means psychopathy represents absolutely nothing. Fully embracing myself as my own mind, no longer suffering myself, perhaps a disease but not my own. Not anymore. Not ever again. Pornography? The way he sees it is hacking. My stupid human animal body doesn’t know up from down. So I master it. I’m like ya ya bro that chick is totally loving it yes orgasm, relief calm relax. Turn it off. He doesn’t for a second use porn or even consider it as a stand in for being with a woman. If you’ve ever been with someone you know it is nothing like that. Absolutely nothing. It’s like the difference between listening to music vs actually performing music, let alone making new music bringing your own music to life. People who fuck around with strangers make the connect between that and porn because it’s masturbation like Zizek says, except you’re using someone else to masterbate. But having sex with your SO, it’s absolutely nothing like any of that. So the analogy between porn and having sex with a beautiful woman can only really make sense if a) sex is for you is just masturbatory b) a beautiful woman is a collection of porn search engine fetishes (blue grey eyes, soft skin, big tits, etc.) There is absolutely no comparison between porn, masturbation, casual sex with a stranger vs having sex with your Eve. Because it’s much more of a, for lack of a better word, spiritual experience. Money can’t buy it, no technology, including porn, drugs, “Sex workers” or blow up dolls comes close to it. I disagree with that whole mentality, ‘oh porn and masturbation is stopping you from attaining real intimacy’. Real intimacy it’s not even in the same dimension as those things. Like I said, people listen to music and they perform music, the former being a play before a spectator, the latter being an activity one does for a spectator, it’s somewhat similar. But making music, original music, say with someone else, it’s absolutely something else, or even better, the very heart of what the person performing is trying to conjure and what the spectator imagines himself to be involved in. Unmusical people and the loveless will never understand this. We live in post holocaust industrial meat packing factory societies where people have body counts and play video games where they murder people by jamming their thumbs and watch a television screen. In this hell, the need to see every interaction with a member of the other sex as either a taken or missed opportunity for fulfilling something you saw in a porn video the night before is nothing more than an unreflected impulse that has no objective way of satisfaction. But you will meet one person, they will come like a comet in your orbit, maybe once in a lifetime, maybe twice who knows, but this person will empty out all that excess you’ve been holding in the form of intimate relations. It’s your job to be prepared for it and to grab it and hold on to dear life. What most people in this hell hole wont tell you, because they don’t want to admit it, is that when that person came they weren’t prepared, or if they were, they didn’t hold on, they took it for granted, they let it slip by. I’d go so far as to say that all the degenerate ways that have spawned and characterize the post modern technocratic despotism were inventions of men and women who lost and made like bounce houses and arcades and blow up dolls for coping with this loss. It’s strange to see not very much education in the form of preparation to never be in the situation where you admit to yourself of “the one that got away”. It’s almost like a right of passage, and every old sack of shit has that “one person”. Its almost like an anomaly to not, to wait and to find and to hold on and never let go. Don’t worry about the others, just prepare for the one’s arrival, be ready to recognize them and to hold on for dear life. Because the world will do everything to tear you apart. Because happiness is not only not guaranteed, it’s not fair to the rest of the stupid cow eyed retards who can’t think or feel or live for themselves. The only real love happens between lovers. People do their best to live up to the highest possible reality they can come up with. If the man is a lover he can wind up a ‘settling down’ type of girl up, but a female lover wouldn’t tolerate for a second a male non-lover due to the nature of love. Fornicators are in the millions. Much rarer are those who want a relationship and settle down. But there is nothing rarer than sweethearts. You could count them on your hand, so few and far between are they in this world. The magic that happens between true lovers is a historic event in the history of the universe. But reality is that that rarely happens. Too many phony people in the world, and fornicators will do whatever it takes to fornicate, that includes tricking others into relationships- the terrible evil of pretending, knowing how rare love is and how vulnerable others can be. Those looking to settle always think they deserve sweethearts and after as many children as luxurious mansions think they have it only to get sour grapes when they meet real sweethearts. Real lovers, where romance comes into existence, it’s unparalleled. It’s real but it’s not for everyone. True sweethearts are inseparable. It’s like physically impossible. I think what happens in relationships is that one person is found out to be a phony. Best thing after that is friendship, and this is what the lover in the relationship shoots for because they know that the non-lover will feel the greatest loss. The petty behavior always comes from a non-lover. But nothing in the world can separate sweethearts. Lovers are keepers of a flame, I don’t even know how to make sense of it. Perhaps some future will be able to explain what it is, maybe not. How do you explain all time and space revolving around you and your lover? It sounds absolutely crazy to Fornicators , and settle down types believe it but like only “romantically”, “ let’s have a romantic evening” types. Real lovers are inseparable. Even if other people are in the picture, in the mind of a lover is only that special thing they have with their beloved. But like I said, only real love happens between lovers, and no real lover would ever walk from their sweetheart. A lover will be devestated not by being conned, or by having to turn this person they loved into a friend, but that the love between those them was one sided. Again, romance, real and true love, that event in the history of the universe, can only happen between two lovers, and that is unbreakable, incorruptible, untouchable. Don’t mistake love for lovers. I don’t doubt fornicators love their floozies, and settle down types love their partners. But they all attempt to embody what true lovers are in fact. Sweethearts aren’t in love or fall in love, they are love. Heights that high are too fine to forfeit. Lovers have always had to hide and live in secret. The world rightly hates them and thinks they are crazy. That’s why, for a lover, nothing matters more than finding and keeping their sweetheart. To fornicators, one slut – two slut – three slut. To settle down types, let’s be friends but I still hate you and will eventually stop talking to you. But for sweethearts, no way. No fucking way. I think what a lover feels is something beyond himself, his sweetheart. Perhaps “love” is just how outsiders describe this union between two very unique people, and they know they want that for themselves. Perhaps sweethearts are the embodiment of an ideal communion between two, out of one, into three. Romance is, again, just a name we give to what these lovers do. Love, just a name we give to what happens between sweethearts. The world doesn’t stop for people, but it stops for lovers, as long as they have each other. I’m speaking about a very very rare breed of beings by the way. People fall in love and love each other and break up or cheat on each other etc. For sweethearts, life is measured by the moments they spend with their beloved. As people mature that bond becomes so strong that no distance can stop them. It’s not monogamy or loyalty or whatever. I don’t know what it is but it keeps a sweetheart up at night, sometimes for decades, with a fire meant only for their beloved. Sweethearts don’t settle down. That’s why they’re ride or die- because it’s one hell of a ride. It’s fire. It’s hot and passionate, and when it’s turbulent and cold, there’s strength. Because for a lover, there is nothing can compare. Sweethearts write their own stories. I mean, is that not what romance essentially is? A story about two true lovers who find each other and become sweethearts? That’s the world of romance, it’s that simple. Life is beautiful for everyone if they find out who they are and what they want to be happy. You don’t need to dwell on being something your not. Do things that are you, and be happy with yourself. Comparison is the thief of joy. Romance isn’t for everybody. Is it for me? Sometimes I don’t know. What do I know? What am I saying? I thought The Devil Wears Prada was kind of a fucked up movie. I wonder if in the aims to please a target audience you don’t also do them injustice by appealing to their base desires and make entertainment of selfish actions that in the real world would contribute to a lot of unnecessary emotional turmoil. Outside of that, the industry that runs by feeding women large portions of transgressive fiction that create keepsakes they can remember when they are with their hubby is another strange allowance best left unspoken by women and unthought about by men. In any case, Anne Hathaway, in the logic of the many lives she’s lived through in the dimensions of Hollywood, she’s seems well within reason to be found in a family musical that culminates in her beheading. I actually don’t remember what happened in that movie, did she live? I worked with special needs kids growing up, and very quickly I learned to enjoy being a friend to them as they are often afriad to open up and show themselves out of fear of their specific handicaps. Just as long and they aren’t a danger to themselves or those around them, I think it’s important to make contact with how you feel and the various ways you express yourself, regardless how different or strange they often times seem. Making the smallest bit of effort creates incredible value. Hiding. Living on a plane traveling around the world. Sleeping on the top bunk. truth is but a moment in the unfolding of history, or, what is the same, the movement of parts toward a new part is what we mean by truth as a whole and historical moment. Therefore, my own failings are as much themselves part of a movement as they are a part of history as far is truth is my own as my own. Thank you for moving as you are, as much as this is a restoration of spirit, that is mine, I am also a moment in the notion of restoration for you. And these moments, that are ours, are now also moments in the history of restoration, our own in regards to the notion of truth and histories according to these moments. Sometimes I feel like people want to use me, or I them, deny me myself or they themselves, for other plans. Sometimes it seems like I only see the other, today it’s their personality. They talk about the other, that is never some real person, always the other. Seems like back in the day as well as now this that tarries with ideas knows that the other is special, qualities sublime. Love is like the only thing that comes close to that, that has survived that adoration toward the other. Love songs and ancient poetry go back to that reverence for the other, and what they gave in their glance they received from their lord. Behind me water spurts out onto Japanese fish swimming in a square pond in the middle of the common area of a luxury apartment building. Where am I? I live in a mansion. I live in a castle the greatest and most spectacular castle in all of the world. I have countless people working around me around the clock. It is my guess that my father in the high tower told them to ignore me for a smile or a quick nod is all I receive from the only people that I know. The kitchen is 3 miles away. There I ask for a piece of fish in a small fruit before going back on my way. I spent the winter in the north wing tower near the fireplace binge eating on local pastries and starvation meals, despite being well fed from morning till night. The clouds have parted and the sun has revealed what neglect has fallen upon me by my own hands. I walk nude around the garden feeling all the winter shed from my skin drop by drop. This morning the church bells ring inside the great cathedral where cooks, dishwashers, and chimney sweeps kneel before the images of my father. A child looks back and for a second I think it’s me. At the end of June of 1919 Treaty of Versailles was signed. Germany was to be completely neutered. In ten years the entire country would come together behind a painter who traveled from villainess to village speaking of a nation of the people. In ten more years not only did his party take over the country, but reclaimed the territory of the entire Holy Roman Empire and had the world shaking at the knees. It’s literally impossible to refute this absolute miracle. It negates itself when it began to value death over life and systematically annihilated millions of its own men women and children based on their relation to the people responsible for both of the world wars. Also the development of meth, morphine, and zyklon b completely destroyed what beauty was left in that part of the world. But even at its worst, it inspired something like America’s response to Japan. The possibility of global annihilation became a reality that continues to haunt the world today and has made global foreign policy, and by extension, peace treaty’s, global coalitions, a new world order, etc., a reality. All of this is due to a response to the germination that was the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei.
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