META-NOMAD

Exiting Modernity – 9 – No One to Turn To

You’re feeling lost, historically this feeling isn’t rare. What’s unique is that you feel lost within a space and system which has so many rules, constrictions and directions, it seems odd that one could get lost within such a space where the next signpost is only a mere step away. Of course this feeling is very different to the one imposed on you by others. The feeling of being lost, they say, is not rare for someone of your age, it’s completely normal to feel lost when you’re young. Except, the feeling hasn’t lifted in many years, in fact, it’s only got worse…more complex. You could denounce all I say as a form of angst, or bitterness, or even resentment, because this is what you do.

I dislike hastily shoving entire generations into groups such as Boomers, Gen Y or Gen Z, but stereotypes exist for a reason and unfortunately certain generations bow to a certain God and have passed the same belief system onto their children. They of course bow to work, consumption and an absurd form of material culture in general. Before I start here, this isn’t an anti-boomer piece, that would be dull, it’s actually an essay regarding infection and principle.

The consumerist culture I have expanded upon within various previous installments of this series is their God, their belief-system and their cultural center. It is the reason, they believe, that everything works and everything falls into place. And within their own circular logic they’re actually entirely correct. IF you wish for a large house, flash car etc etc. (you’ve heard it all before), then what you need to do is work long hours, get into debt, spend the rest of your life paying it off and die. And that, technically, ‘works’. That is of course all held under the implication that that is what you want to do with your life. You’re reading this, so I imagine you don’t.

I am reluctant to outline who this ‘we’ is, because it’s actually rather tough to pinpoint who it even is anymore. I don’t think any particular group of is pulling anybody else’s strings is any direct sense, such forms of blaming lead only to extremist delusions. And if you’ve taken anything from this series it’s that you have all the power of your own will, and as such can remove yourself from those things and forces which you do not want to be within. This we might be your older relatives, but it might also be your friends. You remember both these groups from when you were younger in a completely different light, don’t you? I know I do. One can of course state that I’m looking at my past through rose-tinted glasses, I may very well be, I don’t know. But what I do know is that the character and personality of these people has changed. Those new and vibrant spirits from my youth, many whom were close friends, have, upon repetition of action and conversation, become repetitions in-themselves. They utter little more than extracts from the latest media they’ve consumed and their opinions exist between an ever-tightening window of acceptability, and as for originality, well, there’s little that isn’t quite simply numbing. The ‘we’ in a sense, is merely the force of the culture I have been critiquing and its general expectations for the entire population it comes into contact with, inclusive of yourself.

The problem with this form of cultural infection is that you feel like you have no one to turn to. If we’re to return to the feeling of ‘being lost’ mentioned at the beginning, it’s not the usual way one feels lost because when one normally feels lost, they understand what they walked into and that there is some way out. One walks into a maze, gets lost, and does not panic, because they understand that is the nature of mazes, you just keep searching and the exit turns up eventually. The feeling of being lost I am referring to is vastly different on all counts. Not only did you not choose to walk into this maze, you don’t really even know what it is, and as such, don’t know what this feeling of being lost is even in relation to. A quote thrown about a lot these days is “Homesick for a place I’m not even sure exists.”. That gets fairly close to what we’re discussing here, the feeling that one’s potential is haunting them from another world where they haven’t had all the enchantment drained from them.

As stated, the fact you feel as if you have no one to turn to doesn’t help at all in this matter. What I mean by this is that for those actively looking for an exit, and are not just complacent in their situation, will find, at every turn, those whose perspective and outlook is so utterly absurd that one can’t help but feel entirely alone. Wittgenstein said if a lion could talk we wouldn’t be able to understand him, the frame of reference would be so different that it just wouldn’t make sense to us. I don’t think we even need to look outside of our own species now to see tenable results in this theory. You can understand these people, the words and sentences coming from them make sense, but only when an entire form of cultural logic is taken for granted. Prior to understanding the average Joe and all his desires, worries and opinions one must take for granted that this is how life is, all alternatives are not alternatives, but mistakes in relation to the great perfection that is contemporary Western consumer culture, for the average Joe, this is where we were meant to end up, wasting our precious energy and time on acquiring trinkets and status.

They want X, that doesn’t really make any sense to you, but sure, they’re not hurting anyone so you go along with it. You grow older and everyone wants X. If you don’t have X then you are seen as weird, odd and an outcast. But not only this, if you do not accept, enjoy and actively participate in the culture and system that makes X possible, then you too are weird and an outcast. You have to hide in the shadows, learning quickly to feign enthusiasm over the most mundane things. All of a sudden you feel alone in a room full of people and have nowhere to turn to. See, all the public spaces are full to the brim of their culture, all the quiet places are slowly being destroyed and infected and the only remaining places are deemed weird. Your choices are repressive and totalitarian normality or, ostracism.

Much along the same lines of a statement earlier in the series, ‘Why prolong a life you’re not enjoying?’, I ask you, ‘Why involve yourself with that which does not interest you?’. You might think you don’t, but how many things do you do, week-in, week-out, which you do purely out of a sense of normality and habit, things you do not to fit in, but to feel like you fit in? I imagine there’s many. The reason then that you feel lost and alone is not because you are, but because you are trying to be and find yourself in a place/logic which cannot willingly incorporate you into it. You are not lost, you have simply yet to find or understand the correct maze. It is as if you are being tested on how to be better at X, when you’re entire will is directed towards understanding Y. Not only does this culture make you unhappy, it quite literally makes no sense to you.

There are many who simply do not understand ascetics, stoics, minimalists, simple-living, nomads, wanderers etc., the problem however is that these very same people act as if their lack of understanding is not due to an ignorance on their part, but due to a malfunction regarding that which they don’t understand. That which does not conform to Western culture is not different, but wrong, this is what they have lead you to believe, this is why you feel lost and alone.

Practice: This practice is pithy and a little unrestrained, in fact, it’s a little careless. The practice is this, who cares? I have said this many times, you are free to do as you please. The problem is most people don’t understand this in all its grandiosity. Think of the average lottery winner, when asked what they will do with the money, the state that they shall live their current life but more extravagantly. The same applies to freedom. You can become freer, but how you then utilize that freedom is still up to you…that’s what it is to be free. So how are you going to use your newfound freedom? By simply becoming a freer prisoner within the maze of modernity, stating that you’re free because you drink, smoke and eat more, or are you going to use your freedom to head towards the exit and create as much of your own perfect life as possible?

On Consumerism

A discussion I’ve had time and time again with friends and family is one regarding consumerism. We usually discuss politics and collapse (in that order) until the early hours and eventually one person usually states something along the lines of,

“Well yeah, but the root of all this is the mindless consumerism! That’s what we need to stop!”

A statement which used to frustrate me, largely due to the fact there was lack of shared coherent definition regarding what ‘consumerism’ means. See, I figure that most people who are critical of consumerism see it as external to themselves, something which they don’t do and is only a problem for the dumb masses. I used to agree with such a definition, for it takes quite the stomach to admit that one might have traits of the sheep in their nerves.

This typical definition of consumerism is a general critique of mindless behavior as opposed to an exposition on the meaning itself. Consumerism in the stereotypical sense means someone who wants/desires the latest car, flatscreen-TV, Marvel Movie etc. Basically someone who is entirely caught up in the spectacle of consumption and wishes to have the latest purchasable piece of the spectable, as to prove that they are indeed in-on-it, they are in-the-know and are ultimately, normal and worthy of popularity, status and attention. I see this definition as basically wrong, in fact, it’s not only wrong, it’s extremely misleading.

The above definition is more like the worst parts of the whole, the most extreme example of consumerism. And as prevalent and obvious as that part of the definition is, it’s only the glaring top layer of the consumerist cake. In fact, I’d argue it’s the layer that almost needs to stay alive for consumerism to continue flourishing. We’ve all read or seen Fight Club, ‘you are the shit you buy’ etc etc. blah blah, misreadings all over the place, angsty morons begin lobbing their half-baked anti-I-don’t-even-fucking-know ideology about the place and generally using the pithy pseudo-ideology of an OK novel to legitimize their own bullshit. This of course implies that there’s a whole other level of consumerism going on, one which most people really…really don’t want to admit to, at least those who are supposedly critical of consumerism at large.

It’s easy to be critical of those buying the latest sports car, the latest TV, the biggest house etc. of consumerism, because, well, the things they’ve purchased are so large, garish and obvious that one cannot help to project their own insecurities into phrases such as “Compensating for something?”, “I just think people should live within their means.” and “Urgh, his/her life must be so empty.” Shut up. You’d have bought the same empty shit if you had the money or the chance. How do I know this? Because within your current ‘means’ you continue to buy the bullshit you can now! Every year or two you buy a new iPhone because, well…it came out – your old phone was fine of course, you just kinda…wanted the new one. You buy designer clothes even though you have perfectly fine clothes at home, you buy new editions of books because they’ll look nicer on your shelves, you – like 82% of the country (UK) – bought your ugly new car on finance, you just got new sofas because you changed your colour-scheme, you of course had to try that new sauce/meal/burger/wrap/drink from [insert food chain here]. The list goes on and on and fucking on! You are not outside of consumerism, you are so totally within it that you exist solely on hypocrisies at this point.

Thus far one could quite easily mistake the overarching idea of consumerism which I’m writing about here as simply a material ‘ism’. And that which we consume is only material, things and/or items etc. This is, once again, completely incorrect. The items of consumerism are secondary. Secondary to an idea. A shit, vacant, idiotic idea. The idea itself can’t be encapsulated by one phrase or statement because it subsumes lots of other socio-parameters into it. Status, normalcy, popularity, anxiety, paranoia, cultural-capital, to name just a few, are the fuel for this idea. The idea is of course simply consumption as means and meaning, but it’s so absolutely unconscious that – as I have stated – even those who attest to hate it, understand how it works or who are virulently against it continue to fall prey to its allure.

The problem is – as opposed to creation, mutation, differentiation and communication – consumption is very easy. So easy in fact we don’t even realize we’re doing it.

Let me ask you this dear reader, is your personality merely a culmination of your vices?

Are you an end-product of compounding material desires, ideological consumption and identity traits into a ‘being’?

Almost everything falls into the realm of consumption and it takes quite the alteration in perspective to remove yourself from the realm, so that your acts become somewhat ‘authentic’ (though I don’t want to venture into that avenue) or at least taken self-knowingly.

Remember when you were a child and you and your buddies stayed up late and watched some action-packed war film? The next day you went off the woods and pretended sticks were guns and rocks were grenades, you consumed the media and let it infect your identities – hey, at least when children do this is completely transparent. Hey, Brits, remember when Skins first came out and almost every other moron at school began to morph their personalities around those idiotic self-serving characters? Well I do, it was less transparent, but still a clear example of consumption at large.

After your teenage years I guess it becomes, at least for the masses, a little more tricky. See, the education system and the state – the two teats adults suck on for security of both an individual and collective kind – teach very little (if anything) about that which is external to consumption. Your classes at school were all formed in a manner of consumption – consume data to prove X, you consume various bits of state red-tape to be able to form your life and then continue to discuss said consumption in such a way that it fills your day and makes you seem real and connected to the norm.

“Fucking tax man took a bite out of my paycheck!”

“Got this weird housing letter about my rent…”

“I hope I pass X-exam, I’ve studied hard'”

There’s nothing in any of this, it’s the filler conversation which makes up 99% of life – unless you make the decision to exit from those people and places, which is relatively easy…but perhaps you just life comfort.

“So Meta, if all adults are is this weird culmination of bits and pieces they’ve consumed, what makes you so special? How can anyone not be some odd creature of consumptive habit?”

Well dear reader, that’s a very astute question, thank you for asking. When I write these posts I generally think that I come across as a condescending arsehole, I don’t massively care. Those who’ve I’ve offended are offended solely because of resentment, and wish their comforts had not been questioned. Those who are angry now, but willing to look inward will be thankful later.

#Anyway, the question at large I guess is this, ‘How can you not be a consumer?’ I mean, everyone consumes at a fundamental level don’t they? Water, food and shelter are things we need and so we consume them, the key point of argument then is the difference between a need and a want, or in French, between a need and a desire. You need shelter, water and food. You don’t need a new TV, a fancy car and brand name clothes. All of these are simply lifestyles being sold to you, visions of a future wherein you have higher status, greater popularity and more people life you. Look at that guy in the prototype Audi A333, wrapped in 30 layers of Ralph Lauren with a TV implant in his head, he is cool…he is alpha. For a good novel on this absurd form of consumerism I recommend James Palumbo’s TOMAS.

Anyway, the reason everyone consumes, and no one is immune from the consumerist lifestyle is that pretty much everyone is, at least in some way, weak. I’m weak to books, especially esoteric and obscure books, I consume then like a rabid animal. In a certain sense I’ve bought into some ideal there and am beginning to move from it. If this is the case then consumerism at large, in definition, is largely defined by the reasons why someone is purchasing something as opposed to act of consumption in itself. It doesn’t matter if you’re buying McDonalds or organic, fairtrade, homegrown, vegan, non-GMO, gluten free jam, it’s the reason you’re buying them. You’re probably buying the formed because some remnant of a heartfelt kitsch McDonald’s advert is lodged in the back of your mind and you suddenly just ‘fancied’ a burger, think on your actions for more than a second and you will immediately stop consuming as much, the latter however might be bought out of sincerity, but it also might be bought out of virtue. Hell, a lot of that kind of vegan, wholefoody stuff must be bought out of virtue alone…’cus it tastes like shit.

Strangely, this is were my now not-so-recent flirtation with Occultism come in handy. (With that said, I think continued reading, research and practice of Occultism means it’s no longer a flirtation and something more…) See, in my Greer interview he notes of the animatronic Santa Claus figures you get at Christmas. You know the ones, you press the button, he dances and sings a tune, the family laughs for 2 seconds, it gets thrown out in a few months. The point is if people actually thought about their purchase decisions for more than a nano-second entire industries wouldn’t even exist. Consumerism in its entire is a demonic force that preys on passivity and apathy. You’re not thinking, you don’t care and you’re hardly even mentally awake, and that’s why you feel alienated and empty, you’re simply the crass compound human-butter made solely of vapid desires and parasitic dreams. In short, you’re an unthinking idiot.

Want to get ‘out’ of consumerism and edge a little closer towards authenticity and a more content, fulfilling being, it’s quite simple, practice meditation. Specifically discursive meditation:

“To get the best results, discursive meditation requires the same sort of preliminaries that the more familiar forms of meditation do. The standard advice among old-fashioned occultists was to sit in a chair with your spine comfortably straight, not leaning against the back; your feet are flat on the floor; your legs are parallel to each other, and bent at a right angle; your hands rest on your thighs close to your knees, and your elbows are at your sides. Every muscle you don’t need to use to stay upright is as relaxed as you can get it. Having assumed the position and deliberately relaxed the muscles just mentioned, you breathe slowly and deeply for several minutes, paying attention to the inflow and outflow of the breath, and turn your mind away from every topic of thought except the theme of your meditation.” – Foundations of Magical Practice: Meditation

I practice (though not as routinely as I’d like) 2 forms of discursive meditation. Firstly the one above which I practice prior to bed for 15 minutes, or until the question has been answered and dissolves. I also practice a form of questioning/discursive meditation with a friend – this is a personal invention, but great for quick problem solving. Find a friend in whom you can trust to tell the depths of your soul. Your question or predicament may be serious or harmless etc. Have them question you after every answer.

“I think I need a new job.”

“Why?”

“This one isn’t fulfilling.”

“Why?”

“The work doesn’t suit me.”

“What is it about the work?”

“It’s dull, meaningless.”

“What work do you think would have meaning for you?”

You get the picture, anyway, I find both of these forms of ‘meditation’ extremely useful in day to day life.

And so you want to exit consumerism, perform a discursive meditation either on a consumptive habit that is frustrating you (Netflix, smoking etc.) or on your consumptive habits in general, note the results, reflect on the initial problem and the answer that helps you find some peace with it. Often the two would have be very difficult to connect.

Exit from the Office

In general I don’t agree with the idea of ‘guilty pleasures’, if you enjoy something, then go enjoy it. I mean, imagine being so Oedipalized that you legitimately feel some form of shame or guilt because you enjoy something considered by others to be silly, lame etc. With this said, I currently have 3 rather peculiar guilty pleasures. Now I consider these guilty pleasures because they can all be placed under the same rather rough headings: Western Detritus, What-the-Fuck-Happened, Peak Society, Surrogate Activities etc. Perhaps if I list them you’ll get the idea. My 3 current guilty pleasures are all visual. Speed-eating videos, video game speedruns and – very recently – watching Fortnite.

Wait, Meta, you said you never really watched TV or anything of this sort? It’s true, I don’t, usually. And this is why I actually count these as guilty pleasures. Unlike stereotypical guilty pleasures – which are actual pleasures – I don’t really enjoy watching any of these things. I watch them in the same way you watch ants carry bits of wood back to the nest, the same way you watch a dog try solve a put-the-shape-in-the-hole problem. I watch them in a sort of trance. I think to myself ‘This is where we’ve got to, this is it, this is the magnum opus of society’. And I can never get past these thoughts. Perhaps this is why they interest me so much. With my rather extensive education in the arts and philosophy I can generally tackle a problem – intellectual or personal – and figure it out in some way within a short space of time (Guess what, the answer is usually just to fucking act.) But with these 3 things I can’t get anywhere, I can’t work it out, it’s like ants on speed reveling in nonsensical excesses.

Don’t worry, this does relate to the ‘getting into a trade’ and ‘exiting marketing’ part of this post, but I do need a little more exposition. So firstly, the speedeating. I watch this channel called BeardMeatsFood, for a sample of this content – if you’ve never come across ‘competitive eating’ before – check out this link for his 100,000 calorie challenge. In the words of one of the bystanders in an episode of Man Vs Food “This is the stuff of legends!”

And perhaps that man was right, perhaps these are our legends now, these are our myths. Doughy soyboys who utilize facial hair as personality to promote a Youtube channel where they eat…lots of food, interspersed with tinny rock music, a time-frame and a calorie counter. I cannot assemble these parts into any coherent whole, there’s no unification here that modernity will allow me.

I wont link video game speedrunning here as I imagine many of my readers will know of it already, if not, just look it up. Basically it’s completing a video game in the shortest time possible – with defined limits and rules etc. Now, I guess as some form of challenge it’s intriguing. But there are many people currently playing years old games attempting (daily) to scrape mere milliseconds off their completion time. Ted Kaczynski calls activities that we’re doing other than aiding our survival or fulfilling our actual needs ‘surrogate activities’, God only knows what he would call these activities. I call them nothing, apathy and lack of self-discipline. At least in a practical sense. Other than those forms of criticism I can’t find anything in them.

Much like my recent guilty torture of watching Fortnite. This came about because a friend kept going on about it and intrigue got the better of me. I watched a good 30-40 minutes of a ‘professional’ (send nukes) Fortnite live stream. And well, after that time I still couldn’t figure out what was going on, honestly. I get the general gist of a battle royale type game of course, but it just makes no sense to me anymore. This is going somewhere, I promise.

See, I ended up in this marketing job for a camping company. The job, and I stress, this is what we consider a job these days, consisted of looking after their social media, creating digital adverts and the occasional bit of customer service work. Now, the days were 8 and a half hours long with an hour commute time each way. For the first 2 hours I’d answer emails and social media queries and then…I’d sit and look at the computer screen or wait for the phone. Now, many people would find this absolute bliss, doing fuck all all day, I’m sure many could have stayed there for the rest of their lives mindlessly scrolling away on their phones, or eating junk. But it made me realise something. Marketing is one of the few ‘skilled’ office jobs. By that I mean, there’s little to no actual skill in customer service or admin type jobs – and before you shout at me, I’ve done these too – a well trained monkey could honestly do many of these jobs. They’re for slaves who adore being told what to do, people who not only take no pride in their work, but take no pride in anything, have no principles or ambitions and wish merely to grind until death. Fuck them, go away, I hate even thinking about such an existence. Anyway, back to marketing being ‘skilled’. If this is a skilled office job, the majority of people are working these jobs which are – to paraphrase Dmitry Orlov – “The embroidery on the fabric of society.” And here I go full Peterson, I don’t care.

I realized that most people cannot contribute, help or even understand the very basics of how society functions. Most people are so incompetent that they truly believe things just happen and appear, that stuff can actually be thrown away, to some mystical land. I started having very practical realizations of things I had thought about in abstract but had yet come into contact with. People don’t know how to do shit. Most people are spending their lives tailoring their energies towards being able to make a better phone call, take a better photograph, create a better advert, write a better piece of content etc. I’m going to take for granted here that my readers understand that I understand these things can of course have their place, but in my opinion, not after the basics have been taught.

There I was, dwindling away at a laptop, for all intents and purposes…pissing time away on idiotic nonsense. Creating little bits of bullshit to sell someone a tent, a tent which both I and the consumer have absolutely no idea how it’s made, nor where or who by. It is just a thing which I communicate we are selling. As far as I’m concerned the job was beyond meaningless, it was odd, a surreal experience of life in the office. Hell, to be quite honest.

It was much like the speed-eating, speedrunning or Fortnite viewing, it was an odd nothingness. It was fluorescent lights humming for 8 hours until I could leave. It was a person, sitting in a room, tapping at a small black object and not diverting their attention anywhere else for 8 hours. It was a being, with the potential to learn, help and form a self, dwindling their finite time away into a vortex of modern bullshit. It was, quite seriously, a mind-numbing form of sterilization. A slow death. No wonder everyone is so tired, depressed, anxious, paranoid and chubby. Their lives consist of sitting for 8-9 fucking hours in the same spot, staring at the same 30″ screen, moving only their fingers! This is your fucking life! You’re a fucking rat in cage! A cage you willingly stepped into because you’re too scared of the risks of the alternative! Get the fuck out! Find somewhere with some beauty, some peace, some people who are of your own and discussions which make you feel at home. Find heart within a skill, a trade, something other than being an automaton who promotes the ideology of the corps out of the mere comforts it brings them. And this is why I mentioned those videos. If you wish to feel how I did, or how the somewhat awake, lonely, alienated and ostracized (from their animalistic biology) office worker does, then watch one of those videos, it is the static death that modernity leaves at your door right after wrapping it in pretty paper.

Luckily a friend told me of a job going at a joinery place he worked at, I also knew the owner (so I’ll be very honest here), considering I have only amateur joinery experience, it was a stroke of luck I got the job. Right place, right time. However, I jumped onto that opportunity around 3-4 hours after hearing about it and didn’t look back. My first week has been extremely basic in a meaningful way. I finish, prime, assemble and prepare bespoke doors, windows, stairs etc. for people who’ve ordered them. People need windows and doors and I’m part of that process. At the end of the day I can see the work I’ve done.

I feel worked too. And no, I’m not one of these people who believes you should have to feel exhausted at the end of every day. But if you believe it is unusual to feel tired or physically knackered at the end of the day…if you come home and you complain, just one time, of feeling physically knackered, then guess what, your privilege levels are through the roof. You just don’t have a clue. You whine about suffering, but when will you realize that once you realize life is suffering then it no longer is. The more you keep it at bay, the more it will haunt your day.

I beg you, friends, from the heart, to exit the office. I understand of course that many of you simply cannot do this. Many of you with families are making the sacrifices needed, and many of you many have monetary problems which I do not understand, both of these I can empathize with. For those of you who feel locked in, strapped to your chair like a prisoner, whose minds are darting back and forth in fits and starts, whose brain matter in eroding, whose legs are tapping constantly. Those of you who want to step up onto that shitty Ikea desk and shout “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING?! THIS IS NOT LIFE! THIS IS NOT LIVING!” I honestly beg of you to think of your commitments, tally them up, write them down, see if you can survive an exit from modernity. Do what you WILL and exit that place which wishes only to keep on capturing your spirit…

 

Cosmic Bemusement: On the Red Pill

“They lived in a cramped two-bedroom apartment above a cybercafe near the University of Toronto. Since No. 9 was out of town, I put my bags in his room and joined Mystery in the kitchen. Patricia had broken up with him, for good this time. And he’d been staying in his room a lot, playing a video game called Morrowind and downloading lesbian porn. Getting out of the house for these upcoming workshops would be good therapy for him.” – The Game – Neil Strauss

Around the age of 16-17 I fell directly into the demographic utterly primed and ready to read ‘The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists’. I was young, extremely online, nerdy, loved to research things and enjoyed video games, as such, a book which would explain and deconstruct the techniques of how to get women to me was of course an almost biblical event. For those of you who haven’t read it, or don’t really know what it’s about, well, it follows ‘Style’ (Neil Strauss) as he enters the work of ‘pickup’ (how to pickup women) and seemingly goes from beta to alpha, though arguably this isn’t the case. Anyway, it was actually an extremely important book for me. Hell, me and some of my friends followed this thing like it was practically biblical scripture for around a year. One friend even invited 26 women into a Facebook group chat and messaged them “Who fancies going on an adventure!?”. Damn, I remember one distinct time where I was being dragged around a bar with a duplicate card in my pocket so I could wing-man my friend with his pithy magic tricks. Yes I did pull, and so did he.

 

Opened my eyes to the fact others are viewing the work from entirely alien perceptions, made me realize how transparent things can be/become and ultimately made me find some authenticity within myself a little more. This was my first, very minor taste, of the ‘Red Pill’. “Wait, what’s the Red Pill?” Where you been, living under a rock?

 

“Because there’s truth in the red pill. Because men are realizing that the sexual marketplace has shifted away from what we’ve been taught. Men who grew up over thirty years ago are discovering the world has changed. Men who are still growing up- from the 80s, 90s, and even the last decade, they’re starting to realize that what their parents taught them, what television and chick flicks taught them, what church and sunday school taught them… it’s all wrong.” – (Here)

So I took a few years away from ‘game’ or ‘pickup’, I mean, I still ran a lot of the shit when I went out, I mean hell…it worked! And that was the problem, it was a real ‘kids with dynamite’ situation. Here I was a 18-20 something with not much life experience, who by chance stumbled across some text, which when applied fairly rigorously gives at least seemingly noticeable results. Was I banging hundreds of chicks? No. I didn’t go out that much, I was still a nerd. Was I way more successful with women than before? Hell yes. And much of it’s stuck, but in a good way now, but I’ll get to that. Anyway, yes, kids with dynamite. I’d get these girls, fuck around for a few weeks and then realize I was basically challenging myself to do all this, to prove to God knows who that I even could do it. So I ended up stuck in multiple situations in which I just could not emotionally handle the end result. I.e. I wasn’t really interested, not really. I just wanted to prove to myself I could, and I did and well…that was that.

So I took a couple more years out from ‘pickup’, I actually had a fairly long relationship during this period of my life. Wait. Long for me…7 months. But I didn’t really go to-and-fro nor put myself out there much. I was focused on drinking and more drinking at this juncture. Anyway, push came to shove with the drinking phase, boy, this must have been around 4 years ago now. I’ve occasionally crumbled and had a few weeks binge, but my interest in the sauce is gone. (That said, I’m still wary of it, I do have some sort of problem. Perhaps I’ll write about this at some point?) So I began to sort myself out. Note: This coincides with when I found the right-wing. And no, this is not a coincidence, there is correlation.

So I began on that oh so typical path of self-improvement, one which I’m still on as many of you know. But of course in the early stages this meant regaining confidence, strength, vigor, game etc. and so I was lead back to the sphere of pickup. But this time I began with the more fundamental texts, the hard-hitting Red Pill stuff, the bitter as hell stuff. The reading list was as follows:

No More Mr Nice Guy – Robert Glover. I actually still like this book, it’s important and I’ll cover why later.

Models – Mark Manson. Once again, I like this one too, if you want to read a good book on game, get this one.

The Rational Male – Rollo Tomassi. Here we go…

 

So, The Rational Male is a fairly dense, analytical and highly – you guessed it – rational book. On first read those men who feel they’ve been neglected, or treated unfairly by society with regard to women etc. find this book almost revelatory, a religious experience. Their eyes are opened and all that is true regarding the biological and socio-political structures which are from women controlling them, are revealed. I wont go into them here, their very long and very dry. Hypergamy is the main one. Which is the shorthand for stating that women select, or are constantly selecting the best possible mate with regard to social status.

Hypergamy doesn’t care that you had a bad day.”

Hypergamy doesn’t care that you enjoy eating food.”

“Hypergamy doesn’t care that you lost all your limbs.”

“Hypergamy doesn’t care that you’re a Shoggoth.” etc etc.

So it’s all this kind of thing, very analytical and very ‘proof’ or social proof heavy. Whatever, if that’s your deal, that’s your deal. I have little against any of these authors personally, but something really does irk me about this whole thing.

See, I first noticed it after one of the first clear Red Pill fragmentations. Where a load of Red Pill guys – at least this is my understanding of the situation – thought the whole thing was a little too female-centric and started a movement called ‘Men Going Their Own Way’ (MGTOW). What I noticed was that much like ‘post-modernism’ MGTOW was ‘always already’ tethered to that which it so despised, namely women. (Which I don’t despise by the way, I haven’t the time, nor patience for such bitterness. And if my old ‘pickup’ pals are reading this and wincing, cringing or weeping, good, fuck off and grow up.) So, basically MGTOW is trying to say that their going to focus their lives solely on a path away from women…hmm OK, so how does that look?

“Hey! Look at me doing X…without women.”

“Hey! I’m working out…in spite of women!”

“Hey! I made myself a great lunch…something to do with women.”

You can see where this is going. My point being, and this is the large, cantankerous point of this whole write-up is this. Red Pillers, if you’re so above all ‘this’, if you’re so woke, wise and unplugged, if you’re living the way you want and improving oh so much, why do you focus/return almost every facet of your entire back/with regard to women? You lift to impress women and improve your status. You read for the same reason. You work, climb, eat well, run, intellectualize and generally self-improve not for your self, but for some collective female self you’ve created. Just one more rep and finally you’ll be free of the great vaginal burden you have to carry!

See, Red Pillers note that the major problem of society at current is the ‘feminine imperative’:

 

“The Feminine Imperative is that when a woman follows her pussy, it should have good results for her, and if it does not have good results for her, it is the fault of some dastardly man and not an indication that women are too childish and irresponsible to be allowed to follow their pussies.

Whenever illicit female sexual desires lead to illicit acts which have bad consequences, those consequences are deemed to be the fault of men, and it is the duty of men to make female sexual desires come out with good consequences for the woman, even if it means bad consequences for the man. Man up and marry those sluts!” – blog.jim.com

 

So where am I going with this? Well, and I might put a lot of this down to my recent forays with Egoism, but largely I see all of these strange focuses, neuroses and emphases as personal oddities and delusions. That’s not to say I’m not sympathetic to an argument regarding the ‘feminine imperative’ no, once again, this wouldn’t be the point I’m trying to get at. My point would be that all this time and energy spent reading book after book and blog post after blog post on game, PUA, red pill etc. seems to be fuel to the fire which is burning your house of masculinity down.

“Why do women – supposedly – ruin everything?”

“Well, why do you keep reading shit about women ruining everything? Christ dude, get a fucking hobby.”

All this – somewhat truthful and helpful – human-centered gunk about frame and confidence etc. in my opinion dissolves once such notions are based upon your readings and acceptance of another’s work. ‘Man, I’m so fucking confident! Look how confident I am applying paragraph 3C of Pussy Slaya V3!’

This is precisely why the words ‘cosmic bemusement’ are in the title. And sure, you can say ‘Well Meta, you drag everything to your dumbarse pseudo-nihilistic cosmic level and it all erodes’ and I’d say ‘Sure does!’. But this isn’t about that.

I am cosmically bemused at the fact that those who inhabit the Red Pill way of life center their lives around the very thing they proclaim to hate. That such a group who are hyper-critical of X continue to gravitate every facet of their being, in some form, back to X. That such a group can seemingly conceive of no notion of life outside of X. I’m puzzled at their purpose, they wish to find meaning and yet they give it away at the first hurdle. ‘What would this mean to X?’, ‘How will this look for X?’ etc.

I see this as a larger form of societal, if not cosmic alienation (non-Marxian). It’s not men, nor women, nor people, not a collective which is trapped in some form, but is a general repression-of-the-spirit (non-Hegelian). Confidence is gone not through some strange socio-political, histo-cultural statistic, or enforcement or rule regarding only one factor of society no. There’s a multitude of factors culminating in the dampening and numbing of a general spirit. Yes, many modern men are afraid to approach women, but their also afraid to lift weight, work hard, eat cow heart, dance, act weird – and the same applies to women.

That’s sort of it, I haven’t much more to say on the Red Pill. It’s repetitive and I needed to get this out of my system.

 

Yours,

 

Beta-Nomad

Time-sink

In massively multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs), time sinks are a method of increasing the time needed by players to do certain tasks, hopefully causing them to subscribe for longer periods of time. Players may use the term disparagingly to describe a simplistic and time-consuming aspect of gameplay, possibly designed to keep players playing longer without significant benefit. Time sinks can also be used for other gameplay reasons, such as to help regenerate resources or monsters in the game world. – Wikipedia

I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘time sinks’ lately. The definition above in relation to gaming is increasingly being expanded into the domain of reality, it’s a small splinter within modernity and complacence that allows one – if they so wish – to aim themselves at something of a greater horizon. Let me expand on a few common time-sinks. Gaming of course is one, binging a TV series, binging-consumption in general etc., but what makes these activities time-sinks as opposed to a way to spend time. Well, with gaming it’s fairly simple, the mechanics – as previously defined – are built in, there to hold you for the sake of holding you. Yet it is TV series where the time-sink really shows itself, if you allow it to. See, there’s little wrong with watching a series or show or presentation. That is of course if the choice was yours, you were indifferent to the rest and actively allowed a piece of media to traverse the drawbridge and be allowed reflection. The time-sink on the other hand is watching a TV series again and again for the sake of watching it again.

“I’ve seen [insert popular TV series here] at least 10 times!”

The problem is that you only really ever experience it once, and any repetitive viewing, gaming or reading is usually a melancholy attempt at retaining that initial escape and connection. Behind the time-sink is a mode of being wherein you begin to find other-things, other-experiences. Behind the useless thresher of empty-consumption, of controlled-time and rhythmically calculated frying of your amygdala is the lure of Outside. An Outside over nihilism, something more, perhaps not ever tenable in-itself, nor fully agreeable to oneself, but a mode outside of the thresher all the same. But how does this strangeness come about, wherein is it experienced?

You go to your box, your TV, your controller, your piece or thing or object or desire or lust or supposed lack, and you do what you do because you’ve always done this. You don’t understand why nor ever think of if there is such a why, you don’t question, you do…you are utility in spirit. You understand little but how to act in relation to a minor form of production, you are a combination of parts which all revolve around utilizing things with regard to larger combinations of things, you do do do all the live long day. Perhaps you should head behind, I shall write in a future post of ditching your smartphone, not as an anti-modernist feat, but simply because it is a time-sink. And so,

You lay down your phone, you turn off the TV and finally turn of the PC. Outside of these 3 things the majority of people no longer have any life. Bar their work and survival functions they have nothing else. They’re consumed by a feedback loop of regurgitated dopamine producing micro-stuffs. You turn these off, think for yourself, without these what do you have, what happens to the very concept of doing once common notions of ‘to do’ are removed? Most wont know, and I’m not saying I have any answers, but if there are any they most likely are within that odd space of nothingness which makes you feel nauseous at its very reality.

Maybe you’d get around to reading that lengthy book you’ve been meaning to start, or begin learning some hobby, go see an old friend, go…I dunno, wait, what do I want to do? Huh, not sure. So you keep thinking about various things and come to no conclusions. It’s all very strange in here you say.

You’re sitting on the sofa now, staring ahead. You don’t seem to want those things you got rid of months ago. Phone, TV, games, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, arguments…all gone. And you sit and be for a bit, for a while each day you just be, and it’s quite nice, your mind dissolves out from the mud into a clearance, just for a moment. And the more you reduce everything the more it all makes sense, some days it makes more sense, others less. Those things you don’t miss added nothing, your indifference is peaking constantly.

The beauty here is that you no longer rush, because the more you reduce the less you rush. Humans have no teleology that isn’t created from a spook of the mind. You used to subconsciously rush home, didn’t you? Speeding in traffic, looking at the clock every minute at work, why? Because there was a new TV show out, or you wanted to continue playing that game, or finish some oddity of production and consumption…“If I could just finish all media then I would be complete.” These things used to give you just enough self-satisfaction regarding completion that you felt accomplished almost every minute. “Yes, 5 episodes tonight.” “Yes, 2 mission complete tonight.” “Yes, X amount of finite Y tonight.”.

And so you remove these things, these nothings and what’s left, no urges, no strange compulsions or rushes to get from A to B. You’re-being-in-traffic, being-cooking-food, being-eating etc. there’s no where you need to be because you already are.

Eating Tuna from the Tin

So I said that when I finally finished my dissertation that I would delve deep into Z/Acc. Well, now is that time. I wasn’t sure what to call this series. Mainly because I know it’s going to be my longest yet, I’ve got so many ideas for blog posts on this topic its almost crazy, as a blogger you get a certain kind of buzz from finding new points of overlap. I was initially going to call it Dirty Future as a sort of tongue-in-cheek jab at the sphere I’ve been working in prior, yet, that doesn’t feel right. I can’t say for certain that the prophecies of Kurzweil, Land etc. haven’t/wont come true. Many most definitely have (see here), and many will come true in a stranger fashion…not the future we wanted, but the one we got etc. Then I was going to call it Notes from a Dead Dog, because that sounded cool and sort of harsh, the corpse of a rotten, loving mutt seems apt and I can’t really explain why. Perhaps Z/Acc journal, I don’t know, anyway, I’m writing this post as a means to figure out what it should be called, so I can group it all together.

A few thoughts,

 

It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” – Pablo Picasso

 

I’m not much of a fan of Picasso, yet I always liked this quote, not in its relation to art, nor even aesthetics. You see, it took me 25 years to exist as a modern man, and it’s going to take me a lifetime to simply exist again. I grew, and much like the rest of the West (male and female) I sort of nonchalantly was whilst being parasitically infected by various external stimuli. This could be misconstrued as a Chomsky-esque Manufacturing Consent type thing, perhaps it is, I don’t massively care. Either way, as I grew, I became slowly formed. Mass-media, TV, Internet, Carbohydrates, Diet-Fads, Low-Fat, excess sugar, video-games, ‘public education’, binge drinking, smoking and more, more…more. Always a distraction.

I note Picasso’s quote because I feel, at current, that the task set for me is to strip off as much of this excess modern/progressivist/consumer bullshit as possible. Sounds angsty, it is, it can’t be helped. I haven’t watched TV for years now, I borrow a Netflix account but can’t really focus on it anymore, it seems like a mimicry of TV more than TV in itself. I highly recommend David Foster Wallace’s E Unibus Pluram on this. I kept up with the political stuff for a while, moved back and forth, up and down, between colours, isms etc. It’s all sort of dry after you come to accept GNON in abstract. Even then I couldn’t care less, largely because anyone whose very nature inclines them to be interested in becoming a politician leads me to distrust them (I am pro anonymous-leader). The Internet was great, most of the old net is gone, weirdly lost. Now we’re post-Facebook-slump. An odd malaise of repetition where due to the absolute influx and accessibility of data very rarely are arguments even formulated, we can attend to multiple biases at one time, alluding to the fact that we probably don’t really know, or maybe we do, either way, there’s something inherently shut-the-fuckable about the internet in general. The carbs thing is a little bit of a quip, sure, but it’s true. I grew up in this era of culture so removed from its substance that what one interacted with was either consumption & production, or malaise and a sense of mourning. Normie or death. I could go on.

My point being is a point that has been repeated time and time and time again, you’re probably not very close to yourself, strip back the layers and see what you find. A digression. At work, before I leave off, I eat a can of tuna out of the tin prior to the gym. My work colleagues still sort of grin, grimace or poke fun at the act, it doesn’t bother me…it bothers them, ha. However, it was an act that made me realise how utterly removed from reality the average person is. “Look at this dude! He’s eating food in…in a…err…not normal way! HA! Got ‘im!” What happened? It’s like Oedipus got an upgrade between 2000 and 2010, was Facebook Oedipus’ upgrade?

Anyway, it was strangely enough a sort of pinnacle moment for me. I was just finishing up my dissertation around the time the tuna-mocking began and was going to be freed up so I thought for a long time on why it resonated with me so much, why that simple act had really conceptually rattled me. I’ll be honest, I still can’t really pinpoint why, or what about it is so apt, but the long and short is, it was the most perfect metaphor for the reality of the average homo-economicus, it was as ‘the consumer’ had suddenly popped out of the simulacrum as a pure concept and laughed at me. Imagine being that locked into to some strange form of consumerist normality that someone else just eating bland food is cause for disruption, cause for annoyance, anger…perhaps even a sort of gut level disgust at social tenacity. It was the moment that made it all click, ‘Yes,’ I said to myself ‘we are literally amidst a global socio-economic and environmental collapse…and that attitude is the nerve-system.’. All of a sudden I was free to do what I wanted, I always have been, but another layer of social gravity had fallen off – one of the last, the one just before living in the woods in a loin cloth – and I no longer gave a shit about so many more things.

Firstly I ditched my smart phone, there’s nothing smart about them. In actuality, they’re likely the most boring things ever made. Pray tell, what do you do on a smartphone? Check Facebook, dull. Check apps, you don’t need to do that all the time. There’s little point to them and most likely you’ll never look at anything you do on them after the first time. So I’m back to an old phone and text mobile, which is basically just for calls…so it’s basically always off and I’m free to do what I want without people interrupting me. Mobile phones are inherently rude, “Sorry, I’ll just stop you there, I have to answer this.” Wait, what? Since when did that become the norm. Then I basically stripped back my possessions. I still have a few bits I’m clinging due largely because of sunk cost, but I’d argue that in monetary terms my possessions (leaving aside my car and home) are as follows: 80% books, 10% clothes, 5% memberships (gym, karate and online) and the other 5% is random. I eat a carnivore diet but will be transitioning to locally sourced soon ‘cus of the collapse. Get Used to Local Potatoes Now and Avoid the Rush.

I’ll be honest once you ditch your smartphone, Facebook, Netflix, TV and having a PC on all the time, your half way to getting back to some sort of original state. By that I don’t mean authentic, I just mean as close to un-tampered with as possible. You suddenly have loads of time, more worth, less worry and more concern and conscientiousness.

You ever try take a walk in the woods in last 5 years, on your own, no attachments. Try it, your brain will most likely act like a worm having a seizure. “But…but…what the fuck do I….DO!” Go be.

Anyways, that was a little thing I wanted to sort of shoot out very quickly tonight, will touch on many of these topics again. But be prepared for Z/Acc stuff, lots of it.

Anti-Pleroma: Progressivism Bows to the Yoke

What is the pleroma? In Gnostic spirituality it is fullness, wholeness and a completion of the self.

First and foremost is that there is a ‘more-than-personal’ Gnostic element within reality, a pneumatic element that is organic to the human psyche. Forthwith called the pneuma. This element the pneuma carries a dialogue with the personal element of our selfhood – ego, human-security-system etc. – through the use of symbols. The pneuma is not silent. It is a not a silent partner in one’s life and demands active participation in the growth, metamorphosis and transformation of the individual. The symbols utilized by the pneuma are dreams, visions and altered states of consciousness. These symbols reveal a path of development which can be traced both backwards and forwards in time. Prior to understanding and acceptance of the pneuma comes multiple painful and seemingly cynical and pessimistic phases.

The Gnostic Process: agone or drama/contest; pathos or defeat; threnos or lamentation; and theophania, divinely accomplished redemption. That which halts this process, stifles it, are unconscious forces, blind and foolish powers – projections. Demiurgoi and archons: Fashioner/architect and ruler respectively. Those who bow to the powers of the aforementioned blind and foolish make the grave mistake of bowing to the yoke –

“One cannot free oneself by bowing to the yoke, but only by breaking it.”

This piece could stretch ideologically to the far reaches of space in time in relation to man’s adherence to symbolic projections of egoist desires, yet my focus is on the contemporary myth of progress and those who bow to its yoke. Acting unconsciously to a nature created artificially.

Cometh the drama, come forth the symbols of virtue, that which the progressive rolls around in like a pig in shit. Placards, protests, t-shirts, revolutionary attitudes, transgression, debauchery, reveling, egotistical pontificating, the dramas of the self-centered forever focused inward, towards the human, human, human. Drama is human. All that is to dramatic effect has at its heart a human beat and rhythm. For there cannot be drama of the cosmos, not in the gossipy way we think of drama. The calm and illusive apathy of the universe is far from dramatic, at least from its own ‘perspective’. Progress needs drama. Stability needs little except understanding as to the ‘why’ of the stable itself. To disturb the waters one must usher in an age of uncertain, dramatic protest that orbits the habitats of the strange and ostracized. Drama is needed for those who can’t take the clear path, for they are simply inept. To progress is to assume a position in which there is something that must be progressed, and for this we have found little reason, and yet we still ‘progress’. The dramatic layer atop of the myth of progress is the alluring excitement of virtue, ‘community’ and belonging. But tell me, how can one ‘belong’ to that which is ever moving?

Then there’s that pause of the protest isn’t there? The bell ring of silence as you contemplate your meaningless, your lack of awareness, your assimilation into a system of symbols so confusingly simple that you just melt into confusion and nausea. The silence of one’s pneuma acts as a constant reminder of the more that is simplicity and nothingness. Now as for you Mr Progress(ive), you, I know, will go back to screaming louder. Man the placards and release the symbols of war!

Then the defeat. Yet the defeat never comes, not now and not ever. For the defeat of progress is merely more drama. It is not as defeat should often be, a moment for reflection unto the general aims of the group or community as to whether they are true, no. For the progressive defeat and failure are systematic attacks on truth, they are glitches in their irrefutable mode of being. Failure for the progressive is always conspiracy, idiocy, fault of the other. Think Brexit or Trump for two contemporary examples. The progressive does not accept for a minute their own deified religion of democracies’ actuality, no. They cannot accept that the many may see things differently from them. The Brexiteers and Trump voters are simply, a priori wrong, at fault and incorrect. This is not a ‘defeat’ it is simply not correct. There is never defeat, only confusion, nonacceptance and ignorance. Like a parasite eating its own arse. For progressives every failure is a victory, for their failures are proof and vindication that the system they protest against is in fact against them.

“Why wont they speak about being lizards?! SEE! I told you they were lizards!”

They whine and whine about their non-defeat to the point wherein those who are critical to progress begin cramming all manner of things into their ears. “Stop this incessant noise! Why wont this failure simply accept and be quiet!” But no, those are not in-with-the-myth become quiet, silent almost, a community of hermits who know not of themselves. And when the curtains of many booths close over the backs of many silent hermits, the votes begin to be counted, and alas, once again, it is we who are wrong…again. I simply cannot believe the majority has been wrong this many times. The great idiocy of democracy, the beauty of its craft within the hands of a thrifty politician is as such:

X wasn’t really wanted ‘apparently’: “Oh my, I cannot believe the people did this. We shall repair your mistakes!”

X was really wanted ‘apparently’: “I had faith in the people from the off! Our party shall bring our decision to greatness!”

If one cannot be defeated then lamentation never comes, the divine reward of the pleroma never comes. Progression without clear limits is a loop of desire and narcissism. A snake cycling into its own arsehole forever.

“Jung has repeatedly pointed out that whenever prolonged onesidedness occurs within the conscious attitude of the individual, a countering compensatory action takes place within the unconscious.” [1]

You know that you know. And we know that you know. And what is it that you know? Well it is the truth, the mind-numbing static of the unconscious. Like a battering ram against virtue, every waking our you have to find a strange soapbox for your attitude, your vices, your virtues. You crave numbers as a means for justification. Well, the truth doesn’t need a soapbox. That which is fed to me through the tightest gauze by a grovelling fat mass over and over again is that which I doubt. I cannot explain this in a more articulate manner or in a clearer way. And why not? Because at the back, down there, within and with-outside is that which you wont attempt to near, some gut level urge, defiance or tradition you cannot look in the eye. Oh, to never be still. To never even contemplate the possibility of the pleroma, of stillness. The privilege of silence, intelligence and competency, you say. Systematic this ‘n that. That which doesn’t fit becomes a ‘studies’. Your proofs are your own, birthed from your own systems, they are conscious and sprung from conscious, they shan’t ever be. And you know it.

Progress melts at the sight/site of the unconscious.

 

 

[1] The Gnostic Jung

Admin: #2

Rarely do I break into anything administrative on this blog. But as my Twitter gained quite a bit of traction over the last 6 months and I decided to begin Hermitix I feel a note on my quasi-silence is in order.

Basically, I started up Hermitix at entirely the wrong time in relation to a multitude of in-real-life things out of my control. As soon as episode 4 landed irl decided to plummet downward in many directions all at once. Everything is somewhat ok, though it really isn’t great to be quite frank. I mean, in terms of irl details it’s the usual shit. I met a lovely girl though. So god knows how long this odd intermission will be, maybe months to be honest. That said, I’m still jotting down ideas and have actually recorded some of series 2.

It’s quite odd that a blog that brings in no revenue – though Hermitix has a few Patreons now – adds quite a bit of pressure, the idea I need to constantly keep up with content creation or everything will just explode. So everything is still going ahead, I am still here, just this really isn’t a priority right now. Maybe when I come back I’ll add a load of stuff to the blog, I’ve been meaning to do a blogroll for ages. There’s really great content out there at the moment. Everything’s moving so quick, you lose focus for just a second and you feel like your volumes behind.

Stay safe everyone. My DMs are still open as always.

 

No Mirror No More

“The objective man who no longer curses and grumbles like the pessimist, the ideal scholar, in whom the scientific instinct after thousands of total and partial failures all of a sudden comes into bloom and keeps flowering to the end, is surely one of the most valuable of implements there are, but he belongs in the hands of someone more powerful. He is only a tool, we say. He is a mirror – he is no “end in himself.” The objective man is, in fact, a mirror: accustomed to submit before everything which wishes to be known, without any delight other than that available in knowing and “mirroring back” – he waits until something comes along and then spreads himself out tenderly so that light footsteps and the spiritual essences slipping past are not lost on his surface and skin. What is still left of his “person” seems to him accidental, often a matter of chance, even more often disruptive, so much has he become a conduit and reflection for strange shapes and experiences. He reflects about “himself” with effort and is not infrequently wrong. He readily gets himself confused with others. He makes mistakes concerning his own needs, and it’s only here that he is coarse and careless. Perhaps he gets anxious about his health or about the pettiness and stifling atmosphere of wife and friend or about the lack of companions and society – indeed, he forces himself to think about his anxieties: but it’s no use! His thoughts have already wandered off to some more general example, and tomorrow he knows as little as he knew yesterday about how he might be helped.” – Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 207

Oh but what of the subjective man, the nu-man of the latest years! Who grumbles and whines like a sordid lamb, blithering to and fro attending to its delicate wool and mutton. An ideal scholar no more, but a pitiful researcher tumbling into the destitute forever of the internet, pulling data and e-ink around in a whirlwind of self-obsessed conformity. Nothing no but agreement with the self. No bloom, no Spring, no Summer – in fact, no season at all for he to live within, only a stagnant existence of identity and the tug of each and every social whim. Nietzsche speaks of a mirror, a mirror that no longer exists as far as I can see. The reflection acts a way to see that one is not an end in himself but a labyrinth of mirrors, ducts and chambers splaying out into a willed infinity. But of course, the mirror was shattered, I know not when, only that each fragment of its death has been taken away, most likely chained the bottom of the deepest ocean – objectivity death as the mirror shatters – No more ‘mirroring back’ only continual self, identity and progress, without the reactionary reflection of he who can see he’s but a flesh, there can be no real progress, only a dainty skipping into miserable weakness. The new man does no spread himself, nor act upon himself, no. He directs himself to a supposed causal linearity towards which is his most politically dutiful desires…he thinks. Virtue, hedonism, liberation, emancipation. I spit on these terms with a smile and call them what they are, empty-headed lack of reflection from he whom knows not even the possibility of reflection.

No essence past the skin, for flesh is all, flesh for fucking and diving and frolicking and licking and sucking, flesh to be hungover, flesh for the comedown and flesh to get fat, flesh to get cut off again once the whale begins to cry. The surface of the skin has lost every trace, it’s a toxic container for socio-political determined delights, extrinsic personalities flood the sublime, and it rots and rots. Of course he who cannot reflect is left for eternity entirely whole, a unification of failures kept as successes, of idiocy maintained as truth, and of activism as a replacement for the heart. For he who never had the possibility of a mirror, and as such of reflection remains alone in an acidic humanist reverbaration, pulsing into the tug of the absolute fall. OH! He is not confused with others! Never confusing himself with no one! He knows himself and only himself, his loop, his return, his eternity is only he. And it is such a he that couldn’t change, a priori identity branding, flesh as a tag of self-righteous cawing.

Line the streets with placards high! Higher! Cast them to the sky and feel your lack pulse into ther ether! Walking through the thresher of the socius a virtue-clad cunt, destined to fall upon a cosmically pathetic handout. Oh poor boys and sons, groveling into the tear filled gutters, I beg you arise, but begging’s not my business. I’m neither sat atop a mountain, nor am I down in the abyss. I’m imminent to you all, as you are to me. Without a mirror to see, without a mirror to cast your gaze anywhere else but into a Cartesian echo. My mirror is weak, but into its bleak stains, and cob-webbed haeccity I witness you, all of you…sucking the infected ringworm out of the cosmos’ anus, allow to the defecation to tumble into your nostrils and hair, delighted in your stench. A phase-shift of patheticism emanates from your very being, all because you lack the mirror, the mirror that was never allowed for you!

Callous anxiety and pithy depression/ pilled hedons run amock/ A thousand more to the fall/ landfill humanity acts as reverb/ and the beat goes on.

TSPDT7

This is a disappointing entry into my series, it really is, there’s no questioning the feeble nature of my analytic skills this time around. We begin with Murnau’s Tabu (1931) and hell, I got nothing to say, the film bored me, I struggled to watch, I found it utterly tiresome with very little to drag from its odd domain. Le Million (1931) was a non-find. Which brings me to this entry’s biggest flop City Lights (1931) often heralded as Chaplin’s magnum opus this film did very little for me. Chaplin’s ‘Tramp’ is a try-hard and I cannot be bothered with him, I find something so utterly despicable about his presence, his fumbling, tripping and accidental luck frustrate me, his conclusions make me role my eyes and his faux-sentimentality makes his suspicious, I said before and I shall say again, Chaplin simply doesn’t fit this era…Chaplin and school shootings cannot coexist. A Nous Le Liberte (1931) forgettable, I left it a little while before writing this entry and I cannot remember a single thing of this film.

Finally, some light in the darkness, Fritz Lang’s M (1931) is a masterpiece, there’s no question. I wont bother with comparison, ranking against Metropolis, they’re too different. From its very beginning M brings from the outside sounds and paranoia, a danger lurks just out of sight for us viewers, there’s a constant unease – even with killer in shot – that control has been lost and something entirely unnannounced may enter diagonally into the social-linear at any moment. This world of M rife with purchase of crime fiction, with crime and danger as capital and commodity, a societal lust for both overrides the real danger of a psychotic break. And thus from this mass connection via the overarching spell and enticement of crime begins the media’s hysteria, fuelled by fear, paranoia and murder; a mass contagion brough into existence by the failure of authority to act, to secure and to make those accountable safe. And so the murder is needed by many as a structural pivot. The media needs its existence to fuel their profits, the police their job and so society, the public are the ones left nearest the outside. A lot gets lost amongst the smoke of a hundred smoking gents here. The truth of danger flutters into a nothingness amongst the lusts and profits of the apathetic. The whistle warning offscreen marks the neglect of family, of children, of the family-unit. That which should be protected is currently at danger from the malicious whistle.