"man is finished when he becomes altruistic- instead of saying simply 'i am no longer worth anything,' the moral lie in the mouth of the decadant says: 'nothing is worth anything' [next to God]- 'life is not worth anything' Such a judgement represents, after all, a grave danger, it is contagious- on the uterly morbid soil of society it soon grows up luxeriously, now in the form of religion, Christianity..."
Are christians the real nihilists? A group who humbles themself infinitly smaller than their God, rejecting all natural instincts of selfish ambition and self-protection, and they say 'to die is gain.' Perhaps our syphilitic atheist friend is onto something here.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Monday, June 13, 2005
the quiet ones
standing in a crowd, people passing one another in all different directions. everything is moving voices and shuffled footsteps, laughter and city noises all funnel into one indistinguishable cloud of vibration that passes through you. face after face passes by you and you try to discern the lives of each as they brush by, lives you'll never see again, and you wonder why they even exist. how can so many individuals exist and never truly be aware of anyone other than themselves? how did we all come to this unspoken agreement that we shouldn't speak to each other? that everyone else doesn't really matter? a friendly smile and turn of the head as we cease to exist to each other.
standing still, unnoticed, observing but not participating. after a while you get used to it, the need to be seen, to be worth something is replaced by the desire to understand. musing about life and the lives of others, reading mannerisms and words, hidden smiles and hidden tears. you are no longer part of the crowd, separate from the experiment, an observer of some laboratory test, life in a vacuum. outside of life and soon outside of lives, separate yourself from those around you and soon your feelings are all your own. Inconsequential details, that is all you are.
others notice your position but it doesn't affect them, a fly on the wall is not to be bothered with, usually not cared about, and soon nobody remembers it still exists. it becomes a hypothetical life, to others you are no more than a passing thought, a stranger in the crowd. these, they are the ones who are able to divine more about those around them then most, they posses the ability to read people seeing deeper and further than most. to some it is an admirable quality, but never much more than a passing consideration.
that's how it feels, to sit in silence and exist only to myself, i have made a stranger out of everyone around me, they pass me in a crowd and do not recognize me. you forget how to feel, or least people forget you have feelings, that you too have emotions. cold and stoic, like a statue in a city square, when in reality there is so much on the inside, too many feelings and thoughts held onto for so long, fighting for air, that to start to express them now would appear too unnatural, too much like everyone else, their true depth, my feelings, would not be done justice.
the noises have long since died, all you can hear now is the piercing silence of being alone. the mind wanders without restraint and those incongruent pieces of life are magnified and analyzed, put on trial, the jury is hung, finding no meaning and all your mind does is wander still. question everything you know, find all your faults, all your failures and the ways you have wronged those you loved, ghosts from the past, they haunt you day and night because no one is there to scare them away, no one is there to comfort you. how hard it is to realize you are not the person you once were, not the same, things always change.
sanity is something to cling to, not your natural disposition. loneliness and independence are too confused and mingled to be separated, your fate is sealed and the once incredible is becoming the inevitable. the most subtle kind of panic reveals itself and you send out warning signals to anyone who might notice, like flares in the night, you ask for someone to save you form and revive your hardening heart. but no one seems to see you drowning, they smile and pass you by, like a stranger in the crowd. shoulders brush and a heartless smile, keep on walking. how have i arrived here?
scared, you want to scream but the words do not form, the voice does not rise up, you have realized your identity apart from the masses, and in so doing you are completely separated from them. is this what you wanted? to know yourself, it seems, is to know you are alone, and to know that no one else has any idea. self actualization or self condemnation?
standing still, unnoticed, observing but not participating. after a while you get used to it, the need to be seen, to be worth something is replaced by the desire to understand. musing about life and the lives of others, reading mannerisms and words, hidden smiles and hidden tears. you are no longer part of the crowd, separate from the experiment, an observer of some laboratory test, life in a vacuum. outside of life and soon outside of lives, separate yourself from those around you and soon your feelings are all your own. Inconsequential details, that is all you are.
others notice your position but it doesn't affect them, a fly on the wall is not to be bothered with, usually not cared about, and soon nobody remembers it still exists. it becomes a hypothetical life, to others you are no more than a passing thought, a stranger in the crowd. these, they are the ones who are able to divine more about those around them then most, they posses the ability to read people seeing deeper and further than most. to some it is an admirable quality, but never much more than a passing consideration.
that's how it feels, to sit in silence and exist only to myself, i have made a stranger out of everyone around me, they pass me in a crowd and do not recognize me. you forget how to feel, or least people forget you have feelings, that you too have emotions. cold and stoic, like a statue in a city square, when in reality there is so much on the inside, too many feelings and thoughts held onto for so long, fighting for air, that to start to express them now would appear too unnatural, too much like everyone else, their true depth, my feelings, would not be done justice.
the noises have long since died, all you can hear now is the piercing silence of being alone. the mind wanders without restraint and those incongruent pieces of life are magnified and analyzed, put on trial, the jury is hung, finding no meaning and all your mind does is wander still. question everything you know, find all your faults, all your failures and the ways you have wronged those you loved, ghosts from the past, they haunt you day and night because no one is there to scare them away, no one is there to comfort you. how hard it is to realize you are not the person you once were, not the same, things always change.
sanity is something to cling to, not your natural disposition. loneliness and independence are too confused and mingled to be separated, your fate is sealed and the once incredible is becoming the inevitable. the most subtle kind of panic reveals itself and you send out warning signals to anyone who might notice, like flares in the night, you ask for someone to save you form and revive your hardening heart. but no one seems to see you drowning, they smile and pass you by, like a stranger in the crowd. shoulders brush and a heartless smile, keep on walking. how have i arrived here?
scared, you want to scream but the words do not form, the voice does not rise up, you have realized your identity apart from the masses, and in so doing you are completely separated from them. is this what you wanted? to know yourself, it seems, is to know you are alone, and to know that no one else has any idea. self actualization or self condemnation?
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
introductions
i believe in a god, but freud says it's not because there is a god, or because i have any valid reason to hold such a belief, but it is actually my personal projection of my father, due to the fact that i secretly want to kill my father and be my father, this going back to darwin's theory that a group of brothers killed their horde leader, father, in order to end his dominance over their lives and that they might procure for themselves a piece of that action. of course they felt guilty and, through a long process of mourning and ritualizing, they deified their dad, which eventually evolved into the religions of today. so we, freud and myself, differ as to the origins and underlying causes for my belief, but i did not get on here to talk about god, but i am, because the actual reason as to why i am here escapes me at present.
from the limited amount of other blogs i have read, the theme seems to be the individuality of each person and how they express themselves through words; their thoughts, this is the medium which allows them to reflect on their own individuality and share parts of their person that are not naturally or easily manifested in everyday life. is that what i am doing? maybe. hardly do i ever know exactly what it is i am doing, i only know afterwards that it has been done, and so, here is, or has the potential to become, my outlet. i like my secrets and i covet my own thoughts and experiences, my feelings are my own, they seem less than genuine if they are shared and analyzed or understood by others, but explosions are the alternative. so what is next, i hardly ever know.
from the limited amount of other blogs i have read, the theme seems to be the individuality of each person and how they express themselves through words; their thoughts, this is the medium which allows them to reflect on their own individuality and share parts of their person that are not naturally or easily manifested in everyday life. is that what i am doing? maybe. hardly do i ever know exactly what it is i am doing, i only know afterwards that it has been done, and so, here is, or has the potential to become, my outlet. i like my secrets and i covet my own thoughts and experiences, my feelings are my own, they seem less than genuine if they are shared and analyzed or understood by others, but explosions are the alternative. so what is next, i hardly ever know.
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