An Intermittent Journal
Copyright © 2013 John O'Loughlin
Nazi Germany liquidated some six million Jews, the vast majority of whom were not German, only for 4-5 million Moslems to take their non-Aryan place in the Federal Republic of Germany. Surely an ironic commentary upon history?
The fragmentary nature of modern society, its lack of social cohesion, derives in no small measure from the multicultural, multiracial reality that characterizes it, leading to social alienation and exclusiveness. This is no easy age to live in!
An immense feeling of liberation from the damned pavements of north London (not to mention London in general) overcame me when out walking the sidewalks of Galway City, everywhere macadamised in one way or another, which is how, from a non-liberal/social-democratic standpoint, it should be. All those fucking/sodding pavements of north London – and more specifically of Hornsey, Crouch End, and Wood Green - do nothing but get me down, depress and psychologically humiliate me because I am Irish, not British, and find state-hegemonic criteria repulsive, a parallel of sorts, down at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, to hardback and paperback books, including novels, which will always be around so long as these pavements are around and this kind of society or civilization in general remains around, despite what anybody might have to say – and not for the first time - about their imminent demise or social irrelevance. The sidewalks of Galway, on the other hand, are more to my taste, being, if anything, the product of a Catholic mentality down at the southwest point of the axial compass in question, and I like to think they would parallel eBook literature, whether or not of a fictional orientation.
The cemetery on the outskirts of Athenry was lacking in symmetry and it was difficult, in consequence, to locate the grave of my maternal grandmother, whom I had been led to believe was buried there, possibly since 1961 or 1962, a year or so before, with the coast finally clear, my mother packed me off to a children's home in Carshalton Beeches, Surrey, and I bade goodbye to life in Aldershot, Hants. Her maiden name was Payne, but there was only one Payne listed on the noticeboard containing the names of those buried there, namely a Bridget Payne, whom my mother had led me to believe was her sister, whereas my grandmother's first name was – or had been – Mary. The plot number of this other Payne was 304, but strangely enough none of the graves was marked, as far as I could see, with numbers, so locating that particular grave was no easy task in view of the large number of graves involved. She had apparently been buried, this Bridget Payne, in June 1961, which would have been around the time of my grandmother's death, and for a moment I thought it might be her, that her real first name was not Mary but Bridget. I only knew that my grandmother, whom I adored as a child, had been buried in her home town of Athenry, together with her sister (Bridget).
I am afraid and deeply saddened by the fact that no-one would have attended to the grave in all these years, and that may have been an additional reason why I could not locate it, presuming it overgrown or somehow effaced. All in all, a deeply distressing situation, compounded by the fact that my mother, who at the time of writing is still alive, has only ever fed me sketchy and vague information, some of which, at one time or another, had been blatantly contradictory, like her telling me, several years ago, that her mother's first name was Polly!
It's no wonder I'm confused! But when I pressed her recently about the location of her mother's grave, she had no idea at all, only saying, as before, that she had personally seen to her burial, having travelled back to Co. Galway with the coffin. But the grave, alas, had been neglected all these years, and therefore it was difficult if not impossible for me to locate it and make some small attempt to recognize it and perhaps tidy or clean it up a bit, whatever that might entail. I feel so utterly helpless and, at the same time, angry and frustrated that I couldn't even lay some flowers. Some people continue to get a raw deal even in death!
The Irish flag, the tricolour, is rather like the weather in Ireland, with violent and sudden shifts between rain and sunshine, but with a fair amount of cloud coming in-between. Hence the green of rain, the white of cloud, and the orange (or gold) of sunshine, with, alas, more green than white or orange!
In the evening one hears the thwack of tennis balls going to and fro next door in the Galway Lawn Tennis and Health Club. I never much cared for tennis, rarely if ever having played it (at school). In fact, it was for me one of those taboo occupations, like chess and golf. How unlike Ezra Pound!
So much drama, so little karma.
The sidewalks of Ireland vis-a-vis the pavements of Britain.
The Irish are loquacious, the British – and in particular the English – reserved. Alpha and omega.
Ireland wouldn't be Ireland without the rain. If you don't like rain, don't go to Ireland, because you're bound, sooner or later, to get soaked, shot through with a wind-fuelled rain that has a certain acerbity about it which is quite unpleasant and very likely to piss you off.
In Ireland male self-esteem drains away with the weather; you become less self-conscious and correspondingly more open to other people, especially women. The notion of trusting in your stars or, alternatively, in some guardian angel makes more sense in Ireland than does trusting in yourself as a male, since the female aspects of life, which are primary, are noticeably more prevalent than in, say, England, being, in any case, fundamental to life.
Everywhere where substance exists – meals, fruit, sweets, cakes, refreshments, etc. - women are behind it and live, like caryatids, to serve it. Being intellectually or spiritually independent (to a degree) or contrary to all this is, for the male, more usually a product of misfortune than of calculated intent, since males are only capable, when true to themselves, of abstractions – ideas, philosophies, ideologies, religions, laws , etc., which usually come to grief in relation to a reality dominated by females and, hence, by what is concrete.
We can, as males, hope for and dream of a better world, an altogether different type of society, but that is only a manifestation, so to speak, of the abstract, and is always up against the concrete realities of a world characterized by female domination which it would be difficult if not impossible to overthrow, since abstractions are no match for the concrete basis of life in female power and glory, will and spirit. The male attempt to overthrow this concretion from an abstract standpoint (the only standpoint according with anything properly male, and therefore with what is contrary to such concretion even though extrapolated from it) leads inevitably to failure, of which the crucifixional paradigm of the so-called Saviour is a case in point, a potent symbol of religious failure in the face of concrete reality, be that reality scientific or political.
The Judeo-Christian tradition, with its subconsciously-truncated metachemistry and its subsensuously-truncated metaphysics, could be regarded as being flanked, in an anterior manner, by the supersensuously-biased Hindu tradition on the one hand and, in a posterior manner, by the superconsciously-biased Buddhist tradition on the other hand, each of which does more justice to metachemistry and to metaphysics, respectively, than would anything Judeo-Christian. Frankly, the truncated metachemistry of Judaic monotheism and the truncated metaphysics of Christian (Roman Catholic) theism are less indicative of a human-orientated alpha (metachemistry) and omega (metaphysics) than of an alpha-stemming worldliness in the one case and of an omega-orientated worldliness in the other case, neither of which would be anywhere near as scientific (metachemical) nor as religious (metaphysical) as their Hindu and Buddhist counterparts.
The sight of all those fat shiny books in bookshops is, frankly, depressing to anyone who is capable of regarding life from a standpoint centred in eScrolls and eBooks, both of which could be argued as pertaining to an axis at variance with that upon which the vast majority of books, whether hardback or paperback, exist – presumably in polarity to magazines of one sort or another.
There was a man who, through no particular fault of his own, lived in hell or what he regarded as such, namely London, with its double-decker red buses and, at the lower end or pole of the axis he perceived as being state-hegemonic, its underground lines and trains taking millions of people to and from work. Even his accommodation in a bedsitter with shared bathroom, toilet, kitchen, garden, landing, hallway, front door, etc., was a part – indeed a bigger part – of this hell, particularly since most of his immediate neighbours (those in the same tenement) were not of his ethnic persuasion but, at times, radically at variance with what he would have considered compatible behaviour or outlook upon life.
He lived, as I say, in hell and suffered enormously. But one day the lord of this hell, call him devil or landlord or whatever, granted him the fulfilment of anything he wished for – anything! So after due reflection our man opted for heaven, a place where there were no square-looking red buses or underground trains or, indeed, overcrowded tenements populated with disparate ethnicities whose lifestyles were often in conflict. This heaven was less like London and more like a suburban part of Galway City or even Clifden or Athenry in County Galway in Ireland, and it was very different from anything he had ever known – in fact, so different was it, with its single-decker green buses and overground trains, not to mention houses on pretty modern estates with more space and privacy than was to be found in his previous abode, that he did not feel so much at home there as he had imagined he would – indeed, he felt positively strange and cut off, like someone or something from an alien planet. After a week our wishful thinker was begging the devil to let him return to hell and the life with which he was familiar, no matter how painfully.
So the devil said to himself: 'Why should I let God profit from him when he is only too willing to carry on letting me exploit him as before?' So he granted the poor man the right to return to hell on the proviso that he would never try to leave it again, and so he did, almost grateful to the devil for having taken him back. And that, I'm afraid, is the moral of this sad tale. People become so accustomed to suffering in hell that they would rather continue to do so than move to heaven and have the benefit of some peace and quiet. Our man is only too typical of the great majority of persons trapped in hell who, though they fear the devil or demons that daily torment them, lack faith in their ability to handle heaven and live in an altogether different environment – and way – from that to which, over several years if not decades, they have become so painfully accustomed.
Bruce Dickinson sings, on one of his solo albums, about those who do it and those that get done, as germane to what he calls the two sides of life, but unlike the Iron Maiden vocalist I maintain that life is more complex than that even in, though not necessarily to any great extent, this day and age of alpha-stemming if not alpha-oriented secularity, and would like to think that those who get delivered from the ones that do it are – or will be – of the Saved, especially when meekly pseudo-male.
What can be unequivocally said of the so-called Creator, or so-called God (the Father), which, in its metachemical objectivity, is really Devil the Mother, the cosmic and, in particular, stellar absolutism autocratically behind Nature and its predatory cruelty? I'll tell you what: that 'it' is absolutely evil and absolutely criminal – evil in its somatic freedom and criminal in its psychic binding, the ratio of the one to the other being in the (absolute) ratio of 3:1, like supersensuousness vis-a-vis subconsciousness, or supernature vis-a-vis subnurture, or superheathenism vis-a-vis subchristianity, or superfemininity vis-a-vis submasculinity, and so on, with the former attributes in all cases evil (metachemically freely somatic) and the latter attributes … criminal (metachemically unfreely psychic, or germane to bound psyche). That is what the Creator, the so-called God of the Jews and, indeed, of the Judeo-Christian tradition actually amounts to, and it is my belief that no self-respecting and civilized human being, least of all when male, could possibly condone or respect it. On the contrary, it should be paramount on his list of what needs to be rejected, if life is to progress to a truly cultural civilization worthy of being identified with 'Kingdom Come'.
I have always been intimidated by women with painted nails, particularly when their fingernails are painted red and appear to be dripping with the blood of their natural prey – men. Baudelaire wrote about nature being red in tooth and claw, and certainly the nature of women is such that their painted lips and nails approximate to that description of nature and to its predatory instinct to kill what is useful to the survival of the predator – in this case women, who are more than able, as a rule, to pick off men, effectively killing them by rendering subordinate to the reproductive impulse that which, did it not lose it head to a woman, would be capable of a life lived in and for the mind, even to the extent whereby the Life Eternal becomes its heavenly reward.
Killed off by women, however, men succumb to the flesh and to the inevitable mortality of the flesh, which is certain death. This 'life temporal' is everywhere and at all times the human norm, and whilst for women it is the deathly life of life through killing, for men it is the living death of bodily subservience to female flesh – what Baudelaire, that truly great and much-maligned French poet, scornfully dismissed in males as a mark of their being 'slaves of a slave' and a mere 'trickle in the sewer'. Simply put, the Life Eternal is not possible to those who succumb to women, as do the vast majority of men, thereby confirming their secondary gender status vis-a-vis those for whom the meaning of life is fundamentally success in regards to reproduction.
Where flat-screen TVs are concerned, I guess 'gogglebox' would be an anachronistic form of slang.
If a young female adult is any good, so to speak, she should be aspiring downwards from metachemistry to chemistry, as from beauty and love (coupled subconsciously with ugliness and hatred) to pride and strength (coupled unconsciously with humility and weakness), thereby abandoning – if only temporarily – the objective ethereal for the objective corporeal and the attendant acquirement, in consequence, of a surrogate plenum, namely the child, to alleviate the vacuousness or emptiness of her fundamental (free somatically-materialist/bound psychically-fundamentalist) condition.
If a young male adult is any good, so to speak, he should be aspiring upwards from physics to metaphysics, as from knowledge and pleasure (coupled unsensuously with ignorance and pain) to joy and truth (coupled subsensuously with woe and illusion), thereby abandoning – if only intermittently – the subjective corporeal for the subjective ethereal and the attainment, in consequence, of that grace (coupled subordinately to wisdom) which is salvation from the world … of being vulnerable to female predation (necessity) and, hence, domination within the context, most especially, of family ties. All of which, were it to succeed even temporarily, would be very much against the natural grain and therefore an extremely difficult not to say uphill task, requiring an exceptional degree of determination and even, in some paradoxical way, luck, since this is not the 'way of the world' but, on the contrary, the only way out of the world in terms of otherworldly values which, taken to their logical conclusion, would also require the neutralized subordination of females to the paramount or hegemonic sway of Heaven, as germane to the achievement of metaphysical salvation. Such subordination I have termed pseudo-metachemical, and I identify it with counter-damnation as the necessary corollary of the salvation of males to metaphysics.
This, I am afraid, is the truth about religious salvation … as the prerogative and preserve of adult males who have the ability to leave females behind in their determination to 'take up the Cross', as it were, and follow Christ into Heaven. That, to be sure, was the Christian age and civilization. The coming age of what Oswald Spengler, the philosopher of history, calls 'Second Religiousness', will require a more evolved approach to salvation (coupled, for females, with counter-damnation) in order to establish anything remotely resembling 'Kingdom Come', the Superchristian outcome, so to speak, of all previous efforts in the direction of such an otherworldly paradise. This more evolved approach to salvation, commensurate with global requirement, I identify with Social Theocracy and/or Social Transcendentalism, the means whereby 'Kingdom Come' may be achieved.
But don't, for one moment, underestimate the immense difficulty of such a task, even if, at the same time, that would not necessarily be a good enough reason to dismiss the prospect of salvation as unattainable, because the only alternative is then the world and the everlasting perpetuation of female domination through reproduction. If you are resigned to that, as many if not most males tend to be, then you are not aspiring upwards from physics to metaphysics but, in all probability, following the female around in subordinate vein as a kind of pseudo-metaphysical and/or pseudo-physical 'sonofabitch' ever beholden to the hegemonic sway of both metachemistry and chemistry, which is, after all, where we began this article.
Night in, morning out, afternoon in, evening out – the cycle of my days with regard to the use of malleable wax earplugs, which I have been dependent on since coming to London in 1974.
It's not about how many books you sell; it is about what kind of books you write and, secondarily, how they are published, whether as hardbacks, softbacks (paperbacks), audio books, or eBooks.
Pets and pests – and, in my lengthy experience, more pests than pets!
We're encouraged, not least by monotheism, to think of ourselves as having a unitary self, all-of-a-piece. But the evidence to the contrary, akin to the polytheism which preceded Judaic monotheism, is incontrovertible, as when one finds oneself seriously contradicting something one had said or thought before, though usually within a slightly or even substantially different context, taking a completely or partially different line of argument.
I believe the notion of a unitary self is a convenient over-simplification designed, with or without religious prompting, to paste over the cracks of disunity and uncertainty, if not moral contradiction, that are a daily occurrence. We all have two parents of opposite sex, which would in itself be grounds enough for contradiction or disunity, not to say mental ambivalence that sometimes spills over into ambiguity. But in back of the two parents are four grandparents, in back of them eight great-grandparents, in back of the eight great-grandparents sixteen great-great-grandparents, and so on, with more and more differentiation the further back you go in ancestral terms. It may be we strive for a unitary self in the case of both personal and species specific evolution, if only to simplify things, but it would appear we are still some way from achieving it at this point in time, given the manifest contradictions which bombard us on all sides.
A unitary self within a democratic and/or plutocratic society is difficult if not impossible to conceive of, especially since choice breeds ambivalence and tends, rather, to encourage disunity within the put-upon individual, who then falls back upon the crowd, upon some kind of social or multitudinous support. If theocracy, when to any degree genuine, is more likely to encourage a unitary concept of self through God (monotheism), then it could be argued that autocracy, its alpha-oriented antithesis, is more prone to the encouragement of anti-self, meaning that which is anti-psyche and, indeed, anti-soul. But that would be to look at it from a standpoint theocratically orientated towards psychic self, not to allow for the other type of self which, being fundamentally female in character, is somatic and therefore bodily by nature, tending towards the concrete as opposed to the abstract. And it is precisely this type or manifestation of self that autocracy encourages!
Our age, being objectivist and feminist, remains somewhat partial to the somatic self, even as it embraces, through democratic and plutocratic alternatives to autocracy, a more ambivalent sense of self which may well arise from the interplay and/or alternations of soma and psyche, of female and male selves in perpetual conflict through the mechanism of choice. The triumph of psychic self, which is male, over both the somatic self of autocracy and the ambivalent selves of democratic and plutocratic liberalism is still, at this point in time, some way off, assuming it were possible through an ultimate theocracy (Social Theocracy?) that had the wherewithal to supersede both the world (of political and economic intermediate orientations, so to speak) and the netherworld (of scientific freedom) from a standpoint truly centred in otherworldly (religious) values, and therefore in the interests of 'Kingdom Come', as that which favours only the psychic self and requires, as corollary, the neutralization and subordination of the somatic self, a situation akin, it seems to me, to St George and the Dragon or, equally, to the lamb and the (neutralized) lion and/or wolf of Biblical metaphor, not to mention, more gender specifically, the crucifixional paradigm itself.
Such an advanced stage of life would most certainly have transcended the world, especially in its democratic (republican socialist) manifestation, and made life extremely difficult, if not impossible, for both netherworldly autocratic and worldly plutocratic societies, thereby serving to nullify them in the interests of an unequivocal commitment to otherworldly values premised upon the hegemony of metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry, as of psychic self (male) over pseudo-somatic self (female), the free over the bound, the latter of which, through neutralization, would be obliged to 'lie down' with the former, a plane down from metaphysics in what has been termed pseudo-metachemistry.
Only thus can an evolutionary outcome favouring the establishment of a unitary self (One with God in Heaven) be guaranteed, and it will be as different from contemporary pluralism (in both soma and a limited degree of psyche) as, say, Judaic monotheism from Hindu polytheism, or Christian monotheism from pagan (Greco-Roman) polytheism. May it soon transpire!
Beethoven's symphonies generally bore me to death. Such turgidity and monotonous repetition! Great for his time he may have been, but these days such greatness is apt to sound – dated! For me, Beethoven is at his best in the piano sonatas, especially the so-called 'Moonlight' and the 'Waldstein', which is nothing short of miraculous, particularly in the taut rhythms of the first movement, which the marvellous German film 'Four Minutes' has been instrumental in highlighting.
From a mature male perspective there is nothing more important or desirable in life than peace of mind. Unfortunately, in this world, what with its objective impositions of an adult female and juvenile, not to say infantile, nature, peace of mind tends to be the adult male exception to the general rule of mental torment … brought about, more often than not, by other people!
Whatever simple or base people may say, I am – and remain – one of the greatest writers of my time, a writer who has scaled the utmost metaphysical heights and brought my initial quest for logical perfection to philosophical completion, and all without a shred of encouragement, help, or acknowledgement, let alone recognition from anybody else, least of all the 'great British public' and immigrant or foreign populations amongst whom it has been my sad fate to live. Therefore I have triumphed over them and concluded, irrespective of whatever obstacles they may have put in my way, my life's goal of intellectual and philosophical perfection, a perfection that most people would not even be capable of envisaging, let alone comprehending!
From the standpoint of the higher man, the genuine male, the masses are there to be dictated to and mastered, not kowtowed to after the fashion of a democratic politician cadging votes. It is only through the efforts of exceptional higher men that the masses can be led forwards and upwards, even into 'Kingdom Come', as the form or mode of society which is most omega-orientated and least alpha-orientated and/or alpha-stemming.
Such an ultimate form of society, commensurate with the guarantee through religious sovereignty of peace of mind for adult males, can only be against nature and, hence, females, signifying, by contrast, the triumph of metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry, which is equivalent to the hegemony of the lamb (of godliness) over the (neutralized) lion and/or wolf of predatory imposition, the hegemonic triumph, in short, of the Y-chromosome of male freedom (from somatic imposition) over the neutralized XX-chromosome of female binding or, more correctly, pseudo-binding to somatic constraint. Freed from somatic imposition, the adult male can then be true to his self and thereby given to that peace of mind which appertains to being at one with one's self in psychic harmony.
On the other hand, the female who is still free to somatically impose her will and/or spirit usually renders the male subordinate to herself in psychic binding or, more correctly, pseudo-binding. Salvation for the male, as female-subordinate pseudo-male, is from such pseudo-binding, the product of female hegemonic control in the world, to the peace of mind which is commensurate with being true to one's self, one's soul, in a psyche set free of its fetters.
I believe a distinction can be made between public lighting and heating on the one hand, and private lighting and heating on the other hand, as though between a stellar/solar parallel in the one case, and a Saturnian/Venusian parallel in the other case, with the former options approximating to metachemistry/pseudo-metaphysics and the latter ones, by contrast, to metaphysics/pseudo-metachemistry, particularly when involving the use of electricity. For it does seem, contrary to what I may once have thought, that lighting and heating are divisible along alpha and omega lines, as though indicative of a sensual/sensible antithesis.
Strictly speaking, the public forms of lighting and heating would suggest, in keeping with the metachemical/pseudo-metaphysical distinction alluded to above, the hegemony of heat over light or, more correctly, pseudo-light, alpha and pseudo-omega, whereas the private forms of lighting and heating would suggest, in keeping with the aforementioned metaphysical/pseudo-metachemical distinction, the hegemony of light over pseudo-heat, omega and pseudo-alpha, corresponding not, like the former, to space and pseudo-time but, in complete contrast, to time and pseudo-space.
Ladies and pseudo-gentlemen vis-a-vis gentlemen and pseudo-ladies – you know, from my omega/pseudo-alpha predilections, which ones I prefer, and they tend, in metaphysics/pseudo-metachemistry, to be theocratic and pseudo-autocratic as opposed to autocratic and pseudo-theocratic, like the metachemical/pseudo-metaphysical ladies and pseudo-gentlemen, the latter of whom, when under amoral pressure descending from above, tend to become anti-metaphysically unlocked (from pseudo-metaphysics) and to behave, in quasi-metachemical fashion, like ladies, only worse – much, much worse!
The biggest religious mistake, which is effectively an atomic delusion, is to equate God, Heaven, the Soul – in short, all 'no-things' metaphysical – with the Creation of the World and, indeed, the so-called Universe behind it. This we can and should no longer do, because we live in a post-atomic age that requires us to sharply differentiate between the alpha of 'things' (Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father) and the coming omega of 'no-things' (Heaven the Holy Soul), of which God … the Father or, more correctly, godfatherliness … is merely a superconscious concomitant akin to the candlelight that is candle-flame seen from outside the burning of the flame itself. Such, in an analogical sense, is what God or, rather, godliness is, and in this metaphysical context separated-out from metachemistry, godliness is only the outer face, as it were, of the inner essence of Heaven, the Soul, Being, etc. Strictly speaking, it is one and the same as Heaven, this godly outer face, since there is no godliness independent of Heaven, or joyful soul. All the rest – Creation, the Universe, God as Creator, etc., is religious delusion, worthy only to be consigned to the proverbial rubbish bin of atomic (Christian) and pre-atomic (Judaic) history, since the Judeo-Christian tradition can have no place in or relevance to the future development, beyond its current phase (alpha-stemming rather than alpha-orientated), of global civilization.
In relation to the hegemonic gender positions, the British axial polarity, northwest to southeast points of the intercardinal axial compass (state-hegemonic) is effectively one between female nobs (no other nation has had so many long-ruling female monarchs) and male plebs, whereas the Irish axial polarity, southwest to northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass (church-hegemonic) is effectively one between female plebs and male nobs (the holy fathers).
At the Retinal Therapy Unit of Moorfields Hospital on Friday afternoon you need to be an extremely patient patient both before and in between the various processes that have to be undergone in the interests of some degree of retinal progress in relation to AMD (age-related macular degeneration), the condition from which I have been diagnosed as suffering. Patience was, I think, in abundance today, the occasion of my third – and hopefully final – Lucentis injection into the left eye, which is terribly sore, though not so much because of that as because of its inherent condition. Here's hoping for some more progress towards something approaching normality or, at any rate, a more tolerable outcome!
Woman is a serving animal, but one who dominates through service.
Cinema and television – media of the Star (absolute and relative) that reflect the society-oriented objectivity of female domination through Nature.
There may still be a British nation, but I can't believe it has anything to do with the large numbers of immigrants and foreigners that now outnumber the British themselves in several cities or specific areas of cities where, strange to say, white faces are comparatively few in number, and whole streets appear to be populated by persons of coloured ethnicity or origin. I admit that I can't, as someone of Irish descent, pretend to feel comfortable in such places, much as I often find the British themselves detestably juvenile if not infantile in character.
'Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold' … wrote Yeats in one of his better poems, and that is certainly true of latter-day Britain, which seems to be disintegrating under pressure of the mass ethnic diversity which now characterizes it. Certain politicians in Britain may speak, somewhat glibly, of 'national unity', the 'big society', and in terms of other such banal phrases evidently designed to consolidate or further their ambitions, but there is little evidence of it and scarcely any prospect of things improving in the foreseeable future, when all the evidence of the senses points to greater fragmentation and disunity under the scourge of multiculturalism.
As for the English Defence League, understandable as that may be in the circumstances, they will have a very uphill task, not to say climb, of trying to defend England from the multicultural and ethnic diversity which contributes so much towards the disunity and divisiveness with which it is now so grossly afflicted! Frankly I see no way back for England, never mind Britain which, even without ongoing devolution in Scotland and Wales, is inexorably pulling itself further apart with each passing day.
The United Kingdom is, it seems to me, a fiction in all but name, even if the division of Ireland, in consequence of partition, persists as one of the grosser facts of our time and as one, moreover, which no self-respecting Irishman should take for granted or allow himself to become overly complacent about. The division and emaciation of Ireland is not something one should forgive the British for, even if their hand was somewhat forced by historical circumstances deriving, in any case, from their imperial past. Ethnic intransigence, much as it may be frowned upon in Britain, remains a fact of life in Ireland, and such facts are no joke. The only thing that can be said in Ireland's favour at this juncture in time, however, is that, at least in the Republic, it is less under the sway of Jews than Britain, and therefore even now the prospect of national unity within the broader European Union (EU) framework remains both a challenge and hope for the future. For it is only logical that as Britain falls further apart, Ireland should become increasingly unified, even up to the point, eventually, of unity between all thirty-two counties in a greater Irish nation, the outcome, I would suggest, of Social Theocratic progress.
Suppressing their emotions in favour of cold logic, the British scorn religion and, hence, the soul. A people bereft of metaphysics because constitutionally dominated by metachemistry.
Politicians, hamstrung by 'political correctness' and/or vote-cadging requirements, rarely say anything of moral or intellectual, never mind political significance. They tend, rather, to avoid the obvious and to skirt around topics that could – and should – be treated in a more forthright not to say commonsensical manner. British politicians bore me to death.
One of the worst things about living in London is the daily sight and sound of the red double-decker buses, of which there are apparently several thousand. So metachemically square and indicative, somehow, of state-hegemonic criteria, like, at the other pole of what is in effect a state-hegemonic axis, the metro, or underground. Neither of those modes of transport have any appeal to me, and, as an Irishman of Catholic descent, I do my level best to avoid them.
Ultimately the only 'dragon', 'lion', 'wolf', or whatever to be neutralized is the female of the species, without whose neutralization (in 'Kingdom Come') the male adult will continue to play 'second fiddle' in a world dominated by females and characterized by 'family values'. You do not espouse, let alone achieve, a society characterized by otherworldly values (hegemonic over pseudo-netherworldly ones) by endorsing the world, least of all the one (there are in fact two principal types of worldliness as characterized by axial division) dominated by female hegemonic criteria in what used, in the Christian or Catholic West, to be Marian vein, but is nowadays more likely, under some degree of republican socialist criteria, to be akin to the Delacroix (strange name for such a painter) icon of 'Liberty (the embodiment of female values) leading the People' … back up towards metachemistry as the type of the free female (feminist bitch) par excellence, who has to 'strut her stuff' (upstairs) before she can hope to achieve a surrogate plenum (to temporarily relieve the emptiness of her fundamentally vacuous condition) through maternity and, hence, world-perpetuating propagation, both of which, I regret to say, would get Old Testament sanction.
Socialism is a bitch and bitches suck. Therefore socialism sucks.
I detest the whole bitch-ridden socialistic disposition that poisons the individual and makes culture, in any genuine sense of the term, virtually impossible. Not only do sociable people suck, they lack any sense of self and, hence, culture of the soul.
The Artist, Philosopher-King, or whatever, stands apart from society like one who knows about a better world which he feels it his duty to depict, one way or another, according to his medium. Society, for him, is a threat to his art, his thought, his vision. He avoids it whenever and wherever possible.
When, like myself, you are axially single-decker to overground (the El, or elevated train line), it follows that you will not be too partial to double-decker to underground (the metro), since that will be axially at variance with your ethnic (and gender) predilection for church-hegemonic axial criteria, being, by contrast, decidedly a confirmation and reflection of state-hegemonic axial criteria. The former axis tends to predominate in the Republic of Ireland, the latter one in the United Kingdom, not least in England and, in particular, London.
It's a sad fact, but most people prefer to live in ignorance than to have the benefit of knowledge, whether or not because of a fear that such knowledge would expose their shortcomings or undermine their self-esteem or bring them into conflict with the system, or whatever. Knowledge for them would be like a mirror held up to their face, albeit one that was apt to show them in a poor or distorted light.
Besides which, there are class barriers over which ignorance dare not jump … from fear of encountering a new form of knowledge and/or a type of knowledge inimical to class interests.
Ignorance is only painful once it has been exposed by knowledge.
Knowledge is often a compensation for the fact that we live in ignorance of our destinies, blindly groping, through knowledge, for a possible key or lead to the future, even though the future is not always what we make it, but sometimes what others make of us.
Those who experience bliss, which is a form of self-knowledge, are rarely ignorant.
'Kingdom Come' will only come when the People elect to de-mystify themselves, thereby embracing Truth. Wishful thinking? Ionnesco would certainly think so!
The permissive age or the so-called permissive society – permission, through want of religion, to be either a bitch or a sonofabitch, and to be either with virtual impunity. The modern age par excellence.
For me, the worst of all possible worlds, or deals, is having to live with the scrapings of the British Empire when you're not British but Irish. An improbable juxtaposition of ethnically incompatible types … making for a strung-out, up-tight existence in the city.
These days I write with more ease, fluency, and even frequency than was formerly the case – doubtless a sign of advancing age if not impending senility.
The mindset of the masses is linked to certain prejudicial archetypes – moral, ethnic, racial, cultural, sexual, etc. - which they are rarely able to transcend, largely because prejudice is a consequence not so much of ignorance as of suffering and the general intolerance if not hatred of others that arises from having to endure them too often and too closely.
A writer is a person who writes. The question then arises: What kind of writer are you – dramatic, poetic, prosodic, or philosophic? I can confidently say of myself that I am a philosophical kind of writer who occasionally falls back on poetry as if descending, in axial terms, from overground trains to single-decker buses, since of Irish Catholic descent.
There are others, I full know, who would be the converse of that, occasionally ascending from poetry to philosophy, and still others who, given to opposite axial predilections, would be partial to either drama or fiction, or maybe even to a descent, as it were, from plays to the occasional novel, as from double-decker buses to conventional rail and/or the underground, or perhaps even ascending or, rather, counter-ascending from prose to the occasional play, as from trains of the aforementioned types to double-decker buses, or something to that effect.
In the case of prose, I think one has to distinguish, moreover, between the liberal democratic novelist and his social democratic counterpart, as though between conventional trains (not elevated) and the metro, or, in book-publishing terms, hardbacks and paperbacks (softbacks), not to mention, in terms of writing implements, between, say, fountain pens and biros, the latter surely a kind of proletarian alternative to the bourgeois type of pen which I would regard as typifying liberal democratic criteria in general.
Be that as it may, I am not one of those writers who writes in state-hegemonic axial terms, whether with regard to double-decker type drama (plays) or to conventional train/underground type prose (novels), since my preferred axis is demonstrably church-hegemonic, as though from single-decker buses at the southwest point of the intercardinal axial compass to overground trains (the El) at the northeast point thereof, with a predilection less poetic than, as noted above, philosophic, which has resulted in a number of aphoristic not to say supernotational (the term is mine) works of an intensely ideological and comprehensively-exacting logical order to which the state-hegemonic British pay little or no attention, given their predilection for plays and novels at the expense not merely of philosophy but, not altogether surprisingly, of poetry too.
This, I know, is an oversimplification; for things are rarely cut-and-dried, as they say, and my writings, being logically comprehensive, have documented, like no other writer, the distinctions between hegemonic and subordinate gender positions at each and every point of the intercardinal axial compass, thereby doing justice to the further distinctions between drama and pseudo-poetry at the northwest point of the said compass, between pseudo-philosophy and fiction at the southeast point thereof, a point polar, in state-hegemonic terms, to the northwest, as also to the further distinctions between pseudo-drama and poetry at the southwest point of the compass in question, and between philosophy and pseudo-fiction at the northeast point thereof, a point polar, in church-hegemonic terms, to the southwest, not least in terms of philosophy to poetry, my own gender predilection with an emphasis, it need not be forgotten, on philosophy, albeit a philosophy 'fertilized', from time to time, by poetry or, at any rate, by some kind of poetic injection of metaphorical licence. Voilà!
Salvation means nothing if not unequivocally associated with the deliverance of males or, more correctly, pseudo-males from female dominion, an eventuality, no matter how seemingly implausible in today's world, requiring the correlative counter-damnation of females to a position subordinate, in pseudo-metachemistry, to metaphysics, like pseudo-space (spaced) under time (repetitive) at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass on what would have to be the stepped-up (resurrected) church-hegemonic axis, no longer beholden to metachemical domination, but completely independent of all materialist/fundamentalist constraints such that, formerly, would have anchored extrapolations of a Christian nature.
A big ask, to be sure, but never despair! For the alternative is what you've got, not least under state-hegemonic domination.
Saving all from sin irrespective of gender – isn't that the Christian delusion fuelled by a certain worldly relativity, an almost androgynous want of proper gender discrimination which was to lead, in due course, to the downfall of Western civilization as the Protestant heresy (issuing in state-hegemonic axial criteria) gained in secular momentum, resulting in the alpha-stemming if not alpha-orientated feminism and so-called gender equalitarianism of today.
In Britain, a society dominated by females, with a female sovereign (not for the first time), is a more or less taken-for-granted situation, despite the pretensions of right-wing parliamentarians/puritans to male-hegemonic control. Whether they like it or not, such persons are compromised by the monarchic/anglican rule, like the Gideon New Testament by the King James Bible in which there is, of course, more Old Testament than New. Britain is the land, par excellence, where no opt-out clause from female dominion along the lines of religious idealism is taken seriously, and where, in consequence, the concept, never mind prospect, of 'Kingdom Come' is a non-starter. I am not, of course, talking about Catholic, gay, or other exceptions to the general rule, but about the rule itself, all the way down from the northwest to the southeast points of the intercardinal axial compass on what is, by any definition, a state-hegemonic axis.
As a rule, females are less ambivalent and/or ambiguous than males, 'cutting to the chase', as the American saying goes, with a ruthless precision that is, to a male mind, positively frightening in its directness – a divergent product of objectivity.
It is one of the ironies of history that the Irish got their Catholicism from the Norman English, who replaced the Celtic Christianity of Ireland with their own Rome-oriented form of Christianity. Another is that the Church of Ireland seems more Irish than its Roman counterpart, which is, after all, Roman and not Irish.
The overwhelming majority of symphonies – that classical art form par excellence – are composed along state-hegemonic lines, with a preponderating polarity between brass and strings that normally favours the latter, as though with a bias for physics as against metachemistry, or vegetation (earth) as against fire, or mass as against space. I can't pretend, with my dislike of state-hegemonic axial criteria (double-decker red buses to conventional ground – as opposed to overground or underground – trains), to be greatly enamoured of symphonic instrumental norms, even if the music itself is often quite pleasing.
You can't imagine how horrible it is all your adult life to be doing one thing – and to be doing it to an exceptionally high standard – while being pressurised into doing something else, something completely at variance with one's wishes and predilections as a writer. This is the fate I have endured as an Irishman in Britain. Bad enough that one should be 'doing one's thing' in a place so barbarously inimical to it!
It was a dream than turned into a nightmare as he found himself first sitting upstairs in a red double-decker bus and then alighting from it only to descend several steps into an underground station from which prospect he awoke in a screaming sweat, as though unable to take being rubbed up the wrong (axial) way – a man of Irish Catholic origin – to such a deplorable extent. 'I've had enough of this!' he cried, before realizing it was only a bad dream and that he was still in bed, with no immediate threat of either double-decker red buses or underground trains. 'Phew! What a relief!' he sighed. And yet how indicative this was of what it meant to be in exile from his native land, where single-decker green buses and even the prospect of overground rail services, as in the better parts of Germany, were generally more prevalent. But Ireland was still a country – possibly partly if not largely due to the British state-of-affairs existing in Northern Ireland - where they drove on the left, like Britain, and not, on that account, akin to its continental partners in the euro zone, including its paymaster, Germany!
'Don't be clear with me, sonny!' he snapped. 'I've had enough bitching for one day, as it is!'
I believe neither in the equality of the genders, the equality of the races, the equality of the classes, nor the equality of the ethnicities. Those who do believe in equality in such matters strike me as being deluded, whether through superficiality, perversion, vanity, partiality, or whatever.
Women lead to kids. I detest kids. Therefore women are to be avoided.
I dislike kids. Kids come from women. Therefore I don't like women.
They speak rather glibly of the creative mind behind Nature, but they would do better to refer to the stellar-like inception of the Cosmos and what naturally follows from it in terms of a creative body, since there is far more soma than psyche in Nature, which is probably a testament to the fact that 'the Creator', or creative force, is rather more female than male in character. That's why I call it Devil the Mother, since the notion of God the Father in the Beginning is a bit rich, to say the least, and testifies more to male pretensions and wishful thinking than to the objective and largely bodily nature of diurnal reality.
Creative minds, on the other hand, being male, come somewhat later in chronological time, and are apt, when true, to be rather more against Nature and the Cosmos than for it in consequence of it. If they are for anything, it is more likely to be that which transcends Nature, whether as civilization or culture or some kind of combination of the two. Indeed, taken to its logical conclusion, this would result in a position not merely contrary to Nature but antithetical to the Cosmos, with the maximization of mind and, as its inevitable corollary, the minimization of bodily soma. In other words, to a saint and neutralized dragon-like paradigm which would signify the ultimate triumph of the male principle (psyche) over the female one (soma) and a total rejection, in consequence, of creative bodies behind Nature – a rejection, in short, of Creator-ism as deriving from the Bible.
It follows quite inevitably that in an alpha-orientated and alpha-stemming age, when cinema and television are so prevalent, the bodily nature of the age will be partial to gender equalitarianism, since women can hardly be treated, let alone regarded, as inferior to men when they more epitomize precisely those bodily norms that are to the forefront of contemporary civilization which, ironically, is less civil and cultural than barbarous and philistine – more precisely, barbarous and pseudo-philistine in metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, and pseudo-barbarous and philistine in chemistry and pseudo-physics at the southwest point thereof, a point more germane to television than to cinema, but no-less characterized, if from a contrary axial standpoint, by female dominion.
Thus when females are hegemonic, as in metachemistry and chemistry, the idea of gender equalitarianism is not only inevitable but, sorry to say, does not even reflect the actual realities obtaining in those contexts, where males, as pseudo-males, are in a subordinate (sonofabitch-like) position under females and can – and indeed should – speak, when married, of their 'better half' where the greater somatic (bodily) disposition of the female is concerned.
It is only, by contrast, in a civil and cultural age or society, properly commensurate with civilization, that the situation would be reversed, and females, being less psychic (or given to mind) than their male counterparts, would be in the inferior position, whether as pseudo-chemistry under physics at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass or, more absolutely, as pseudo-metachemistry under metaphysics at the northeast point thereof, with no pretensions to gender equalitarianism then existing.
At present, however, we are still at some remove from that more civilized possibility. But a day must surely come when the intolerable reality, from a male standpoint, of having to play 'second fiddle', so to speak, to hegemonic females in terms of somatic, or bodily, licence will have been consigned to the proverbial rubbish bin of history, as people – and males in particular – opt for a higher kind of civilization commensurate, through culture and pseudo-civility in metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry, with 'Kingdom Come'.
In the meantime, bodily criteria will continue to prevail, not least with cinema and television, as will the delusion that female hegemonic positions in metachemistry and chemistry actually make for gender equality.
Why don't we hear more about the alpha female, the free female of libertarian not to say feminist persuasion? Perhaps that would only be possible if we heard less about the so-called alpha male, the pseudo-male who, in reality, is either a pseudo-omega 'sonofabitch' or, if he comes unstuck from pseudo-physics (via anti-physics) or from pseudo-metaphysics (via anti-metaphysics) under unbearable female hegemonic pressure, the quasi-female, quasi-alpha idiot who, in quasi-chemistry or quasi-metachemistry, outdoes the chemical or metachemical female, the alpha female, at her own game, so to speak, ascending from a plane down in each case with a ratio of free soma and bound psyche (contrary to his male gender actuality) the converse in either relative (1½:2½) or absolute (1:3) terms, of the female ratio (of 2½:1½ free soma to bound psyche in chemistry and 3:1 free soma to bound psyche in metachemistry).
No wonder 'he' gets a bad name, even if this departure from the plane below in each class case is still, even in this day and age of female dominion, the exception to the general rule (of being a 'sonofabitch'), albeit one likely to lead either to prison or even to death.
I intimated in the previous entry that I didn't really believe in gender equalitarianism because contemporary society tended to manifest female dominion through female-hegemonic criteria in metachemistry and chemistry, and in that respect I believe my viewpoint to be correct, since global civilization in its contemporary, or alpha-orientated and alpha-stemming modes, can be characterized by the prevalence of feminism as an exemplification, I maintain, of secular barbarism within societies where, as a rule, the male is rather more philistine in his gender subordination than overly barbarous, or objective.
But gender equalitarianism, or the objective thereof, can be seen to have preceded this female-dominated mode of civilization, and precisely in relation to what may be termed bourgeois decadence, meaning the female vicar-like pre-feminist extension of opportunity not incompatible, in other contexts, with the widening of the democratic franchise, so that the right of females to an education previously reserved to males, and then only to privileged males, can be regarded as an aspect of this drive towards gender equalitarianism commensurate with bourgeois (mainly Protestant-derived) decadence in societies where the paperback has come to supplant, though not entirely replace, the more bodily hardback, and the availability of books – and therefore information and education as well as entertainment – to greater numbers of persons who might previously have been excluded from such reading-matter or its presentation thereof can be construed as a manifestation of this tendency towards equalitarianism, albeit motivated, through bourgeois decadence, by commercial necessity and even ambition that somehow still falls well short, in its petty-bourgeois nature, of the outright barbarity of the global proletariat, whose prime means of 'cultural' presentation would not be the book, not even when in paperback format, but, rather, the film, and thus cinema and/or television.
Therefore if there is a place for the concept of gender equalitarianism in relation to bourgeois decadence, with the female 'priest' or vicar being a case in point, the overwhelming evidence of female dominion in relation to global barbarism of the proletariat would suggest that such equalitarianism has been eclipsed, to all intents and purposes, by a new form of gender inequality favouring, whether through feminism or some entertainment-based stardom, females.
Are not the proletariat, as industrial workers or urban dwellers, beyond humanism, that bourgeois ideal? Then what significance can the term 'proletarian humanism' have if not to disguise the underlying petty-bourgeois reality of the omega-most point of humanism as a bourgeois phenomenon. Doubtless there is – and has long been – a kind of petty-bourgeois/proletarian overlap, whereby the proletariat are identified – falsely it may well be – with humanism by their petty-bourgeois masters and so-called revolutionary leaders. In which case we need to be more categorically exact and, frankly, disciplined, ascribing to the proletariat a post-humanist status having, through industrial and technological associations, what may be called proto-cyborgistic overtones commensurate with a global age and civilization rooted, barbarously, in manual labour and the objective dominance, overall, of females.
You exist because somebody fathered you into existence. Tough!
Writers who do little else but think and write are the only ones worth reading.
This life is a battleground where the male almost invariably loses out to the female.
Nietzsche is the type of the artist-philosopher whom I most esteem – self-made and self-assertive, with no apologies for being what one is.
The so-called 'creative mind' behind Nature - that notion, to return to it once again, stems from a male input. The reality, on mature reflection, would be more akin to a 'creative body', but that would almost certainly have required a female author which, historically, would have been highly paradoxical.
As noted above, I always prefer gentlemen and pseudo-ladies to ladies and pseudo-gentlemen, like preferring joy and pseudo-ugliness, free soul and pseudo-bound will in metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry to beauty and pseudo-woe, free will and pseudo-bound soul in metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics. Actually, understatements aside, I intensely dislike the latter, there being no compromise between antithetical absolutes.
Yes, it is definitely the case that gender equalitarianism has inexorably led to the gender inequality favouring females, like bourgeois decadence to proletarian barbarism, female vicars to feminists.
While I may despise gender equalitarianism, I remain contemptuous of female-oriented gender inequality.
Today's society is morally worse than that which preceded it, with the decadence of Western civilization, but more artificial, like so-called rock 'n' roll to classical, electric music to its acoustic counterpart.
I've always believed my work, my philosophical writings, etc., to be just as good (great?) as Nietzsche's, if not in some respects better.
The contemporary predilection for rating creative products – CDs, DVDs, etc. - with stars is reminiscent of the graded stars one would get at infants school as a form of marking for work (or play), thereby suggesting the infantile nature of star ratings. In this respect, the term 'rat race' takes on a new meaning.
We live, alas, in a post-equalitarian world dominated by females. Bourgeois decadence having led to proletarian barbarism, like the end of the West to the beginning of global civilization, which now vainly 'struts its stuff' all over the place with a swagger and bluster that owes nothing to sensibility and virtually everything to its sensual antithesis.
Ireland, I have to say, wouldn't be a particularly attractive country to live in. The weather is too regularly awful!
A country bogged down in religious superstition because it rains for hours and hours with little or no reprieve – that is Ireland.
The Virgin Mary on her knees, but is she praying for more rain or a reprieve from rain because of her Son? Truly, Ireland is a land shrouded in a 'veil of tears' in the form of the rain, which is often shot through with a vicious wind that gives it a certain acerbity likely to chill you to the bone.
The chief blight on England, by contrast, is not so much the weather (curiously enough) as the plethora of foreign elements that make for division and, hence, strife. This has always, in a way, been the chief blight on England, a land of plenty whose material wealth attracts foreigners like a magnet.
To persevere in the face of foreign opposition to and dislike of one's culture – that, it seems to me, is a must. Otherwise … well, why go on living?
Multiracial, multicultural societies are inherently bad because of their divisive and disruptive influence upon the soul. There is too much competition and too little cooperation, too many conflicting types of lifestyle or attitude getting on one's nerves. The ancestral environments some of these people hail from were not conducive, it has to be said, to the cultivation of introversion or sensibility or even solitude, the prerequisite for any noticeable degree of sensibility.
I intensely dislike the idea of working for anybody else, not least because it leads to a form of self-betrayal that can be likened to prostitution.
The greatest men always work for and by themselves against, if needs be, everybody else. Serving others is not really a male predilection but stems, rather, from a vacuous want of subjectivity – in short, from a female disposition.
The truly greatest men not only work for or by themselves, but tend to remain single and more or less celibate, defying women. Such men as Schopenhauer, Beethoven, Baudelaire, Brahms, Nietzsche, even Tchaikovsky would surely qualify in this regard.
The twentieth century represents a petty-bourgeois falling away from the standards of greatness set by the leading artists and philosophers of the preceding century, with more involvement in the Arts by women and a correspondingly greater influence of women upon men, to their subjective detriment.
Internet slavery, whereby one prostitutes one's soul for financial gain, is, if not fast supplanting, then certainly superseding other forms of slavery.
Some say that people who are free to leave the job they are in are not slaves; but this does not make them free to stop working altogether, and I suspect that most people who leave one job only do so to take up another, thereby remaining enslaved to the work-a-day-world, if on a relatively liberal basis such that permits one to choose, albeit within fairly narrow limits determined by qualifications and experience, one's mode of slavery.
These days cultural greatness is even more under fire from women than it was in the age of petty-bourgeois equalitarianism, since subject to the feminist dominion of especially beautiful and even independently proud women, who ever war on the Omega from a standpoint based in the Alpha.
Ireland is a kind of backwater in the British Isles plagued by dreadful weather.
The British were – and to some extent remain – on the whole pretty good for Ireland because, through England in particular, they brought a slightly more optimistic outlook – the fruit in many respects of Protestantism - to bear upon a country hamstrung by awful weather – worse even than British weather. Without Britain, Ireland would now be even worse off and more susceptible, through persistent rain, to bog down in itself, as in a wretched past.
Those who dissociate Irish roughness and coarseness from bad weather are ignorant of Ireland, and therefore guilty of mere superficiality. Not that all Irish people are rough or coarse, least of all in the big cities.
When one does what one wants to do because one believes in and enjoys it, one is not a slave but a free man and potentially if not actually a great one, capable of feats of greatness. That work which is voluntarily entered in to and taken as far as one can take it is not slavery but a monument to vocational freedom.
That man who, having been a sheep, can turn himself into more than a sheep, perhaps even a kind of shepherd, would have to have been a black sheep capable, through having read the finest writings, of thinking for himself and breaking away from the flock.
When truth is a biscuit, the biscuit is a lie.
I have never been able to get over a marked distaste for business. I could never be a businessman.
Surfing for credits with so-called traffic-generating websites, or traffic exchanges, is not only a complete waste of time; it is actually soul-destroying. As an artist or, in my case, artist-philosopher selling eBooks, you are in a minority of one per cent.
Doing and giving precede taking and being as noumenal and phenomenal alpha vis-a-vis phenomenal and noumenal omega, the former female and the latter male, with primary and secondary implications.
In similar vein to the above (and purely as an experiment) let us distinguish speaking and writing from reading and thinking … as noumenal and phenomenal alpha (doing and giving) from phenomenal and noumenal omega (taking and being), with the former basically female and the latter essentially male, since one cannot read unless somebody has written something for one to read, and it could be argued that unless somebody has spoken, there would be little point in thinking, or in thinking about what was said.
Therefore I am going to equate speaking with doing and writing with giving on the primary (female) side of the gender divide but, by contrast, reading with taking and thinking with being on the secondary (male) side of the gender divide – the former options objective and the latter options subjective.
If this is true, then I am probably the only thinker ever to have thought about such matters in this way. Clearly, people (and females in particular) express themselves (objectively) through speech and letters, whereas people (and males in particular) impress upon themselves (subjectively) through books and thoughts. Therefore the speaker is a doer, the writer a giver, the reader a taker, and the thinker a be-er, or one who, like the philosopher, impresses thought upon his mind, the better to understand what is said, written, or even read.
But if, on noumenal terms, the speaker provides 'food for thought', then it surely follows that, on phenomenal terms, the writer provides what could be called (dr)ink for one to take in, via the eyes, to one's brain, or take cognizance of, through reading.
Both speaking and thinking, the noumenal alpha and omega (doing and being), are absolute, whereas both writing and reading, the phenomenal alpha and omega (giving and taking), are relative, requiring pen and paper or some equivalent intervening, not to say intermediate, medium for the transmission and reception of language, as for a corporeal presentation, one might say, of speech and thought. But where speech and thought, the ethereal alpha and omega, are concerned, you can speak without a pen and think without a book – expressing or impressing oneself absolutely.
There! I think I have satisfactorily concluded this experiment in correlating the different approaches to language with the aforementioned quadruplicity of doing, giving, taking, and being, a quadruplicity of philosophical terms that could just as credibly be associated with the literary genres of drama, poetry, fiction, and philosophy, or speaking, writing, reading, and thinking.
People whose language and literary predilections predominantly range between speaking and reading, the will and the ego, I hold to be of a state-hegemonic disposition commensurate with the northwest and southeast points of the intercardinal axial compass, whereas people whose language and literary predilections preponderantly range between writing and thinking, the spirit and the soul, I hold to be of a church-hegemonic disposition commensurate with the southwest and northeast points of the said compass.
I have said nothing about the subordinate gender positions which exist under the hegemonic ones at all points of the intercardinal axial compass, like pseudo-metaphysics in relation to metachemistry, or pseudo-thinking in relation to speaking, and pseudo-chemistry in relation to physics, or pseudo-writing in relation to reading, on the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate axis, but, by contrast, pseudo-physics in relation to chemistry, or pseudo-reading in relation to writing, and pseudo-metachemistry in relation to metaphysics, or pseudo-speaking in relation to thinking, on the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis, the former axis broadly Protestant and the latter one Catholic, like a kind of British/Irish ethnic divide.
Speaking and writing are more creative than reading and thinking. In fact, it is debatable whether reading and thinking, being subjective, are really creative at all. Therefore it seems to me that the creative aspect of things, akin to the so-called Creator, is not only alpha and objective as opposed to omega and subjective; it is fundamentally of female character, accruing to will and spirit, power and glory, as opposed to ego and soul, form and contentment.
The creative side of life is a fiery and watery objectivity, not a vegetative and airy subjectivity that fights shy, through taking and being, of doing and giving, like mass and time of space and volume.
A cynic would say that speaking and writing will always trump reading and thinking. I am not a cynic.
I would argue that when one is, by gender or nature, more of a speaker than anything else, indeed most speaker and least thinker, one is almost certain to be of autocratic disposition; that when one is, by gender or nature, more of a writer than anything else, indeed more writer and less reader, one is likely to be of democratic disposition; that when, through gender or nature, one is more of a reader than anything else, indeed more reader and less writer, one is likely to be of plutocratic disposition; and that when, finally, one is more of a thinker than anything else, indeed most thinker and least speaker, one is almost certainly going to be of theocratic disposition.
I wrote 'Cross-Purposes' (1979) because I knew what it was to live against one's grain as an outsider in a given kind of society or civilization. No doubt, my search for Truth, for Self, was motivated by a desire to counter this at times intolerable situation deriving from my being an Irish citizen born of an Irish father in Ireland but raised by a British-born mother in England and subsequently discovering, to my amazement and horror, that my outlook on life was more Irish than English, even though I continued to live in England.
Some day I'd like to compile an anthology drawn from various of my writings.
I tend to think much more than I write, with the latter capturing only a fraction of my thoughts.
The strange thing is not that one is alive, but that one can continue to live in spite of everything, of the hideous brutalities, insults, rip-offs, predatory advances, and obligations that are heaped upon one every day as a matter of diurnal course.
We inhabit a world with too many writers, too many books, too much of everything, including people. We suffocate under the surfeit of materialism.
Will there ever be an end to suffering? Not as long as women continue to dominate life, with reproductive consequences!
My father was a coward who didn't take responsibility for having fathered a child, and simply went back to his mother, who felt obliged to take him in, as though to spite the other woman (my mother).
Whoever pays you owns you, as does the State to which you pay taxes, etc. As a member of society, that is, as you regarded from the outside, you are owned by society, both commercially and politically, as well as scientifically, because you are financially dependent on society, including the State. That is why society can get you to do what it wants, irrespective of your feelings (too inner) or wishes (too selfish).
Where, formerly, it may have been the Church that owned your soul, spirit, ego, or whatever, through the power and glory of God, it is now the State that, through its various administrative bodies and bureaucratic institutions, owns your body, and there isn't very much, short of dropping out, that you, as an individual, can do about it. Depressing, what?
The only way to defeat this situation, to really change the existing stater-of-affairs, is through a new and ultimate church (I call it the Social Theocratic Centre) that, unlike the old church in its various denominational permutations, not only recognizes but gives you back your soul, at least as a male who may well have been deprived of it by the prevalence, through female domination, of will and spirit, and thus provides you with the necessary means of defeating the State and replacing bodily ownership with an end that is purely psychic, an otherworldly end that transcends the bodily travails of this world as it resurrects the Church and neutralizes the State, thereby precluding females from utilizing will and spirit to dominate society to the detriment, if not effective exclusion, of ego and soul, to the detriment, most especially, of true self and that truth which is nothing less than loyalty to the seat of the Self, the Soul, in the spinal cord, or central nervous system.
It is precisely the want of self-respect in males who, being subjective, should have a greater capacity for solitude than females, that makes for flight into multitude and, hence, dependence on society to solve ones ills or afflictions. But society, presided over by the State, is a stern taskmistress who exerts a high price for such dependence – namely the externalization of the person as body and the public subversion, if not effective eclipse, of the ego and soul, making for a dependence on the rule of will and spirit that keeps females in the driving seat, as it were, and more or less principal determinants of one's fate.
This is the opposite, from a male perspective, of salvation, as of religious endeavour, if really true, to turn one away from society through self-cultivation and an enhanced respect, in subjectivity, for solitude. When the Church fails in this task it is left to the Artist or, more usually, the Artist-Philosopher to step into the void and fill it with his own solution to a want of self-respect through self-awareness in the male.
One mustn't overlook the considerable contribution of musicians to the sustenance and protection of the ego (through song lyrics) and, most especially, of the soul (through feeling).
However, in connection with the above, one should note that just as the ego, duly subverted, is drawn towards the (female) spirit through sex, so can the soul, under public pressure, be drawn towards the (female) will through music which, whether or not this results in a funky jerk-off outcome, conduces towards society in respect of audience participation, a participation that, when not characterized and even conditioned by seating, can lead via dance to the triumph of will and thus to outright displays of bodily freedom – something much to be deplored from a properly soulful and, hence, male standpoint.
In this regrettable way music can become the wilful image on a higher plane, owing to the corruption of soul through will, of what usually transpires on the sexual plane below, with the corruption of ego through spirit, vegetation (the flesh) meekly striving to quench its thirst (for fluidal satisfaction) through sex.
In a post-atomic age, when the atom has been split apart through nuclear fission, homosexuality, whether gay or lesbian, makes logical – one might even say perfect – sense, insofar as it would seem to be a foreshadowing, on mundane terms, of the metaphysical/pseudo-metachemical division of the sexes along saint and (neutralized) dragon or lamb and (neutralized) lion and/or wolf lines, as germane to 'Kingdom Come' and a complete end, in consequence, to worldly relativity – in short, to everything atomic and therefore beholden to proton domination.
The Jedi are selfless, they 'think about others', not themselves, because it would appear they are of female persuasion, with no minds to think with and thereby be 'true to self', presumably like the Seth. I don't think I like the Jedi.
Yoda, on the other hand, who is not a Jedi, seems to speak English in a German manner, pushing verbs to the end of the clause or sentence.
Anakin is transformed into Darth Vader following his defeat to Obi One and descent into the lava, where he becomes facially disfigured, but nonetheless survives. - Notes written after viewing 'Star Wars III'.
No philosopher encourages anyone to dance.
The dancer, like the dramatist, is the born enemy of soul, and thus of philosophical meditation.
German ought to be compulsory (oh dear!) for every high-school pupil, with the brightest ones turning into college students, like tadpoles into frogs or, rather, a chrysalis turning into, say, a butterfly who, having escaped from the cocoon of high-school education, can now spread his wings to fly wherever he may, including, ultimately, to Germany itself, not to mention Austria and the German-speaking parts of Switzerland.
I was heading up Williamsgate Street towards Eyre Square in Galway City when, out of the crowd, somebody going in the opposite direction said: 'Hello, Oliver,' evidently alluding to me, though I couldn't quite figure why until, a few seconds later, upon reaching Eyre Square, I realized that I was wearing a baseball cap and probably looked a bit like Oliver Cromwell in consequence. That, I am afraid, is Ireland. And, for the benefit of the Catholic Irish, let me just say that you wouldn't have been feeling particularly secure or safe if you happened to be of Anglican persuasion when Oliver Cromwell was in Ireland, given the nature and outcome of the English Civil War.
A man shouting at his male kid in the street, the kid having exasperated him, caused me to forget my habitual disdain for people in such situations and almost feel sorry for him. But I quickly regained my composure and reflected on the manifest undesirability of being in that situation and, more to the point, having opted to become a father in the first place. I can think of few worse fates.
One does penance for existing through suffering, and is forgiven for living through pleasure.
Rock 'n' Roll has regressed from soft rock and progressive rock (not to mention rock classical) to hard rock and, latterly, heavy metal – a music even more mindlessly bodily than any previous incarnation of rock, as though struggling against the tide whose current flows away from rock 'n' roll towards other types of contemporary music, including electronica and trance/dance.
Heavy metal is the death of rock music, a 'danse macabre' that sinks ever lower beneath the surface of humanity to subhuman and, frankly, subterranean depths where only the demonic prevails.
The novel is as dead as the humanism that spawned it, product of a parliamentary/puritan disposition motivated by economic values. These days the race of people that fostered humanism have been swamped by so many peoples of foreign origin, many if not most of whom only inspire a certain disgust with humanity, that humanism has little or no relevance, let alone place.
Living in a lodging house owned by Bangladeshis, with four of them (one of whom is a perpetually loud-mouthed and physically-clumsy retard) on the prowl at any given time, is indescribably horrible! Never have my temper and patience been so severely tried. Frankly, I loathe them and consider this co-existence (they gradually moved in and slowly took over the property) as one of the worst experiences of my entire life – certainly the worst in terms of neighbour relations, which are akin to a perpetual war in which an ordinarily mild-mannered man finds himself bordering on psychopathic hatred because of the door-slamming brutality and physical restlessness generally obtaining with them. I don't think that, after this, I could ever look upon Bangladeshis, who are usually Sunni Muslims, as anything but extremely distasteful to me.
That is my experience, not a fanciful abstract prejudice, nor, at the opposite extreme, the product of an 'ivory tower'-like affluent isolation from such circumstances that makes for rhetorical humanitarianism and a theoretical adherence to ethnic inclusiveness and anti-racism. No-one could be further removed from such 'ivory-tower' sentiment, if not sentimentalism, than me, and I only know that if I ever get away from here, from this accursed house, as from this part of London or, indeed, London in general, I will do my utmost to ensure that I never have to live in the same house as Bangladeshis again. The smell of their food alone, which they can eat at virtually any time of day without having done a stroke of work, and which sometimes suggests to me, in its fishy rancidity, a species of fried snot, is enough to make one vomit, even if they weren't constantly on the go slamming doors and shouting up and down stairs with at times a well-nigh hysterical intensity that beggars belief....
I have had to do my own writing (fair enough), my own printing, editing, formatting, designing, publishing, promoting, etc., with no assistance, financially or otherwise, and certainly no encouragement, but I have persevered in spite of everything and the results are not usually displeasing to me, despite working within very difficult and trying circumstances. I don't care what anybody else thinks, least of all in England.
The paradox of females is that they are or can be physically attractive but mentally negative (I would even go so far as to say that the more physically attractive the woman the more, conversely, is she likely to be mentally negative) – a highly dangerous combination that ensures the male's downfall and, as a rule, subordination to their reproductive needs. Like it or not, you can only get drawn, by appearances, into something you will subsequently regret – namely, a mind at variance with essence (soul) as well, once quantity supersedes appearance, as with quality (ego), thereby negating everything male.
Wisdom counsels one, as a male adult, to avoid this fate, but wisdom is worthless and useless without a prior commitment to grace, and grace is precisely what, in religious terms, Western civilization – with the exception of certain exceptional individuals - has always lacked.
Sharing with others (never mind the fact of incompatible ethnicities) – the hoover (when there is one!), the kitchen (way too small and chock-a-block), the bathroom (with shower and bath combined), the toilet (with ill-fitting seat that slides and wobbles), the washing machine (small and stinky), the oven (overburdened by other people's cooking utensils), the electric kettle (grimy and overworked), the landing (filthy), the stairs (creaky), the hallway (narrow and full of clutter), the front door (with damaged lock from overuse), the back garden (such as it is), the rubbish bins (full to overflowing), etc., etc., is hell. And it is in this hell, riddled with neighbour animosities and dislikes, that one is expected to carry-on acting like a normal citizen (though as an Irish citizen in Britain I could never be 'normal' from a British standpoint anyway)!
An introvert, if he didn't occasionally 'let off steam', would be likely to implode. On the other hand, an extrovert who wasn't permitted or encouraged to 'let off steam' (his normal condition) would be more likely to explode.
The English have a problem with bohemian intellectuals, as with bohemian intellectualism in general, largely because they are expected to toe a middle-class line axially in cahoots with the upper class, who are the furthest removed from bohemian intellectuals/intellectualism and the epitome, for the English, of all things sacrosanct, if not sacred.
Disappearing them beneath ground until they are no more and won't ever reappear except in superhuman if not supra-human guise in the long-term apotheosis of the messianically-inspired evolutionary process. - These are the opening lines of his new poem, which remained unpublished or, rather, unfinished, because he couldn't think of what else to write.
For every endeavour to establish and adhere to an ideal, be it ever so flawed, there is an equal if contrary reaction likely to take an overly materialistic form, as the female side of life fights back with a vengeance against essentially male attempts to further the ideal. The reaction is a dreadful thing to behold, but it appears to be a law of life in this world that the ideal will not acquire universal support. Even at the domestic level this would appear to be the case, as the artist, philosopher, or whatever, finds himself surrounded and hemmed-in by any number of philistine if not barbarous nincompoops with little or no discernible sensibility. God, these bitches (and their pseudo-male devotees) are hard to defeat!
They will never accept the truth, but will do everything in their power to stand in its way, block it out, pretend it's something other than what one knows it to be, and so on, under the sway of Nature, of the beauty and strength, love and pride, that follows from a female – not a male – creative force in back of it, as of the world. This fact has always bedevilled religion, not to mention philosophy and the Arts in general.
I've never seen a goose doing anything resembling a 'goose-step', still less soldiers marching in 'goose-step' formation resembling geese. What I do see about goose-stepping soldiers is a down-to-earth emphasis compatible with a certain socialistic disposition not incompatible with church-hegemonic axial criteria (from southwest to northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass).
This would contrast with armies, like the British, given to an arm-swinging approach to marching suggestive, in its aloofness from the world, of an autocratic disposition typifying state-hegemonic axial criteria (northwest to southeast points of the intercardinal axial compass), with an emphasis on the northwest point, or pole, of the axis in question.
Therefore a contrast, in these two styles of marching, between the foot (southwest point) of the church-hegemonic axis and the head (northwest point) of the state-hegemonic axis, as though deriving from contrary ethnic traditions (catholic and protestant) that are, nonetheless, alternative forms of alpha objectivity (female in character), whether alpha-orientated (high arm-swinging) or alpha-stemming (goose-stepping).
That, at any rate, would be my perception of this marching differential.
Art, when true, is the highest form of free enterprise. The true artist, including the philosopher of religious truth, does not serve the People, like a slave to barbarism and philistinism, but in his pursuit and, ultimately, attainment of truth provides a goal for individual persons to aspire towards. He remains true to himself, to his vocational duty as an artist, and thereby transcends the world, including not least the People, who are germane to the world.
The desire for a better world, a world transcending this one in its otherworldliness, is the prerogative of the artist, the thinker, the genius, since the People themselves, who are of the world, do not habitually aspire towards such a 'better world' but seek and strive towards only an improvement of the existing one, whether through socialism or capitalism, republicanism or parliamentarianism.
The artist, aloof from both forms of worldliness, pursues his own ideal independently of the People and also of other artists. Thus he is the ultimate embodiment of free enterprise, without whom there can be no possibility of 'world overcoming' (Nietzsche) in and through 'Kingdom Come', which is the brainchild of the ultimate artist, the artist as 'philosopher king' and messianic harbinger of religious, or metaphysical, truth.
Those who defy the world in this way are alone worthy of 'Kingdom Come'.
If you don't like sport, don't go to or, worse, choose to live in Ireland. Not only the usual British sports, like football and rugby, but the traditionally more Irish sports of Gaelic (so-called) football and hurling, plus pretty much everything else, including golf and tennis, will ensure that you are never very far from the sight and sound of some kind of sports action and/or news.
Frankly, that would be the last thing I would want, since I find most sport depressing in its barbarous competitiveness and boring in its philistine execution. The less sport, as far as I'm concerned, the better!
Hurling is apparently the oldest game in Europe if not the world and, being Irish, it is played with a peculiar intensity that is chilling to behold. The hurleys (hurling sticks) remind me uncomfortably of clubs, and to be sure there is something almost Stone Age about the savage nature of this invariably high-scoring game. Not for me!
Had I grown up in Ireland I would probably have ended-up taking hurling and/or Gaelic football for granted. Instead of which, growing up in England, I not only don't understand them but don't much like them either. Not that I like rugby or football instead, though I suppose, growing up with football (soccer), I have more tolerance for the latter, which I can at least understand, if still subject to a certain moral revulsion every time somebody heads the ball. But I would hate to be in a position where I was expected or even had to encourage any male offspring of mine to play it! The fact that I am not a father means that I don't have to risk kicking a ball around some local park in five or six years time and encourage any male child of mine to do likewise or, worse, physically apply his head to it. Besides, my age alone, as someone in his sixties, would preclude any such eventuality, since I would quickly run out of breath or, more to the point, become victim to my breath getting carried away with itself and virtually choking me, as has happened on occasions in the recent past when I was stupid enough to run for a bus and discovered, to my horror, that my lungs had taken on a momentum of their own from which they seemed to be in no hurry to release me.
The artist, if genuine, has nothing to do with sport, finding it physically and morally abhorrent. Sport is for barbarians and philistines, not for civilized and cultured persons. Naturally, the masses adore sport and detest art, whereas the artist, who should never court the masses, detests sport and adores art, especially his own.
No artist who is worthy of the name ever can be a 'man of the People'. On the contrary, the People, being natural, are inimical to art and thus to the artist, who can only produce art by defying the masses and carrying on regardless, knowing full-well that his art will not be understood by the common herd, least of all in its female manifestation. Yet, then again, it was never intended for the common herd, but only for those who can rise to the appreciation of higher values, having the ability to think and act independently of the masses.
Yet that is indirectly rather than directly the case, since no genuine artist, when actively engaged in the pursuit of truth (not beauty!), actually produces anything with others in mind. On the contrary, what he does is complete in itself, not an advert for some appreciation society. For the artist, being an individual, cannot appeal to the crowd or do anything that would encourage mass appreciation which, were it to transpire, could be highly detrimental to his art, not to say to art in general, which, as in museums and galleries, is soon killed off by the masses.
Mass appreciation is for the artiste, who is fundamentally female in character and behaviour, not for the artist. Yet with the masses the artiste, everywhere apparent and actively 'in your face', is the artist! Hence the corrupting influence of the masses upon art, which risks becoming the sole preserve of the artiste, the popular entertainer, the charlatan, at the expense of truth and whatever is more genuinely male, that is, metaphysical, or essentially beyond the limitations of the masses, who have no understanding, let alone experience of, the sublime, never mind 'God in Heaven' (akin to truth in joy).
The masses, on the contrary, relate, whether directly or indirectly, to 'Hell in the Devil' (akin to love in beauty), and therefore are not disposed to genuine art. The so-called People's artist, which seems to me a contradiction in terms, is really a People's artiste, and all she/he does is reinforce those alpha-orientated and/or alpha-stemming prejudices and predilections which keep the world turning as something from which metaphysics, whether in terms of Heaven, God, or Art, is systematically excluded.
But the People, conversely, are excluded from genuine art, just as they are excluded, by their own attitudes and limitations, from Heaven and the godly face of Heaven, which is Truth.
Were Art, Heaven, Godliness ever to universally triumph, it could only be at the expense of the People. The People would have to die (to the flesh), just as Christ Himself died (in the flesh) before any prospect of Eternal Life could transpire.
Man is indeed 'something that should be overcome' (Nietzsche), but that can only happen in consequence of messianic intervention, without which the People would never die to themselves as Devil-worshipping deniers of God rooted, if not centred, in the world. If man is something that 'should be overcome', then so, too, is the world … in the name of otherworldly values centred in the Beyond, the Eternal Life of Heaven the Holy Soul.
Circumstances and experience have taught me not to like people until given sufficient grounds for revising that stance.
A clever man and an enlightened one are not necessarily the same. A clever man may, in music, prefer harmony and pseudo-melody to melody and pseudo-harmony, but an enlightened one will prefer rhythm and pseudo-pitch not only to pitch and pseudo-rhythm, but to harmony and pseudo-melody also.
Those who climbed out of barbarism to become civilized through Christianity, praying and hoping for salvation from this world to a better one, are alone human beings. The rest, bogged down in sin-worshipping sensuality and tribal barbarity, are simply a two-legged species of animal. They are not fully human, much less superhuman and/or supra-human, but subhuman(istic) animals dominated by instinct and impulse, whose creed has nothing to do with 'turning the other cheek' in order to remain 'true to self', but is fundamentally power-worshipping.
If the police are the only ones permitted to override the law in the interests of justice, then it seems not unreasonable to me that judges should be the only ones permitted to override the police in the interests of law.
A humane attitude towards pets is not incompatible with an inhumane one towards pests.
The extrovert is extrinsically (selflessly) expressive, whereas the introvert is intrinsically (selfishly) impressive.
The domination of ego and soul by will and spirit is a fact of life that follows from the primary nature of the female and the secondary nature of the male, the former soma over psyche (body over mind), and the latter psyche over soma (mind over body).
Any man, any adult male, who doesn't want to be dominated by will and spirit had better not seek the company of women!
Nothing is more important in life to me than how I think, and what I do to record these thoughts, whether for my own benefit or, indirectly, for the benefit of others.
The thinker cushions his soul with thoughts that flow from his mind like the outer manifestations of feeling.
There is something godly about words, but not heavenly, since the feeling remains within, burning away in the darkness of self from which the light of revealed truth flies on godly wings, or at least appears to do so.
I find it impossible not to believe that there is a direct connection between the so-called Holocaust, or systematic extermination of European Jewry under the Nazis, and the ensuing foundation of the State of Israel. Without the Nazi-instigated mass internment and extermination of Europe's Jews there would not, paradoxically, have been enough Jews in Palestine to fight for and eventually achieve, at the Arabs' expense, an Israeli State. To me, it seems disingenuous to draw no connection between the founding of the State of Israel and the Holocaust that led tens if not hundreds of thousands of Jews to leave Europe for an uncertain future in the Middle East. A case, from a Jewish standpoint, of good out of evil?
Average people are much more likely to try and bring anyone culturally and morally superior down than to try and rise to his level of cultural and moral accomplishment. Equalitarianism may seem to work as a theory (as a manifestation of bourgeois decadence) of equal opportunity irrespective of class or race or gender or whatever, but in practice people resent superiority because they know, in their heart of hearts, that it is beyond them and effectively unattainable by them and simply prefer to drag things down to the lowest-common-denominator in what becomes a kind of plebeian concept of egalitarianism. Hence their self-serving opposition to superior people and the corresponding necessity of such people to defend themselves, by whatever means in their power, from the reactionary instincts of average or even sub-average people, many of whom are, in any case, likely to be women who, in the nature of things, subscribe to a different mindset, hostile to male independence through culture.
That man who writes for the masses, putting commerce above self, is no artist but an enemy of Truth – in short, an artiste.
Living in the same house as a dysfunctional Bangladeshi family is the nearest I come to experience of the term 'hell on earth'. You don't like them, they know one doesn't like them, resentments fester, breeding long-standing animosities. An invidious situation in which ethnic incompatibility is constantly to the forefront of one's mind. One feels constantly under threat, like a sensible kind of animal being driven from its natural or, at any rate, habitual habitat by foreign creatures whose screaming want of sensibility or any kind of self-respecting common sense is apt testimony to a fundamentally more barbarous not to say philistine disposition seemingly incapable of sitting still or remaining quiet for any meaningful period of time. How the hell I ended-up in this situation is still something of a mystery to me!
They have a way, these Bangladeshis or, at any rate, the one who happens to be my landlord, of engineering circumstances, whether with regard to ugly dark-brown heavy doors with closures that cause them to slam or to ill-fitting bathroom and toilet fixtures (sic) or, indeed, to the installation of the overhead floor to their attic refurbishment that creaks mysteriously every time they walk across or stand waveringly upon it, that enables them to maximize cruelty and a kind of race-motivated oppression whose underlying effect is to both humiliate and undermine one, as well, certainly in my case, as to get one out – I have been told to leave on more than one occasion and only for responding somewhat indignantly to the sorts of provocations it were impossible to ignore - and thereby have the place to themselves, or to persons akin to themselves who would not regularly listen to Western – including classical – music, etc.
Over the years I have noted how their encroachments upon this house have expanded and led to a corresponding change in their psychology or attitude towards one, as to white people in general. Now that they are in the majority here the boot, as it were, is on the other foot, and their attitudes are far less deferential or subservient than used to be the case. But is this not a natural outcome, proof, as it were, of a law of nature in motion as the stronger gradually drive out or undermine the weaker, not least in terms of numbers? The notion of racial equality is a convenient smoke-screen for enabling such peoples to first obtain a foothold and then, by degrees, having consolidated and extended it, to begin turning the screw on others not of their race, so that they more or less have it their own way. Facts are facts, and they don't permit of any argument or refutation, whatever the expedient lies and falsehoods of self-serving politicians may say.
That said, my detestation of these people is, frankly, worrying and even sickening, particularly since they are not on a West European level, much less a British or Irish one, but on a level below even the East Europeans who have, in the guise of various Poles, featured here fairly prominently in recent years. One wonders what they are doing here, these Bangladeshis, but then one remembers that the British had an Empire which embraced the totality of what was once India, and that when exploiters and profiteers are no longer able to conduct their affairs overseas they will, as it were, tighten their imperial belts and encourage immigration from their former colonies in order to have the Darwinian benefit of cheap labour and enhanced competition for jobs, houses, rented accommodation, and so on, right on their doorstep, albeit not in such close proximity to themselves as to be directly affected in the manner described on these pages. What began on a mercantile basis must needs continue on such terms, no matter how modified, when your whole ethos centres, commercially, on economic gain, whether imperially or capitalistically.
You can't make an ideal out of something which is not an ideal to begin with! Liberal tolerance, which is often flaunted as an ideal, is in fact the product of bourgeois imperialism and the scramble for riches (economically-fuelled humanism) in foreign lands which led Britain to empire and to the colonial exploitation of vast swathes of the world's territory, whose peoples were rarely if ever humanistic.
The net result, several generations later, is the swamping of British humanism by the descendants of those very peoples whom their ancestors systematically enslaved through conquest and expropriation. Their liberal tolerance has come home with a vengeance, or, more correctly, is now under fire from peoples whose tolerance of things British is minimal, if not virtually non-existent. The 'one nation' rhetoric of ambitious politicians is, frankly, the one thing modern Britain is not and, in a sense, never was, since Ireland, Scotland, and Wales would consider themselves nations in their own right, even if politically joined to England within the United Kingdom (of Great Britain and so-called Northern Ireland). But when you consider the competing and often conflicting ethnicities which have emerged from the British Empire, then even without the influx of foreigners from the former East Bloc countries and elsewhere in both Europe and the world at large, the pretensions to Britain being a nation, never mind 'one nation', are even more farcical. Surely with politicians like these, whether or not directly responsible for the current mess, you can only see things continuing to go from bad to worse, with more vote-cadging rhetoric continuing to fly in the face of reality.
Great philosophy can be written in the most appalling of domestic conditions or circumstances – proof, if anything, that the mind can transcend the corporeal torments of the world.
I have always detested tuxedos (dinner jackets) and bow ties, with their triangular implications reminiscent of the worst, most blatant forms of architectural aediculation. The so-called 'alpha male', or pseudo-male, with alpha-orientated predilections.
Artists writing, composing, painting, etc., through themselves for other artists … simply because the masses wouldn't be interested in what they're doing. Eventually, some of it will enter the mainstream but, to start with, all art, any serious cultural activity that is any good, is unpopular, ignored if not scorned by the female-dominated masses.
The only duty the artist has is to himself, his art, not to society which, being fundamentally female in character, would kill him or it off as a matter of natural course. It is only because fine art rises above society that it occasionally gets noticed.
For the artist, self-censure is a kind of suicide. You censure yourself at the expense of your art or, what amounts to the same, your truth, which may well coincide with the Truth. Taboo subjects are for politicians, not artists, who only have to consider the relevance of what they have to say to their art, and of how well or accurately they are saying it.
Job-worthiness, to use a colloquial term, has always struck me as being signally repulsive, like being recruited and regimented by somebody or something else for purposes that have no bearing on anything else.
The aristocrat, or pseudo-theocrat, defers to the autocrat like truth or, rather, pseudo-truth to beauty, mistaking beauty for truth – something I have always regarded as an Anglican fatality.
In my youth I read a lot more than I thought. These days, I think a lot more than I read.
A precondition of being respected as a writer is to live in a Catholic country. No use living in Britain, where, in consequence of their female-dominated utilitarianism, they expect you to have a day-job as well!
While speeches by bow-tie wearers is perfectly respectable in Britain, writings by open-collared individuals is anything but....
Nothing flatters the bow-tie wearing speakers more than to have their speeches read by men in conventional button-covering ties, the sort of men who are unlikely to think too deeply or critically about what has been spoken but, when push comes to proverbial shove, can almost invariably be depended upon to endorse it, like parliamentarians sucking-up to the monarchy in what seems to me something akin to a Faustian pact.
For most men, women are the solution. For me, they are the problem.
The German word feind, approximating to 'enemy' but really being closer to 'fiend' (a great term to have for an 'enemy'), is far superior, in my opinion, to 'enemy' as a term for delineating those with whom one is at war. No wonder the Germans have killed so many 'enemies' in past wars. For feind is an immensely potent term that puts those with whom one is at war in a light, or perspective, which the rather more clinical term 'enemy' doesn't do. The enemy are, in effect, fiends who can be expected to behave fiendishly, and with whom, in consequence, there can be no compromise, let alone mercy, even if this does occasionally lead to the commission of excesses or even atrocities.
One of the earliest uses of Concentration Camps in Nazi Germany was, quite logically, for political opponents – communists, socialists, anarchists, liberals, etc. - whom the Nazis had fought against in coming to power and were determined, once in power, to ensure that those kinds of 'us or them' situations which had bedevilled the Weimar Republic didn't re-occur or persist at their expense. Hence, too, the clinging on to power even when the war appeared to be lost or, in being continued, would lead to increased bloodshed. No Nazi is going to let communists, socialists, anarchists, etc., back into the political arena, never mind into power. The struggle with Soviet Communism was an ongoing phenomenon, even ideological necessity, that could only be halted, as was the case, through total defeat, albeit the defeat, when it finally came, was by no means solely attributable to the Soviet Union.
Politicians may set out to solve the world's problems, but to the metaphysically-inclined religious thinker the world itself is a problem. In fact, the world is if not exactly a bitch, then certainly a phenomenon ruled and/or governed by one.
The contemporary novel, which I would prefer to hold at arm's length, is cursed with the drama-like scourge of descriptive minimalism, whereby dialogue is virtually all-pervasive and one wonders why the author didn't just write a frigging play instead!
Writing inspired by the soul rises above mere writing to a level not far short of godliness.
Galway City now looks more like a British than an Irish city, with Boots, Debenhams, Marks & Spencer, HMV, the Body Shop, New River, Ulster Bank, Tesco, Currys, Londis, Next, Top Shop, Argos, McDonalds, etc., etc. Other than for the sea, there would be scant reason to leave London.
'Free speech' is one of those, at best, dubious terms that tend, for me, to connote with some whisky-befuddled sporter of a bow tie delivering an after-dinner speech to fellow ruling-class types. In short, a manifestation of noumenal objectivity that is not so much free thought 'coming out' as an entrenched opposition to such thought which ensures, by its very existence, that only the rantings of 'free speech' are granted any credence as a vehicle for the transmission of information by and largely for those who wield power and would be fearful of its negation through soulful contentment.
The 'godless' age in which we apparently live is necessarily one partial to Devil the Mother, and thus to predatory instincts of a female character that inevitably lead to war and the martial equivalent of sex, from which love, strutting her beautiful stuff, falls as a matter of predatory course, thereby perpetuating the world.
Militarism also starts out in beautiful squares or stiffly-marching regiments prior to falling into the tumultuous sex of war and fertilizing the ground with its blood, pride and strength seeping out of every wound with nothing but weakness and humiliation left – at least to the vanquished and, paradoxically, to many of the victorious too!
Yes, we may well still be living in a 'godless' age, the Christian god having died, as Nietzsche reminded us (somewhat unnecessarily in view of the fact that the Christian god had always been dead, if not necessarily the worship of him), but there was never enough godliness or, more correctly, heavenliness in the Western past, nothing to compare with the 'outer face' of Heaven that the smiling Buddha could be said to represent, and all because the original 'God' in back of Christ was really Devil the Mother, a scientific, or cosmic, 'bovaryization' that has 'come out' in more naked terms in our own age, as, for that matter, has Woman the Mother, whom some would have regarded, in the past, as the 'Mother of God' or, rather, of the 'God that is dead', the Christian god that limply hung upon the Cross even before Nietzsche proclaimed his religious death for our own time and we were left with nothing but … the dogs of war.
Although born in Galway of an Irish father, I have to say that, growing up in Aldershot, the birthplace of my mother, from approximately the age of two-and-a-half to when I was despatched to a children's home at ten, Aldershot is effectively my home town. After all, that is where I began to understand and to interact with the world.
Through a coincidence of birth I carry an Irish passport. But I guess, growing up in Britain, I would be amongst the least Irish of Irish-born citizens. As someone who is virtually English, with English schooling and all the rest of it, it's not as though I take any pride in being Irish. On the contrary, periodic visits to Ireland have taught me that it can be a wet, windy, overcast, inhospitable, expensive place, with little to inspire one or make one feel particularly glad to be Irish.
We live in a post-atomic age, dependent, to a large extent, on nuclear power; for once the atom has been split you can't unsplit it again. All these wind farms and solar-heating panels, useful as they may be up to a point, are no alternative to nuclear energy, but are rather symptomatic of a kind of back-to-nature ethos that flies in the face of the largely post-atomic world we happen to inhabit in the twenty-first century. Nuclear energy will not go away, nor should it, since other energy sources are either depleted or redundant or, in the case of trendy natural alternatives, of limited utility. It is not for a post-atomic age to be overly dependent on Nature; it must simply forge ahead on its own artificially independent basis, thereby delivering us from dependence on natural resources, we who, in any case, are increasingly artificial in our urban lifestyles.
The saint and neutralized dragon paradigm, which I equate with metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry, ethereal male and pseudo-female gender positions, is a manifestation of post-atomic (post-worldly) criteria in an age headed towards 'Kingdom Come', that is to say, towards otherworldly/pseudo-netherworldly structures biased towards male liberation from female dominion, without which one has only world perpetuation and its latter-day correlation of population increase as the gender rule of atomic relativity.
'Man overcoming', to use a Nietzschean phrase, is equivalent to 'world overcoming', and thus to the establishment of otherworldly/pseudo-netherworldly criteria under messianic auspices. It has nothing to do with the perpetuation of atomic criteria.
Most internet sites, only concerned with making money, are sheer crap, especially those one sees all the time on traffic exchanges. A boring predictability of commerce-oriented banality!
I always feel a chill when the central heating comes on. The hotter the radiator, the colder I feel.
'O for the wings of a dove' by Felix Mendelssohn – such divine music, such uprightness and moral conviction, such righteousness and sublime sense of harmony. Something almost Haydnesque about this great man, the saviour, in many respects, of mid-nineteenth century German music, whose own music, certainly in this instance, still sounds fresh and almost … contemporary or, at any rate, modern in the sense that, say, someone like Rick Wakeman would understand, to distinguish it from the decadence of petty-bourgeois classicism, so to speak, and the equalitarian degeneration of so-called classical or serious music towards a point where even jazz appears comparatively discriminating if not musical, albeit from a standpoint less strictly Western than inceptively global in its origin or scope.
The body has a mind of its own, namely the blood, which we underestimate at our peril.
Conversely, the mind has a body of its own, namely the brain, which it would be most unwise to underestimate.
One of the most influential books of my youth, strangely, was Jim Morrison's 'The Lords and the New Creatures', a collection of poems and aphoristic writings which I bought in Camden Town one lunchtime whilst working in the West End. I was subsequently shocked to find that some pages only had a one-line entry (which my mother found amusing when I showed the book to her), be it poems or aphorism or whatever. Doubtless Morrison's concise style was partly inspired by Nietzsche, whom he admired, and I incline to the belief that much of my own work wouldn't have become as aphoristic had it not been for their influence on my intellectual development as a writer.
In a society dominated by the speaker, the thinker tends to be 'beyond the pale' and therefore taboo. Even the writer must be speaker (dialogue) and reader (description) friendly.
Michael Schenker – that most electrifyingly inventive of rock guitarists. Nobody else even comes close, although Edgar Froese might disagree, as, for that matter, might Bernhard Beibl. In fact, all Tangerine Dream guitarists have been special in one way or another.
The only British guitarist I can think of to rival Schenker in terms of electrifying fecundity is Richie Blackmore, whose work with Deep Purple was truly in a class of its own.
Rediscovered my old appetite for Hertford Town today (9th November), where I had lunch or, rather, breakfast in Barney's Grill, I think it was. Nice food! Sad that the old library has closed. I occasionally visited it in the past. Now there's a new one in Dolphin's Yard off Maidenhead Street, where I once bought a black leather belt – I still use it – in Edinburgh Woollen Mills (still there!), of all places.
Fire on the mountains, wind on the hills. Alpha and omega, Devil and God or, more correctly, Heaven. Kind of like autocrat and theocrat, monarch and pope, which is to say, metachemistry and metaphysics.
Life for a male who has any intelligence is a long lesson in disillusionment which, if you can survive into old age, will leave you with nothing but the truth and, hence, a female-rejecting disposition that is free of beauty and everything that conduced towards one's former enslavement, including, no least, the world itself. Only that man who is thoroughly disillusioned with a life ruled by the Beautiful can enter the Heaven of God.
He, on the other hand, who is not disillusioned is deluded by the mistaken belief that beauty will save him when, in point of fact, all it will do is … use and drain him for purposes that have nothing to do with mere aesthetics.
Today, the 11th November, is of course Remembrance Sunday, the date commemorating the 1918 Armistice that led to the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front of the Great War, and, whilst respecting Britain's right to honour its glorious dead, I find myself thinking about those brave Germans who died during the course of two World Wars – in the first one defending the honour of Austria in relation to the assassination of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian (Catholic) throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, by a Bosnia Serb terrorist, and in the second one righting the injustices of Versailles and fighting against Soviet Communism and the disproportionate influence and power of European Jewry in respect, it was alleged, to both communism and capitalism. It is to be hoped they did not die in vain.
The lyrics in rock songs, particularly when of a romantic cast, can be poisoned when one lives in close proximity to female neighbours whom one detests but feels to be implicated in the scope of the lyrics, if only because they could easily overhear them in the next room or the rooms above or below, as the case may be. However, living in a bedsitter in north London I am – and have always been – so far from any kind of romantic or sentimental feelings towards women that rock lyrics often annoy or embarrass me, in any case, for their utter irrelevance to my life.
The solution to that problem, if you are going to continue listening to music, is to use headphones and thus, quite apart from the advantage of being on the male side of the gender fence rather than as some kind of speakers-using bitch, be in a position to keep the music, no matter how lyrically irrelevant, to oneself.
If the body is the objectification (Schopenhauer) of will, and the body's mind, the blood, the objectification of spirit, then it seems not improbable to me that the mind is the subjectification of soul, and the mind's body, the brain, the subjectification of ego, being a factor less of feelings than of intellect, which would contrast with the sensations of bodily will and the emotions of spirit.
Just as flesh and blood overlap in the body, as will and spirit, those quintessentially female attributes, so do brain and mind overlap in the psyche, as ego and soul, those quintessentially male attributes. But fundamental to the existence of brain and mind in the psyche are the flesh and blood of the body, without which the former would naturally be unable to exist. Nor could the brain, and hence mind, exist without the oxygen carried through it by the blood being pumped around the body by the hard-pressed heart, that seat not of the soul, as superficial persons think, but of the spirit. For the feelings of the soul have to be differentiated from the emotions of the spirit as one would distinguish the central nervous system and, indeed, nerves in general from the blood, and whilst emotions, associated with the body, are objective, feelings are subjective on account of their association with the mind, whose nervous disposition borders the brain.
Therefore if the body's mind regressively transcends the body, as spirit the will, or glory the power, so it can be said that the mind progressively transcends the mind's body, as soul the ego, or contentment the form.
It is for this reason that mankind is contradictory, both in terms of gender and class, not to mention ethnicity and occupation. Although they work together and are dependent on each other, body and mind are opposites, like will and soul, power and contentment, absolute alpha and omega, and the body's mind and the mind's body are also opposites, like spirit and ego, glory and form, relative alpha and omega, which happen, in their opposite ways, to be more worldly than either netherworldly (like the body) or otherworldly (like the mind), at least when it is being true to itself and isn't corrupted by submission to bodily rule, as to a wilful despot of autocratic disposition.
Unfortunately, what applies to the mind, the soul, does not apply to the mind's body, the ego, since the fatality of the latter is towards an axial polarity with the body, the flesh, that contrasts, on state-hegemonic terms, with the fatality of the body's mind, the spirit, to establish such a polarity with the mind in what can only be a church-hegemonic axial orientation whose hegemonic positions correspond to spirit and soul, not, like its axial rival and opponent, to will and ego.
Torn between this further contradiction mankind enters into an uneasy equilibrium between opposing kinds of gender polarity that remain incompatible with each other as a matter of axial course. Such is how things can only remain until Judgement (as defined by me in relation to a majority mandate for religious sovereignty) and the establishment, under messianic auspices, of 'Kingdom Come', that is to say, to the ending not only of the world of atomic values, but of axial relativity in relation to that world.
If the heart is the 'seat' of the spirit, the body's mind, then it seems not unreasonable to contend that the genitalia (with particular reference to the female) are the 'seat' of the will and, hence, of the body. Conversely, if the brain is the 'seat' of the ego, the mind's body, then we may well believe that the spinal cord is the 'seat' of the soul and, hence, of the mind.
Now since antitheses are incommensurate, it follows that anybody who is into the ego, the mind's body, will be relatively indisposed to the spirit, the body's mind, and vice versa, whilst anyone who is into the soul, the mind, will be absolutely indisposed to the will, the body, and vice versa.
But it is interesting to note that anybody who is into the brain, the mind's body, will be relatively indisposed to anyone into the blood, the body's mind, whilst anyone who is into the soul, the mind, will be absolutely indisposed to anybody into the flesh, the body, and will scorn the flesh accordingly. The state-hegemonic axis is a polarity, in its hegemonic elements, between noumenal and phenomenal, ethereal and corporeal types of 'anybody' deriving from the polarity of body with mind's body, will with ego, whereas the church-hegemonic axis can only be a polarity, in respect of its hegemonic elements, between phenomenal and noumenal, corporeal and ethereal types of 'anyone' deriving from the polarity of body's mind with mind, spirit with soul.
This, in literary terms (as discussed above), would be a polarity not between speakers and readers, as on the state-hegemonic axis, but between writers and thinkers, and it would of course accord with church-hegemonic axial criteria as stretching from the southwest to the northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass.
All of this, it seems, can only be discovered through philosophy, which is the utilization of logic to a credibly conclusive end such that constitutes a mode of enlightenment.
I have often, in the past, described myself as an artist-philosopher or even as a poetic philosopher which, with my current approach to philosophical findings or teachings, could be described as a writerly thinker, that is, a thinker who writes as opposed, like a thoughtful writer, to a writer who thinks, whom one could alternatively describe as a philosophical poet or even, to reverse my starting-point, a philosopher-artist, like, say, Aldous Huxley, Hermann Hesse, or even Henry Miller.
Thus I pertain more to metaphysics and/or pseudo-metachemistry than to chemistry and/or pseudo-physics, the upper and lower poles, duly gender subdivisible, of the chuch-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis.
The Christian Mass, focusing on the 'body' and 'blood' of Christ, as upon the bread and the wine of the Last Supper, would suggest a concession to will and spirit, power and glory, at the expense of ego and soul, form and contentment, which would be less 'body' and 'blood', or body and body's mind, than mind's body, i.e. brain, and mind, the latter of which, beyond the Christian pale, would have more relevance to the central nervous system or spinal cord.
Therefore the Mass would appear to err on the side of female objectivity at the expense of male subjectivity, the Lord's Prayer itself referencing power and glory as opposed to form and contentment, their male counterparts.
One can see why Puritans prefer to reject the Mass, whether Anglican (with an emphasis, one might suppose, on 'body', and hence will, power, beauty, etc.) or Catholic (with an emphasis, one would think, on 'blood' and, hence, spirit, glory, pride, etc.), since neither 'body' nor 'blood' would be relevant to a religious position more affiliated to the brain and, hence, ego, form, knowledge, etc., in relation, most especially, to the New Testament, all of which would suggest a disposition favouring the mind's body, as it were, which, though axially polar to the body, as to Anglicanism, is less objective, whether noumenally or phenomenally, than subjective, if on terms which, being phenomenal, fall short of the mind and its orientation towards noumenal subjectivity, the subjectivity, one might say, of thinking (praying) rather than of reading (bible studying) that is closer to the soul of true religion in metaphysical Being.
But the so-called 'body of Christ', the Eucharist, is not – and cannot be – identifiable with the mind's body, the brain, since there is nothing more antithetical to spirit, the nature of the blood, than ego, the nature or, more correctly, nurture of the brain, the former being chemically feminine and the latter physically masculine, and therefore it must follow that the Eucharist and celebration thereof is fundamentally a metachemical and chemical ritual that, being objective, connotes with power and glory, will and spirit, as something contrary to both physical and metaphysical, Christian and, as it were, Superchristian (Social Theocratic?) positions favouring either the ego or the soul, form or contentment, as germane to the 'spirit' of true religion.
Educated women, whilst they may know how to be like men, must necessarily unlearn, or forget, how to act like women, since liberation from female norms through education is incompatible with the gender nature of woman.
But this equalitarian manifestation of bourgeois decadence has to co-exist with – and has even been eclipsed by – what could be termed the proletarian barbarity of feminism, especially when that feminism has less to do with equal rights in relation to education, social standing, professional and/or vocational opportunity, etc., than with liberation from anything, including traditional male hegemonic (chauvinistic) criteria, that would keep women 'bottled up', 'boxed in', and generally confined to a subordinate, male-deferring status incompatible with sexual freedom and the right to expression of precisely the femininity that their educated counterparts are busily suppressing in their thirst for gender equality.
This liberated female is more likely to 'burn her bra' and 'strut her stuff' than strive, in decadent bourgeois fashion, to equal if not outdo men in intellectual accomplishments. If anything, such educated females are apt to frown upon the sexual libertarianism of those females whose lifestyles, far from the pursuit of knowledge, revolve around the expression of beauty and the projection of love in the interests, by contrast, of a most inequalitarian hegemony over their male counterparts.
My writings have survived several changes of address since when I first began back at 'Bankside' in Merstham, Surrey, where I wrote poems (some of which were published via the so-called 'vanity press' in poetry anthologies to be found even in so reputable a bookshop as Foyles in London's West End) before moving, in 1974, up to the Stroud Green Road in Finsbury Park where, at my mother's address, I continued to write poetry. When, later that year, I moved to Elm Grove in Crouch End I added a journal (since lost or destroyed) to my poetic endeavours, but by the spring of 1976 I had moved over the hill to Western Park where, after a few months, I began to write my first novel ('Michael Savage'). When, in the autumn of 1979, I moved (more accurately was moved by the landlord) across Crouch End to Elder Avenue, I had already written several titles, philosophical as well as fictional, and I continued for the next twelve years to deepen my approach both to literature and to philosophy, so much so that by the time I moved just up the road to Hornsey in 1991 I was almost exclusively committed to writings of a philosophical order – a process which has continued ever since with, I think, greater success in respect of the achievement of metaphysical truth as the true goal of philosophy.
So from poetry in Merstham to philosophy in Hornsey via literature with either a poetic or a philosophic bias coming in-between in both Finsbury Park and Crouch End. That is the history, to-date, of my writing career or, rather, vocation, which has remained independent of conventional publishing (hardback and/or paperback) and thus of a world I despise for its axial irrelevance. For it would have stymied if not precluded me from writing as I did and, for that matter, continue to do in relation to a radical church-hegemonic axial disposition, the fruit, I believe, of my Irish Catholic heritage.
Me and him – the person I was born as and the person – not necessarily persona – I vocationally elected to become over the course of several years, who is not necessarily the person I present to the world, even though the vocational person often takes priority over the natural person, the person I am (height, weight, skin colour, build, accent, eye colour, hair colour, etc.), who nonetheless persists in exerting an unmistakable influence – as he should – upon the life I lead, both as a person and as a writer/thinker or, as I prefer to put it, philosopher – perhaps the foremost thinker of the age.
One thing is for sure: the closer the relationship between the natural person and the vocational person (which some would identify with the persona), the more integrated and, in a sense, interdependent they are, the happier and, as it were, more fortunate one is, since at the end of the day the natural person has to be able to get on with the artificial person, the vocational person, or else there will be trouble – big trouble!
Anyone who reads this journal will discover that the vocational person that overlaps the natural person is if not exactly one and the same as him, at least close enough to him as to be a reliable reflection of how the person actually thinks and feels, not someone hiding behind a mask (or persona) that is so far removed from the person as to be at variance with him in some kind of fanciful or dramatic falsehood likely to deceive the reader as to the person's true nature or identity.
Such a situation I would consider not only intolerable but, frankly, futile and a waste of time, akin to a form of prostitution. With me, the journey of the one may transmute into the journal of the other, me into him, but I can confidently say that they are really one and the same person who is both man and philosopher, and philosopher precisely because he knows the importance, the experience and expectation, of being 'true to self'.
For the self is corrupted every time you depart from it in such fashion as to bear false witness to it. When you are being 'true to self', then what is projected, halo-like, is a reflection of the self which, as the innermost aspect of the person, is commensurate with Heaven or, more precisely, with Heaven the Holy Soul. Therefore any reflection of this self is commensurate with godliness, be it philosophical or musical or, in this case, a journal reflecting the experiences of the journeyer.
Despite Christ's dying to the flesh on the Cross, the flesh is both strutted and worshipped, these days, as never before, and one feels, sadly, that the lesson of Christianity has not been learnt or was wasted on the will-flaunting and flesh-worshipping generality of persons. Even Schopenhauer, that much maligned but great philosopher, knew that to achieve salvation, or its equivalence, you would have to deny the will. What he didn't say was that, despite appearances to the contrary, the principal embodiments of free will and, as a corporeal corollary, free spirit are females, and that to gain release from the twin holds of will and spirit upon life you have to deny females, else have soul and ego co-opted to and corrupted by their objective sway.
Now for the salvation (of males) it takes more than ego, ever axially beholden to the will and thus to a kind of Faustian pact with the Devil, that is, Devil the Mother. It takes soul and, hence, truth to self to ensure that the will is defeated and, ultimately, neutralized, pseudo-females taking a subordinate place, a plane down at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, as pseudo-metachemistry under metaphysics, pseudo-will (pseudo-bound will) under soul, pseudo-space under time, pseudo-infinity under eternity, like the proverbial (neutralized) dragon under the saintly heel, he who, corresponding to the 'lamb of god(liness)', alone inhabits Heaven as the One who is 'God in Heaven', truth in joy, forever hegemonically triumphant over the (neutralized) lion and/or wolf whose pseudo-bound will corresponds to pseudo-Devil the Mother, the pseudo-ugliness in which dwells the pseudo-hate of pseudo-Hell the Unclear Spirit, in counter-damned, counter-cursed subordination to the blessed Saved. Amen!
A caretaker is a person who 'takes care' of whatever needs to be 'taken care' of in places like schools, colleges, hostels, hospitals, etc. In other words, an important, not to say versatile, kind of person.
The captain wore a baseball cap.
The Titanic was a Titan-like ship that had the gross misfortune to sink on its maiden voyage from having struck an iceberg.
There could be no ecology, conservationism, or wildlife protection in 'Kingdom Come'. On the contrary, it would be a moral necessity to have wild animals – lions, tigers, crocodiles, snakes, elephants, etc. - put down by special squads of animal hunters. Thus the savagery of wild animals, beasts of prey, etc., would be consigned to the rubbish bin of alpha-orientated and/or alpha-stemming history. For if, in going elsewhere in a different guise, we leave this planet to the animals, it will revert to savagery and the predatory barbarity of the jungle, which would not be the kind of legacy to leave behind, assuming – which is doubtful – we were ever destined to entirely depart from the Earth.
Music is, or can be, easy to listen to on the radio, where talk programmes would bore or even exasperate one. Unlike them, music doesn't have any opinion. It just is.
To have abandoned the flesh only for the blood, the will for the spirit, may well constitute a change of axis and, in a sense, class, as from the upper-class northeast point of the state-hegemonic axis to the lower-class southwest point of the church-hegemonic one, but it would hardly be constitutive of salvation for males (as pseudo-males) whose pseudo-physical deference to the spirit (of chemical females) precluded them from being other than pseudo-egotistical 'sons-of-bitches' – a not untypical mass Catholic situation.
Clifden is a neat little town with an air of urbane civility and even superficial culture, but despite its minor art galleries and occasional bookshop or video store, it is really too small to be particularly interesting, and so one quickly tires of it, making haste, having traversed the main streets a few times, to return to Galway City.
The Clifden Arts Festival, held during the last two weeks of September, is a worthy but fundamentally provincial and even philistine affair likely to bog down in poetry and folk music when not overly deferential to some kind of drama, more usually theatrical. More film and less theatre, please; more rock and less folk, please; more … but no, Clifden is, after all, a provincial town that endeavours to belie its most westerly location, on exposed headlands the far side of the Connemara mountains and lakes, with pretensions to culture. That, at least, is admirable!
Athenry, by contrast, is a town (even smaller than Clifden) without any artistic pretensions, but kind of stuck, if not marooned, in an historical past stretching all the way back to Norman times. It is as if the substantial remnants of a once-proud and mighty castle, bastion of English power, has stultified growth in the town and made it overly dependent on cattle-, I mean, castle-oriented tourism, to the detriment of what is truly modern. Athenry is not a nice place to be in the rain, and even on a hot summer's day – precious few as they may be in the West of Ireland - the 'green fields' are more apt to deliver the acrid stench of farm animal dung than to entice anybody to dance and cavort amongst the buttercups. I had a strong sense of olfactory oppression the last time I was there, back in the late-summer of 2008, and was only too relieved to catch a train back to Galway City and the airy delights of Eyre Square.
These days Eyre Square is less airily delightful, even with pretty flower gardens and relatively close proximity to the sea, but that is because it has been chopped-up into several contrasting sections bisected by wide gravel paths and no longer presents a unified face to the noisy and smelly traffic whose pollution streams around it on three sides, the only side free of traffic congestion, including buses, having pedestrianised access to the stylish but recession-hit shopping centre of the same name.
Barna in the pouring rain on a Sunday morning in September (I write retrospectively) is no joke, but was for me something of a major disappointment that offers little or no shelter or entertainment (unless a supermarket is your idea of either) but, rather, confirms a kind of Marian inevitability about the general state-of-affairs in the West of Ireland, whereby the world is indeed a 'veil of tears' shot through, however, with a vicious wind (kind of like Irish humour) that blows right through one, leaving one shivering with cold. I tramped nervously back to Salthill, the popular seaside suburb of Galway City, angry at myself not so much for having got a gratuitous soaking as for having lost my sunglasses (not that they would have been needed) somewhere along the way or even in Barna itself, where they must have fallen out of my jacket pocket.
Therefore Barna, for me, will remain the place where I lost my black plastic sunglasses on a rainy day (what day in Ireland isn't?) and cursed my luck for its having been so doubly rotten. One thing I was cured of, however, was a desire to live in an out-of-the-way place like that. So I guess the visit wasn't entirely in vain!
The gulf that exists between the genders is one that you cross, as a male, at your own peril, because what exists on the other side is not only antithetically different, but fundamentally hostile to encroachments from beyond. 'Mother Nature' both creates and destroys, like certain 'gods' which barbarous peoples still worship. But what most men don't seem to realize is that she destroys in order to create, and in the case of adult males it is their destruction as males which makes the creation of new life possible. Yet such life will be a whole lot closer to the adult female, during childhood, than to her male counterpart, further isolating him from self and thus effectively securing his downfall.
Galway's Salthill had acquired a new fish & chip shop or, rather, café since last I was there in 2010, and what a pleasure it turned out to be eating there, served by what looked like a guy of Arabic extraction. Even Eglinton Street, in the heart of the city, had acquired a flash new café/restaurant selling, amongst other things, doner and shish kebabs, and I gladly tucked-in to the former under the watchful eye of Arabic-looking guys whose ceiling sported colourful Islamic stars that appeared to hover above one in their absolute splendour. Clearly, Galway was becoming ever more cosmopolitan, like any other comparable city in Ireland, and the results, whilst sometimes puzzling, were not altogether displeasing to behold.
I was glad for a chance to have witnessed, at first-hand, this further evidence of global encroachment, no matter how morally or socially regressive, at the expense of seemingly outmoded Western or nationalist traditions.
The declining sun peeled away the last thin layer of sky to reveal the vast star-studded space of night, which sparkled in the flickering rain like so many jewels of what some would have regarded as majestic splendour but which I, turning away from the window in disgust, resolutely drew the curtains upon, as upon the fires of hell!
When so-called adults are not adult enough, or sufficiently mature, to chastise their children, the only result is that the children, with nothing to fear from their parents, proceed to behave in any manner they fancy, no matter how boorishly, disruptively, nosily, violently, or what have you. The children become, in a sense, a law unto themselves over whom the parents have little or no control – a not untypical outcome of our time, a time that, having gone to the barbarous dogs of regressive globalization, allows children to get away with virtually anything in what is an overly permissive climate in which the parents themselves are often too socially immature to wish to behave more responsibly as parents and instil respect for adults into their children through whatever form or degree of chastisement, including physical correction, is deemed suitable to the occasion.
A bourgeois civilization that sank into equalitarian decadence, including, besides women, the principle of treating children equally, as if they were adults or even especially deserving of a hands-off-attitude to parenting, is now being eclipsed and outdone by a barbarously proletarian stage of devolved globalization in which kids – I don't feel the term 'children' would be entirely appropriate here – are increasingly getting the better of adults because the so-called adults refuse to act like adults and take responsibility for the behaviour of their offspring, allowing if not actively encouraging them to behave in a blatantly aggressive manner that mirrors their own thirst for aggressive and, especially in the cases of peoples of non-European origin, broadly anti-Western, if not anti-bourgeois and counter-imperial, sentiments, in the false hope, no doubt, that the next generation, when it 'comes of age', will be in a better position to brutally overthrow the system than themselves.
I fear it takes a lot more than brawn and physical aggression to overthrow a system as old and much-tested as the state-hegemonic one that exists in and typifies Britain, much less replace it with anything better, and the current generation of anarchically-reared youngsters are going to be in for a rude awakening if they persist in their thoughtless and arrogantly mindless ways.
We speak rather glibly of the English Civil War of the seventeenth century, quite as though that was the first and only civil war that England had experienced. The fact is it wasn't. The so-called War of the Roses, involving the Houses of Lancaster and York, was no less of a civil war on its own fifteenth-century terms than was that in which Oliver Cromwell figured so prominently, with the battle lines drawn between his 'roundheads', or parliamentarians of the 'new model army', and the royalist 'cavaliers', who were eventually defeated.
But the earlier civil war, in which the House of York eventually lost to the House of Lancaster, was in some respects bloodier than its more widespread counterpart a couple of centuries later.
Since then, thank God, there hasn't been another civil war in England, though that doesn't mean to say there couldn't be one.
When I sit down to work or write at my desk, particularly when using the Internet, I don't just sit down and work, as presumably most persons who identify with writing would. On the contrary, I have to constantly struggle against Bangladeshi-inspired neighbour opposition, whether in the face of tapping noises upstairs that appear to mimic or act as a retort to my own computer use or, alternatively, in relation to doors being regularly opened and slammed by persons going in and out of rooms too frequently for either my or their own good, or even by persons – more usually a female – shouting up and down stairs to someone irrespective of the fact that other people, including rent-paying tenants, also live in the house, or a kind of retarded loud-mouthed autistic kid stomping about all over the house, above as well as below my room and on the landing of my own floor (first), and so on, ad nauseam.
One of the oddest occurrences is a kind of thumping retort to occasions of my thinking, as though the person or persons concerned were somehow allergic to thought and, not given to thinking themselves, sought to censure and, if possible, inhibit if not terminate any predilection of mine towards occasional thought by reacting in such a seemingly Pavlovian manner – an occurrence I have always been both alarmed and, frankly, scandalized by, since it seems to me one has a perfect right to think one's thoughts in the relative privacy of one's room without anyone elsewhere either being aware (after a fashion) of it or, in that event, feeling obliged to censure by retorting to it in the manner described. That females will do this, from time to time, I have come, through bitter experience, to realize; but in this house it tends to be others as well, nominal males whose chief defining characteristic is that they are of Bangladeshi origin and seemingly allergic, as it were, to thought, or to me as a particular individual of Western origin who thinks with a mindset and possibly even brain structure different to theirs.
This is yet another example of what it means to be living in circumstances afflicted with ethnic incompatibility in which one's blood, as a person of Irish Catholic descent, is confronted by alien racial opposition by persons of Moslem ethnicity, and one cannot, in consequence, take anything for granted, least of all living one's own life and thinking one's own thoughts which, god knows how, I persist in doing willy-nilly, if only because a solitary man of some intelligence can do little else. No thanks, however, to the neighbours, whose ethnic opposition to me is incontrovertibly evident and never a day goes by but one is grossly conflicted by incompatible criteria, standards of behaviour, customs, etc. This multiculturalism, as it is euphemistically called by its supporters, really sucks, being an instance of regressive globalization that is never so unpleasant than when it directly impinges upon one and brings one up short, as it were, in a startling realization that one is living with peoples of an alien disposition who don't or can't take one for granted.
Two male Bangladeshis – one a creep and the other asleep. Another, a door-slamming female with very large hands who lies through her teeth with no shame, and the fourth, a loud-mouthed kid who stamps around all over the place while spurting some idiosyncratic babble that seems to me a kind of infantile parody of Moslem religion or prayer or some audible study and recitation of scripture. I find nothing to admire or like here.
I've heard it said: Don't let the bastards wear you down. But in my experience it is the bitches who are most guilty of doing that!
The hijacking and corruption of religion by women – a sad but inevitable fact, particularly in the West.
Come Christmas they'll be worshipping the Nativity – ugh! How conventionally familial and somehow indicative of female dominion!
Who or what is Joseph, apart from being a shepherd? Surely not a divine cuckold who stands by while Mary is miraculously impregnated via the Holy Ghost with God's seed, and then continues to play father without any justification for doing so? Mystical nonsense aside, it seems to me that Joseph is Mary's husband and thus, in effect, the father of Jesus. Otherwise why stick around?
But I guess this 'father' is vis-a-vis the Virgin Mary, who would have started out metachemically before descending, in a kind of regressive transcendence (of beauty) to chemistry, where she would correspond to the mother of Jesus. So Joseph would presumably have started out pseudo-metaphysically before descending, along with his wife, to some kind of pseudo-physical position a plane down from chemistry at the southwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, the kind of position also occupied, though obviously in a different way, by the baby Jesus.
But what, in religious terms, is pseudo-metaphysics under metachemistry? Apart from being germane to the northwest point of the aforementioned compass at the head of what eventually becomes a state-hegemonic axis, it is analogous, I believe, to Satan under Jehovah in the Cosmos (a stellar/solar type of differential), not to mention David under Saul in Nature (a blossom/fruit type of differential on, for instance, orange trees); that is to say, to an eyes/ears type of parallel in mankind, the broadly humanistic precursor of the contemporary camera over microphone type of differential
that would accord, if superficially so, with a cyborgistic stage of evolution in which the American differential between First Lady and President would not, I believe, be entirely irrelevant, still less one between Republican and Democratic politics (the former not untypically starry and looking for 'reds under the bed', so to speak – the 'bed' presumably according with a Republican disposition).
Be that as it may, this Joseph may not have been as much of a saint as Christian convention likes to portray him, since germane, in my estimation, to a 'fall-guy' category that is always bested by the First Mover a plane up, in metachemical free will, at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass who, in absolute contrast, tends to play or be identified with God.
Now isn't that convenient for all those 'sons-of-bitches' who end-up being adjuncts to a female will, not to mention spirit, that persists in ruling over them virtually their whole lives long?
A people so backward as to be not just unintellectual but anti-intellectual and determined, by whatever form of brutality comes most natural, to stamp it out and effectively put an end to civilization or, rather, to what is best in civilization – namely the ability to think for oneself and to remain culturally aloof from a world that worships barbarism from a philistine standpoint.
Intellectual independence, privacy, reflection, solitude, thought, and other ingredients of culture are not part of the make-up of backward peoples still bogged down in some form of communal existence that, like the extended family, is overly dominated by females, with or without, though usually with, the inevitability of arranged marriages.
Only trouble comes from persons who use reference books, scripture, critiques, and other seemingly authoritative texts as a substitute for free thought. Sooner or later they will defer to metachemistry, that is, to Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father, as though in a Faustian pact with all that is most contrary to Truth.
Ideas that come to one 'on the wing' have more in common with the mind than with the brain and are usually closer to the soul in consequence.
The metaphysician, who is a thinker, will normally have more ideas than the physical reader, the chemical writer, and the metachemical speaker. This is because ideas, being thoughts infused with meaning, are germane to the sphere of Being, not to the competing spheres of taking, giving, and doing or, rather, Doing (with a capital 'D'), granted its noumenal (ethereal) status above giving and antithetical to Being.
Ideas, which pertain to the realm of thought, are ever more regressively dissipated by the realms of reading, writing, and speaking. In fact, speakers, who are antithetical to thinkers, often say things that would strike a thinker as meaningless, or without logical validation as ideas. One might suppose that the more inebriated the after-dinner speaker, the less meaningful will his speech be, since whenever the will intrudes into thought you get – speech. And a will compromised by alcohol can only result in speech that is least meaningful and correspondingly most meaningless – in short, a typical after-dinner speech.
Class and race vis-a-vis occupation and ethnicity are rather akin to will and spirit vis-a-vis ego and soul, or power and glory vis-a-vis form and contentment, or space and volume vis-a-vis mass and time, or metachemistry and chemistry (on the female side of the gender divide) vis-a-vis physics and metaphysics (on the male side of the gender divide). In other words, the body and the body's mind, flesh and blood, vis-a-vis the mind and the mind's body, the spinal cord of the central nervous system and the brain.
Whilst the state-hegemonic axis is ruled, autocratically, by class, the church-hegemonic axis is led, theocratically, by ethnicity, the gender polarity to which is race, which is axially antithetical to the occupational polarity to class on the state-hegemonic axis.
In Ireland, the Roman Catholic/GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) axial tradition has tended to deny class and occupation (profession) in the interests of race and ethnicity, whereas in Britain the Protestant axial tendency has been to deny race and ethnicity in the interests of class and occupation, a situation more conducive to a rugby/football polarity than to a Gaelic/hurling one, as in Catholic Ireland where, traditionally, class and the occupational exploitation that goes with it have tended to be identified with British imperialism.
Communism's obsession with class, albeit on largely anti-bourgeois and pro-proletarian terms, was always going to be unattractive to an ideology like National Socialism in Germany, rooted in race and unilaterally aspiring towards an Aryan ethnicity centred in the Germans that left little or no place for occupation … in the sense of a civil administration of capitalist free enterprise. In Nazism we find a Germanic racial integrationism inimical to communism's obsession with class and occupation which, though less specifically worker-oriented, also finds an echo in Britain and America, the Soviet Union's main allies in World War Two.
The aims of National Socialism were fundamentally twofold: to eliminate 'Bolshevism' and gain 'lebensraum' for the 'master race' in the conquered East, and to save ethnic Germans from the threat of atheistic Communism within the framework of the Greater German Reich itself, so that, both externally and internally, the existence and consequences of Marxism-Leninism would be countered and effectively negated.
What Nazism couldn't do, despite the efforts of persons like Himmler, was to establish a new religion transcending race; for race was fundamental to National Socialism, whose religious orientations were ideologically coloured and compromised forthwith. The irony is that an ideology disdainful of traditional religion would not have materialized without some degree of Catholic foreshadowing and even historicity which, largely stemming from southern Germany, was bound, in the nature of things, to take a dim view of Protestantism, the mode of Christianity axially furthest removed from Nazi ideology, as from the person of Hitler, who was of Austrian Catholic descent, not to mention other leading Nazis like Hess, Himmler, and of course Goebbels, who were of German Catholic descent. It is precisely this kind of ethnic precondition, one might say, that was bound to put Nazi Germany at loggerheads with predominantly Protestant countries like Britain and America, as well as give rise to internal contradictions and suspicions largely deriving from the traditional north/south divide between Protestants and Catholics in Germany itself.
Race is fundamental to the achievement of a higher or more genuine ethnicity, without which foundation there can be no religion but only a science-worshipping, class-obsessed rule of a society typified, in its majoritarian instincts, by profession and/or occupation along bourgeois/proletarian lines. Instead of deferring to culture from a broadly philistine standpoint, the civilized elements of what I term state-hegemonic society paradoxically defer to barbarity, as to the autocratic rule of aristocrats.
He said: the so-called Lord's Prayer sucks, because it references power and glory, those two female attributes of will and spirit, and does so, moreover, in relation to 'the Lord', which some would equate with 'the Father' and others with 'the Son' and yet others with 'the Holy Ghost' and still others – evidently more atomic and kind of religiously liberal – with all three rolled into One; a kind of composite Godhead comprised of 'the Blessed Trinity'. Whatever the individual class and/or gender case (and one mustn't forget the importance attached by many Catholics to the Marian 'Mother of God' at the expense, to varying extents, of 'the Son'), the 'Lord's Prayer' still sucks for referencing power and glory, those twin alpha attributes of a female, or objective, disposition at the expense of (the excluded) form and contentment, or ego and soul, those twin omega attributes of a male, or subjective, disposition which would have as little in common with this formulaic prayer as they do with the Mass, whether Anglican or Roman Catholic, orientated, one could argue, towards power in relation to the will or towards glory in relation to the spirit, that is, towards either 'the body' or 'the blood' of Christ, neither of which (as noted above) would appeal to anyone, least of all when male, who preferred to deny the flesh (body) not merely in the interests of spirit (the mass Catholic position) but, more significantly from a religious standpoint, in the interests of 'the mind' and, hence, soul, the fulcrum of metaphysics which, in the guise of Heaven the Holy Soul, has always been beyond the scope of Christianity and its 'Three-in-One' take on God which, frankly, is no more and no less than a worldly, atomic intermediate compromise, so typically Western, between the Judaic Jehovah, the One Creator God, which I identify as Devil the Mother hyped as God (the Father), and a Buddhist and more than Buddhist (post-Eastern) rejection of 'God', whether pre-atomic or atomic, Judaic or Christian, in the interests of a post-atomic focus on Heaven achieved through the cultivation of metaphysical soul, the soul-of-souls whose 'outer face', so to speak, is commensurate with God in a sense independent both of Devil the Mother and any worldly, atomic extrapolation of a Christian order such that, in its focus on either if not both Woman and Man, inevitably falls short of the heavenly requirement of 'Kingdom Come' in which the concept of 'God in Heaven' only has meaning in relation to what has been stated above about the religious fulcrum of metaphysics being soul and godliness no more than the outer manifestation, or presentation, of that inner experience which, being truly of the self, is justifiably sublime.
In 'Kingdom Come' there could be no power and glory, much less form, independent of contentment and the service thereof. For Heaven the Holy Soul would be the supreme ideal, the supreme mode of being, to which everything else, whether pseudo-female or administrative, would have to be subordinated.
An age beyond both the 'One God' and the 'Three-in-One God' can only be partial to the 'One Heaven', being effectively atheist with regard to the 'old gods', as Nietzsche would say, yet not on that account settling erroneously for a 'new god', even if given a more literal interpretation (see above) than one owing anything to traditional 'thingfulnesses', or female-dominated 'false gods', since only the 'One Heaven', a 'new heaven', will prevail whose outer manifestation, as it were, is God or, better, godly, but not on that account independent of the heaven of which it is an aspect.
Such it will be in 'Kingdom Come' for the metaphysical, the saved males, whilst for the pseudo-metachemical, the counter-damned pseudo-females, it will not be soul but pseudo-will (pseudo-bound will) which, compliments of the metaphysical hegemony a plane up from pseudo-metachemistry at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, is the fulcrum of the pseudo-metachemical context, and therefore we can – and should – speak of pseudo-Devil the Mother as the subordinate corollary of Heaven the Holy Soul. For it is not in free psyche but in pseudo-bound soma that the absolutely predominating ratio (3:1) exists in which the fulcrum of pseudo-metachemistry is to be found, in absolute contrast to the metaphysical fulcrum such that, when both factors or positions have been taken into account, inexorably leads to an analogue of the type saint and (neutralized) dragon or lamb and (neutralized) lion and/or wolf, as previously discussed.
Without 'self-overcoming', to use a Nietzschean phrase, in respect of the will, the spirit, and the ego, or the flesh, the blood, and the brain, or power, glory, and form … there can be no contentment in the 'true self' of the soul, whose mind (superconscious) is the godly reflection of heavenly feeling, the underlying supersensibility of the soul.
Therefore you must, as a male capable of metaphysics, 'die' to much more than 'the flesh' in order to achieve salvation from the world and, not least, that which rules over it from a netherworldly vantage-point 'in back', whether directly, in relation to the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate type of worldliness, or indirectly, in relation to the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate type of worldliness more identifiable, traditionally, with mainstream worldly criteria as germane to a mass catholic orientation latterly subjected to republican socialist secularity.
Even if the netherworldly position is the fulcrum of 'the flesh', as of the will, the blood and brain, the spirit and ego, are no guarantee of salvation but, on the contrary, attest, in their opposite ways, to a Christian, worldly, atomic shortfall from such a possibility, only likely to materialize or, more correctly, transpire, if at all, within 'Kingdom Come'.
My scepticism as to the relevance or desirability of what I buy or consider buying in relation to clothing, footwear, computer peripherals, CDs, etc., is such that I am usually reluctant to buy anything. No doubt, a sign of advancing age. Perhaps even of wisdom?
Relations between myself and the Bangladeshis in this house are so strained that I can only expect the worst. Never in my life have I had to endure so much systematic torment largely stemming from Asiatic criteria as here!
It is one of the great ironies of civilized history that the people who are usually most against free thought should be the religious, and that the absence of significant free thought from religion is due, in no small measure, to a shortfall from and/or opposition to metaphysics which leaves one with either anti-free thought in relation to bound soma or to anti-free thought from the standpoint of some alternative freedom and/or binding which would normally be associated with free speech, free verse, so to speak, or a free press, not to mention the bound opposites to each of those which always exist either in relation to each context or the truncated metaphysics of that which, given to bound soma in the crucifixional paradigm, is inherently hostile to virtually any form of freedom, its own free counterpart in free thought not excepted.
I believe it is worse to be against a given freedom from the standpoint of one or other of the bindings than from an alternative or contrary order of freedom, like free thought to free speech or even a free press to free verse, the classical opposition of reading to writing.
To me, Islam is the worst kind of religion because it upholds the paradoxical principle of 'holy war' to further and/or defend itself. Religious bigotry appears to attain to something of an acme with this religion, which is fundamentally intolerant of other religions.
That said, all religions are, to greater or lesser extents, intolerant of other religions, else there would be no justification for their existence as separate, independent religions with different approaches to and even concepts of God. So much so that those who think or imagine that all religions are fundamentally about the same thing, the same God, are grossly mistaken. Even within the same religion, like Christianity, there are significant differences between Catholics and Protestants, as well as between Protestants themselves, quite apart from the even wider differences between Christians in general and Judaists or Moslems or peoples of other religious traditions.
Islam is, in a sense, the inverted image of Judaism, with an emphasis upon the 'One God' that nevertheless differs, as Allah from Jehovah, from anything Judaic and therefore germane to Jews alone. Allah, the Moslem God, is by no means germane to Arabs alone, but is acknowledged and worshipped by many different peoples right across the globe, as, for that matter, is Christ, the fruit, in each case, of an imperialism that the Jews, driven into diaspora exile, were not in a position to emulate.
However, all religions that worship a God rather than strive to cultivate Heaven within the Self, the Soul, are fundamentally delusional and incapable, in consequence, of transcendental truth in the joy of metaphysical selfhood. Any religion that is true rather than false will be the least intolerant of others and, conversely, the most tolerant of self, least soma, one might say, and most psyche. Hitherto only Buddhism has fulfilled that requirement.
So-called abstract beauty, or beauty that owes more to psyche than to soma, is if not the highest kind of beauty then, at any rate, that which stands closest to truth, as pseudo-metachemical pseudo-free psyche to metaphysical free psyche, and is therefore the handmaiden, so to speak, of truth or, in the event of a metaphysical shortfall from truth (through illusion), even a substitute for truth, as has usually been the case with traditional religions when they are in some degree metaphysical but also, if imperfectly and as it were more spuriously, pseudo-metachemical, like Catholicism and even Islam to a degree.
The Beautiful per se, on the other hand, is concrete as opposed to abstract or, more correctly, pseudo-abstract, and is not only the highest, because hegemonic, mode of beauty but, being metachemical, that which is antithetical to religious truth in a kind of scientific objectivity deriving from its fundamentally vacuous – and hence female – nature. This beauty is somatic, not psychic, and it tends to rule over a pseudo-truth which, being pseudo-metaphysical, appertains to pseudo-free soma, the pseudo-male counterpart to the pseudo-free psyche of the pseudo-metachemical pseudo-female.
Therefore one cannot say, with Keats, that 'beauty is truth, truth beauty', but only that pseudo-truth exists in pseudo-metaphysical subordination, a plane down at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, to metachemical beauty, as germane to the Beautiful per se, whereas pseudo-beauty, by contrast, exists in pseudo-metachemical subordination, a plane down at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, to metaphysical truth, as germane to Truth per se.
Absolutes exclude one another, particularly when they are concrete on the one hand (beauty) and abstract on the other (truth), but the pseudo-concrete pseudo-truth is perfectly or, rather, imperfectly capable of co-existing with concrete beauty, and the pseudo-abstract pseudo-beauty no less imperfectly capable of co-existing with abstract truth, if, as with pseudo-truth, on a subordinate and even secondary basis, the basis not of secondary state-hegemonic subordination, as with pseudo-truth a plane down (at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass) from beauty, but on secondary church-hegemonic terms a plane down (at the northeast point of the said compass) from truth, to which it should ever defer because incapable of properly existing without it.
But pseudo-abstract beauty, like pseudo-concrete truth, is the least ratio aspect of the pseudo-element (pseudo-metachemistry) to which it pertains, and for that reason one cannot allow oneself to fall into the illogical trap of isolating it from its complementary most ratio aspect, the pseudo-bound soma that stands to pseudo-free psyche in a 3:1 ratio within the pseudo-metachemical context and is therefore its defining attribute. Just as, conversely, pseudo-truth counts for little within pseudo-metaphysics in relation to the pseudo-bound psyche of pseudo-illusion, so pseudo-beauty counts for little in relation to the pseudo-bound soma of pseudo-ugliness within the pseudo-metachemical context, a context, or pseudo-element, defined, neutralized dragon-like, by its absolutely predominating ratio aspect.
Far from being identical, the co-existence of pseudo-truth with beauty and, conversely, of pseudo-beauty with truth is also the co-existence of pseudo-illusion with ugliness and of pseudo-ugliness with illusion.
The oppression of adults, particularly when male, by kids is a subject worthy of investigation and analysis in an age when the Western decadence of bourgeois equalitarianism has been eclipsed, in the big cities, by the cosmopolitan barbarity of juvenile tyranny, of unchecked, untrammelled anarchic behaviour within the context, by and large, of dysfunctional families or one-parent anomalies of a largely proletarian or immigrant nature.
It could be said that we live in a kind of superfeudal age in which the distinction between lords and peasants has been superseded by one between landlords and tenants, with police being akin to knights.
Yesterday evening all hell broke loose. I went downstairs to the kitchen, which I share with a number of others, at my accustomed time of around ten o'clock to wash a couple of dishes and fetch some mineral water from the communal fridge only to be followed and violently accosted by the landlord's strapping teenage son (not the autistic one alluded to earlier), who became so abusively aggressive, ostensibly over my 'shitty music' having been played too loud (I didn't think so) and my having habitually 'taken the piss' by doing this and that, turning the music back up after someone had knocked on my door on previous occasions, etc., that I was fortunate to escape with my life, since both of his parents, having got wind of what was afoot, were quickly on-hand to physically restrain him and hold him back from further thrusting himself upon me and adding physical violence to verbal abuse.
I couldn't reason with him; for every time I tried to defend myself by assuring him that I hadn't been 'taking the piss', or whatever, but simply countering stupid tit-for-tat practises that drive me up the wall in their superficial frequency and cold-blooded mean-spiritedness, he became even more agitated and kept shouting 'I don't want to hear this' and other dismissive statements punctuated by sighs of exasperation intended to let him retain the run of his anger, so to speak, and give full vent to it. Fortunately for me, one of his friends had also come down to the kitchen with him, a tall well-built youth whom I had seen in his company before on one or two occasions, who was in a calmer mood overall, even though he felt obliged to side with the landlord's son against me and occasionally join in his criticisms with a few of his own.
Eventually the landlord, who was still holding back his son, brought up the long-standing grudge, as if to add fuel to the fire of their general resentment or, at any rate, exploit the situation to his personal advantage (a not untypical event in this house), that I had sworn at him on a number of occasions, and this was also evidently one of the grudges of his son, although arbitrary changes of subject to suit their overall agenda are not uncommon with them, and though I might have lost my temper on occasions in the past and stamped my foot or cursed in a general, diffuse way, without knowing exactly who was to blame, it was for a good reason so far as I was concerned, in that I had felt myself to be provoked by a number of ill-timed – or for them well-timed – thumps or stamps or other actions upon the ceiling from where they lived on the floor above intended, so far as I could gauge, to interfere with my lifestyle or peace of mind or just somehow 'put the boot in', whether or not in the hope of getting me out of the property or from pure spite I couldn't tell.
Right now, however, I felt shamefully humiliated and increasingly helpless in the face of their barrage of accusations and recriminations, some of which evidently dated back several years, not to be able to say much other than that I wouldn't have lost my temper had I not felt unduly threatened and, always being in a minority of one, kind of unfairly warred upon by one or more of them for reasons best known to themselves. This didn't seem to have much effect, however.
When, eventually, things simmered down a little or, rather, became slightly less fraught, I was able to pour myself some water mixed with fruit juice (to what sounded like their mutual amusement) and I then proceeded to wash the dishes, as I had initially intended to do, I got a severe turn for the worse and felt myself to be the victim – not for the first time – of a peculiarly Asian kind of rage and resentment, maybe even one that was uniquely Bangladeshi or the product, in consequence of ethnic incompatibility, of racial animosity or Moslem resentment not least against music, and rock music in particular. After the teenagers finally left the kitchen to go out or back upstairs, shepherded by the landlord, who had at least, through his intervention, prevented worse from coming to pass, I knew, with the utmost certainty, that this was the last straw and that I had to do everything in my rather limited power and resources to get the hell out of this mean-spirited house and well away from them.
I can't describe how humiliated and frustrated I feel, but I know this is not a situation I can continue to live with, assuming it didn't culminate in my being injured or even killed by the reckless youth or a combination of him and the moron downstairs.
Today, Saturday 1st December, was a depressing day not only hung over from the previous night but spent in umpteen estate agents as far afield as Enfield and Finsbury Park with some in Crouch End thrown in for good measure – as yet, to now avail. Though I did get to view a studio apartment on the busy and overly commercial Stroud Green Road in Finsbury Park, a road I had already lived in back in the early seventies at my mother's address before she moved around the corner to Woodstock Road, where she still lives. But the noise from the constant stream of traffic, including frequently-passing double-decker buses (you know how I view them), in the street below, coupled to the fact that both the bed and settee compartments of this apartment were situated towards the front, overlooking the road, made it appear, even had I been able to afford the rent, utilities, council tax, etc., pretty unattractive overall. I shall just have to keep on searching, more out of desperation than any confidence of success, since people like myself usually get short shrift with estate agents.
If I could believe in God and were a praying type, I would ask Him to both protect me and direct my steps … that I might make the right decisions and be kept relatively safe from physical harm.
If righteousness is being true to self, to one's soul, as a male, then you cannot drink alcohol and be righteous. Alcohol both poisons the body and corrupts the mind, so that one feels both physically sick and mentally possessed, as though by a demon who speeds up an arbitrary discharge of thoughts over which one has little or no conscious control.
Losing control of the mind and having to endure a diminution in the health of the body conspire to thwart self-respect and, hence, the prospect of righteousness. Don't be fooled!
The world, largely comprised of people who both physically poison and mentally derange themselves through alcohol abuse, is clearly quite mad. Either that or the abstainers from alcohol are mad and the drunks sane. But how could that be? The world is simply a dreadful place that drives most people to drink, irrespective, seemingly, of their class.
In Britain race counts for very little. Indeed, if you harp upon the importance of race (as foundation to an ethnic predilection favouring religion) you are likely to be dismissed as a crank or even accused of being a racist, fascist, or whatever. Britain is not, after all, about ethnicity, a religious orientation premised upon a specific racial foundation. On the contrary, it is about class on the one hand and occupation on the other, and therefore considerations of race are frowned upon as irrelevant or simply undesirable in a multicultural society, especially one that, in the big cities, those bastions of occupation, is highly cosmopolitan.
Now if, by contrast, you are of Irish Catholic descent or persuasion you are likely to be mindful, not least through organizations like the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association), of the relevance if not crucial importance of some kind of racial framework from the standpoint of ethnic viability since, as mentioned before, race is fundamental to the attainment of a given ethnicity, without which church-hegemonic criteria would simply cease to exist and/or be eclipsed, as to some extent does happen (even in Ireland) by state-hegemonic criteria predisposed, through class foundations, to an occupational if not professional predilection which 'fights shy', from overall metachemical dominion, of considerations of race – and, hence, in a certain sense of racism – to the achievement of ethnic partiality, and simply because anything to do with allegiance, not least through Roman Catholicism, to a more genuine approach to religion, an approach favouring, no matter how imperfectly or incompletely, metaphysics, is a kind of taboo subject in Britain by dint of its largely secular axial orientation deriving from a Protestant protest against religion (Roman Catholicism) back in the sixteenth century, following the excommunication from the 'one true Church' of Henry VIII for having committed more than sin.
Therefore, with several centuries of anti-Catholic protest and counter-measures behind her, Britain is one of the last countries on earth that would be interested in acknowledging, never mind encouraging, the requisite foundations for a religious orientation, especially since her Empire led, via trade, to dominion over huge numbers of coloured peoples, the vast majority of whom would have had no Christian ethnicity or even historical inclination towards Christianity.
How unlike Germany which, despite the hideous excesses of National Socialism, saw the importance of race to an ethnic foundation. And how unlike the Republic of Ireland which, despite inroads made by secularists of one persuasion or another, is still, through the GAA, mindful of the relevance of race to an ethnic outcome favouring religion.
To me, multiculturalism and/or multiracialism (call it by what name you like) is the secular denial of any such religious orientation, the fruit of Protestant heresy (which led to a switch of axis from church-hegemonic on a southwest-to-northeast axial basis to state-hegemonic on a northwest-to-southeast axial basis), and the guarantor, in consequence, of freedom from religious responsibility, not least in respect of the regular confession of sins. Britain is, frankly, a detestable place for a religiously-minded person, whether Catholic or non-Catholic, to live in, since where there is no sin there can be little prospect of grace, axially speaking, even if, ultimately, grace must be independent of sin. Rather, is Britain torn, in hegemonically axial terms (female) between crime and punishment or, from a more somatically prevalent standpoint, evil and good, with crime and punishment, their psychic corollaries, being antithetically equivalent to the folly and wisdom, those subordinate somatic attributes, accompanying the rather more church-hegemonically representative sin and grace of the male-dominated Catholic axial polarity.
The gods of barbarous peoples are always 'great', 'almighty', 'all-powerful', etc., like barbarians themselves.
Those who use force, or the threat of violence, to get their way are fundamentally barbaric, given to physical tyranny over others presumed, rightly or wrongly, as being weaker than themselves. Such people make no allowances, as a rule, for culture and civility, favouring, rather, a philistine satisfaction in worship of the barbarous.
The British are essentially a civilized people who only enter into war with the utmost reluctance, as and when all other avenues for combating tyranny or barbarism have failed. Whether from experience or common sense, they have learnt that war should only be undertaken as a last resort and got over with as quickly and professionally as possible. This, in part, explains their reluctance to conscript persons whose suitability in this matter could be called into question, with conscription being something of a last resort in exceptional circumstances.
The Americans, as a younger people, are, on the whole, less sensible than the British in this regard, though still reasonably cautious about the desirability of waging war, not least of all gratuitously, since the financial and personal costs can be enormous.
Barbarous peoples live for war; civilized peoples for peace. But civilized peoples can and should wage war against the barbarous when they feel unduly threatened or are overly sensitive to the enormity of what barbarism is up to elsewhere.
You cannot simply stand by, as a civilized person, and allow barbarians to get away with murder. Else civilization will be compromised and undermined by barbarism.
Christians have a right to regard the worshippers of 'all-powerful' gods as barbarians, given the inoffensive and even meek nature of the Christian god who, in the person of Christ, hangs limply on the Cross as testimony to what, in effect, is the opposite of 'all-powerful'.
Christ was the victim of powerful adversaries, even tyrants, whom Christians prefer not to identify with, opposing undue manifestations of 'almightiness' wherever they may be found. He who died on the Cross died not only because of sin, which is philistine, but also – and possibly more so – because of crime, which is barbarous.
Thus the criminality of barbarism has to be contrasted with the justice of Christians who, abjuring power, refuse to bow to tyranny and submit to the barbarous rule of despots.
You have first of all to militarily defeat barbarism before the barbarians can be civilized – through example.
Is civilization, or civility, a good thing? Only a fool would consider barbarism, or barbarity, to be better!
Christ was crucified on a hill (Golgotha), not a mountain, and therefore in a context well away, to an antithetical degree, from the life-affirming power mongers who tend, like Nietzsche's Zarathustra, to identify with mountains, not least through castles or even mountain redoubts like the Berghof. One might say that in death Christ achieves, via the resurrection, a certain contentment that follows from the denial not only of will, that fulcrum of power, but also from the denial of spirit and ego, of glory and form, without which no identification with the soul, the fulcrum of contentment, is possible.
Therefore this metaphor of dying to the world on a hill is eternally valid, even if subject to a validity that will be overhauled in 'Kingdom Come', when Eternity becomes the hegemonic principle characterized by the denial of will, as of the body, and the affirmation of soul, as of the mind, in the ultimate contentment of true being.
What if the Irish Republic were equivalent to a 'reculer pour mieux sauter', a stepping back in order to leap further forwards, as from republicanism to the politico-religious structure of 'Kingdom Come' which, as the reader may know, I tend to identify with Social Theocracy and with what, in the past, I have referred to as the Social Theocratic Centre, as germane to a context in which the People are religiously sovereign and therefore entitled to certain rights in relation to that sovereignty?
Clearly, the United Kingdom is not 'Kingdom Come', and whilst it continues to exist it can only do so in relation to state-hegemonic axial criteria that keep it at loggerheads with anything church hegemonic, like the Catholic tradition which the Republic of Ireland inherited and still, to some extent, both recognizes and honours, even if from a standpoint that has effectively superseded Catholicism and might well, in due course, pave the way for Social Theocracy, thus vindicating itself as a transitional phenomenon, the aforementioned 'reculer pour mieux sauter' coming in between British Protestant rule and any future 'resurrection' of church-hegemonic criteria along necessarily revolutionary lines commensurate with the inception of 'Kingdom Come'.
To me, the notion that the Republic should be seen as an end-in-itself is, frankly, ludicrous and, what's more, morally undesirable, since it renders the People more vulnerable, in its relative secularity, to predatory impositions of a largely metachemical/pseudo-metaphysical nature, the sorts of impositions that, rooted in the exemplification of somatic licence, tend to stem not from church-hegemonic but, on the contrary, state-hegemonic axial criteria, which are precisely those of Britain and, to an even greater extent, America.
I know Ireland, its pouring rain, its bitter wind, its overbearing greyness and even drabness, but I also know that, above and beyond the weather, it is different from Britain and, in a sense, more than Britain, capable, in its religious instincts, of being true to a unique destiny which it has both a social and moral right to as a country where, in traditional terminology, 'God and the Church' come first, not, like Britain, the Devil and the State, and for that reason I believe it can be renewed in relation to an entirely new order of God and Church which will be akin to Heaven and the Centre, the heavenly Centre of 'Kingdom Come'.
As I think I've said before (though not in this title), science and superstition are as related, in their opposite gender ways, as religion and art, though not, however, as 'two sides of the same coin', so to speak, but as two separate 'coins' which reflect their gender distinctions.
For science, being objective, is female in character, whereas superstition is pseudo-subjective and, hence, pseudo-male, corresponding, one might say, to a subordinate gender position vis-a-vis science, pretty much like pseudo-metaphysics under metachemistry or even pseudo-physics under chemistry.
By contrast, religion, being subjective, is male in character, whereas art is pseudo-objective and, hence, pseudo-female, corresponding to a subordinate gender position vis-a-vis religion, pretty much as pseudo-metachemistry under metaphysics or even pseudo-chemistry under physics.
Therefore a parallel of sorts can be said to exist between superstition and art, but only to the extent that they exist at gender cross-purposes with the hegemonic discipline to which they respectively appertain, and it would be wildly illogical to suppose, as some do, that religion and superstition 'hang together' or, conversely, that science and art 'hang together' in a hegemonic/subordinate relationship.
The fact is that superstition endeavours to bring a subjective dimension to bear on objectivity, or objective matters, which is precisely why it is pseudo-subjective, in marked contrast to the subjectivity of religion.
Likewise, if from a contrary point of view, art endeavours to bring an objective dimension to bear on subjectivity, or subjective feelings and considerations, which is precisely why it is pseudo-objective, in marked contrast to the objectivity of science.
Now whilst science and religion are mutually exclusive in their respective types of absolutism, the objective refusing to allow for revelatory subjectivity and the subjective refusing to countenance empirical objectivity, with contrary gender implications, it should logically follow that superstition and art will likewise be mutually exclusive, since a pseudo-subjective interpretation of the objective, as of objectivity in general, must necessarily exist in paradoxical contrast to a pseudo-objective interpretation of the subjective, as of subjectivity in general, their respective points of reference being in opposite directions, that is, towards either science or religion, though not both.
Hence the equation of art with science or of superstition with religion is not only illogical; it is demonstrably untrue, and no more than a prejudicial presumption or supposition deriving from a want of logic on the part of those who either wish to debunk religion from the standpoint of superstition or debunk science from the standpoint of art.
Objective/pseudo-objective parallels between science and art in the one case have to be contrasted with subjective/pseudo-subjective parallels between religion and superstition in the other case, but such parallels are in no way compatible with their 'hanging together', like metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics or metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry, still less with their somehow being 'two sides of the same coin', like free soma and bound psyche in the case of metachemistry or free psyche and bound soma in the case of metaphysics, to take but the scientific and religious extremes.
If the superstitious pseudo-male, preferring to see aliens where empiricism detects a monkey, is effectively a 'sonofabitch' vis-a-vis science, then the artistic pseudo-female, striving to grant form to that which essentially transcends it, is effectively what could, in antithetically parallel terms, be called a 'daughterofabastard', with little in common with her superstitious counterpart, who is, after all, endeavouring to interpret or explain the objective on his own necessarily pseudo-subjective terms, not interpret the subjective on terms which, using representative means, betray a pseudo-objective disposition fundamentally at loggerheads with subjectivity and pseudo-subjectivity alike, if closer, in gender terms, to the objectivity of science.
So, of course, religion and superstition, no less than science and art, do have something in common, but only in respect of their gender (whether literally or figuratively and, as it were, effectively upheld). As regards a direct correlation between religion and superstition on the one hand, and science and art on the other – forget it! That is the stuff of mythical fancy, not of philosophical logic.
Didn't Nietzsche tend, in repudiating Schopenhauer's will-denial from personal motives not unconnected with poor health, to go on about 'life affirmation', that comedy of errors behind the tragedy of counter-measures that bedevils this world and makes one acutely conscious, as an adult male, of just how much of a 'con' (the Americans would say 'bitch') life really is, a 'con' that makes one pay, in so many ways, for the dubious privilege of existing in a world dominated by female life-affirmers, who have little or no choice but to acquire, via reproduction, a surrogate plenum to relieve them, no matter how temporarily or intermittently, from the vacuousness of their basic gender condition as females. And the average male, co-opted to this life affirmation, becomes by association an indirect affirmer of life conceived, female-wise, in predominantly somatic terms, the terms of flesh and blood, will and spirit, power and glory, space and volume, to which his brain and mind, ego and soul, form and contentment, mass and time, are perforce bent and, inevitably, corrupted. Only a negation of life lived on these terms, those of the world, can lead via death or, more correctly, the dying through a denial of female-dominated life to the Life Eternal, the life of the Soul, which it would be the privilege of the metaphysical to live in the event of the world or, rather, the electorate of certain countries having democratically elected via a majority mandate for religious sovereignty and the rights appertaining thereto which, under Social Theocracy, would lead, in due course, to man's being overcome in the interests of his salvation from that which, affirming life, would keep him forever chained to the world.
Needless to say, the salvation of the one gender, in this case male, axially presupposes the counter-damnation of the other, and thus the neutralization of that which would otherwise continue to preclude otherworldly liberation from a standpoint firmly rooted in the netherworldly, as in the beautiful free will of Devil the Mother (traditionally hyped as 'God the Father'), the excluder not just of God the Father but, more importantly from a metaphysical standpoint, Heaven the Holy Soul, the religious antithesis to a scientific absolute that will always be the natural or, more correctly, supernatural enemy, by its very existence, of the supernurtural sensibility, as it were, of true religion, ever denying, by its continued dominance, the right of such religion to exist.
Now if there is one thing that is absolutely certain it's that Heaven the Holy Soul cannot come triumphantly to pass except through the rejection and effective dethronement of Devil the Mother, a process only indirectly impacting upon Her as the pseudo-economic, pseudo-physical pseudo-males opt for metaphysical religion and, correlatively, the political, chemical females are perforce obliged to accept pseudo-metachemical pseudo-science, the pseudo-Devil the Mother counterpart, in pseudo-bound will, to Heaven the Holy Soul.
Only thereafter will the metachemical/pseudo-metaphysical and physical/pseudo-chemical polarities cease to exist. For without chemical/pseudo-physical 'prey', they will no longer be able to continue in the secular business of exploiting the latter – lapsed catholic/republican socialist generality – through both the exemplification and financing of somatic licence to a profiteering end, and will accordingly cease to axially exist. The operative terms here are not salvation and counter-damnation (as with the church-hegemonic axis) but damnation (of the metachemical to pseudo-chemistry) and counter-salvation (of the pseudo-metaphysical to physics), with the prospect, following a kind of judgement within the collapsed state-hegemonic context of what had been the prime movers at each pole of the said axis, of the non-activist generality thereof being accommodated to the stepped-up (resurrected) church-hegemonic axis in middle (ex-puritan) and bottom (ex-anglican) tier positions, duly gender divisible, under the ex-catholic Saved and counter-Damned in what I have elsewhere (see earlier texts) described as the Triadic Beyond, a necessarily pluralistic precondition of long-term metaphysical/pseudo-metachemical totalitarianism in the Space Centre apotheosis, Celestial City-like, of the entire 'Kingdom Come' process, a process doubtless proceeding from deep underground to a very high overground culmination after the fashion of a 'reculer pour mieux sauter', a stepping back (for defensive purposes) in order to leap further forwards (into space) when the time and circumstances are propitious.
All this – and more – has been stated before in various of my mature writings, the titles of which are too numerous to relate, so do not suppose this to be the first time I have gone into it, even if one occasionally finds something new to add or adopts a slightly different approach to the same themes, themes which, having been dealt with in more detail elsewhere, hardly need to be further elaborated upon here.
Only a tiny handful of persons will understand me and be worthy of my work. The rest are simply persons whose opinions count for naught in the general scheme of eschatological and ontological speculation. The masses, being female-dominated, cannot be trusted from a religious standpoint, nor should one compromise one's philosophy by endeavouring to court the masses, least of all via some kind of soapbox oratory or political harangue. Overcoming them, as of 'man' or 'mankind', will be a long, slow, arduous process, not something that could be achieved in a few years or even decades, and therefore it cannot be rushed or entered into on a populist basis. It will happen gradually, by degrees, or not at all. For you can't turn things around and effectively defeat woman overnight. You must be patient, determined, and, above all, tactful, and you must know exactly why and to what ends you are engaged upon a course of action that will be opposed by the majority and have little or no popular support.
This is a philosophy for the Few or, more specifically, for the theocratically-minded Few, those partial to metaphysics, and you will need all your cunning and intelligence to master the democratic Many, to bring them to the 'judgement' of deciding whether or not to democratically opt (elect) for religious sovereignty and, in the event (not entirely implausible) of a majority mandate thereof subsequently transpiring, to follow you into 'Kingdom Come' and a very different order of society from what obtains in the world or, rather, in the type of worldliness with which, as chemical and pseudo-physical, they are acquainted.
The prospects, in the event of success in this respect, are, however, limitless, corresponding both to Eternity and to the pseudo-Infinity which will be the pseudo-bound will subordinate to free soul in the event of a metaphysical hegemony over pseudo-metachemistry, as of religion over pseudo-science and, hence, time over pseudo-space, the 'lamb' over the (neutralized) 'wolf' and/or 'lion' of Christian eschatology 'writ large' by the Superchristianity of what I have called Social Theocracy and hold to be the nemesis of anything Social Democratic.
Only via Social Theocracy can Roman Catholicism be overhauled and the world be 'overcome'. For unlike Roman Catholicism, with its truncated metaphysics (the bound soma of the crucifixional paradigm) in consequence of the extrapolative straining-on-the-leash nature of Catholicism away from the Creator-esque roots of the Judeo-Christian tradition, Social Theocracy, by contrast, will be without metaphysical limits, being completely independent of metachemistry and, hence, of the reproductive, Creator-esque free will of Devil the Mother, and independent not so much through God the Father as through Heaven the Holy Soul, the actual fulcrum of the metaphysical element (photonic?) whose life is eternal.
If superstition is bad for science, as pseudo-subjectivity for objectivity, then it should follow, if on an antithetical basis, that art will be bad for religion, as pseudo-objectivity for subjectivity, since a corruption, in effect, of inner feelings through outer presentation (representation). Just as science could do without superstition, as of an emotional deflection from empirical evidence or analysis, so religion, when in any degree genuine (true) would be better served without art, although, as with science and superstition, religion and art are close bedfellows on effectively opposite sides of the gender fence, and religion, like science, has rarely been able to escape from the attentions of its suitor or gender counterpart, since subjectivity, which is male, will usually if not invariably engender a pseudo-objective reaction in the form of art that is, I suppose, a bit like a nun to a monk or even, in an analogous context, fiction of one sort or another to philosophy, the equivalent, where superstition and science are concerned, of a kind of poetic reaction to drama, the more objective art form that poetry often unconsciously undermines through a pseudo-subjective interpretation of facts or objective phenomena largely deriving from a disposition that, being in some degree male (if pseudo-male in its gender subordination to a female, that is, dramatic hegemony), is fundamentally at loggerheads with the outside world and with whatever speaks directly from objective experience or is capable of being empirically verified.
Were science able to be entirely rid of superstition it would no doubt proceed as though superstition didn't exist or had been exposed for what it was worth and summarily dispatched to the historical rubbish bin of false claims and presumptuous inferences, and there are doubtless scientists who would consider themselves above superstition and objectively incapable of drawing false conclusions, even though plenty of evidence to the contrary can usually be found.
Likewise, if from a contrary gender standpoint, religion would doubtless prefer, in the course of its subjective progress towards enhanced lightness of being, to be rid of art, but a deal with the Devil or, in this case, pseudo-Devil (the Mother) is a necessary evil in consequence of having to deal with matters effectively germane to the opposite sex, and it is better that art should be the proverbial handmaiden of religion and therefore be, to some extent, religiously accountable than have a largely or, worse, completely independent existence in the form of art-for-art's-sake that, in the nature of things, could only result in its secular downfall, whether on a quasi-scientific 'objective' basis likely to reflect, as empirically as possible, the outside world or, alternatively, on a quasi-superstitious 'pseudo-subjective' basis in which the outside world is imaginatively transformed if not grossly distorted through emotions having their basis in a certain pseudo-subjective contempt for objectivity. Either way and the art in question, be it quasi-female ('objective') or quasi-pseudo-male ('pseudo-subjective') will no longer be depicting religion, so to speak, but have 'sold out' to the other side, to all that is both contrary and inimical to religion, not to mention genuine art, in what can only be described as one type of another of anti-art, of which there are countless examples, from modern realism and surrealism to expressionism and impressionism, in the twentieth century and beyond that, like the artistes alluded to on an earlier page, tend to predominate and to pass muster, with the ignorant, as art and the work of artists!
Nothing, however, could be further from being the case. But so much are things alpha-stemming if not alpha-orientated in this day and age of bourgeois decadence/proletarian barbarism, that anything remotely resembling genuine art would appear completely out-of-place in a world habituated to the ruthless deployment of the 'objective' and 'pseudo-subjective' so-called freedoms of the anti-artist, the musical artiste's creative counterpart. Suffice it to say that the madness of anti-art can only continue to prevail in a sick and barbarous world so long as society has not opted, via messianic intervention or some equivalent exponent through philosophy of a 'transvaluation of values', for a new religion and a new art (beyond the Catholic tradition of religion and religious art), the latter of which will both delineate and admire (worship?) the former from a standpoint which is nonetheless capable of being censured and made categorically aware of its subordinate status in a kind of supporting role reserved for all that is less than metaphysical but indubitably no more than pseudo-metachemical, with art equivalent to the (neutralized) dragon under the saintly heel of this ultimate religion.
As a footnote to the above, I should add that although the 'bovaryization' of art towards superstition in quasi-pseudo-subjectivity and science in quasi-objectivity, with consequences described as anti-art, is the more prevalent tendency in the modern age, the contrary if comparable 'bovaryization', or twisting, of superstition towards both art and religion in quasi-pseudo-objective and quasi-subjective terms is by no means unheard of, even these days, and instead of the standard pseudo-subjective 'take' on matters objective, such as the presumption of an alien life-form contrary to empirical verification of a rare species of monkey or ape by science, one has a predilection, through what could be called anti-superstition (the contrary equivalent of anti-art) towards either magic or mysticism or some occult belief that may seem to be grounded, like astrology, in a degree of objectivity.
Although I am far from being an expert in such matters, my guess is that the quasi-subjective 'bovaryization' of superstition tends towards mysticism and belief in miracles, whereas the quasi-pseudo-objective 'bovaryization' thereof tends, rather more 'pseudo-scientifically', towards the occult, with a corresponding predilection for 'black' as opposed to 'white' magic. So just as art can be bent towards science and superstition, and is arguably the more prevalent kind of 'art' in our own time, so superstition can be bent towards art and religion, and I fancy (though the word seems like an understatement) that the tendency towards 'anti-superstition' was much more prevalent in the Christian, and particularly Medieval Catholic, past than ever it is today, when science is the ruling discipline within an alpha-stemming if not alpha-orientated society deriving, in no small measure, from Protestant opposition to church-hegemonic axial norms and culminating in the technologically-driven secularity which is becoming increasingly global in character and not just confined to the traditionally more industrialized West, not least in its British and American manifestations. Only in an age that was self-consciously committed to an omega orientation would one find superstition turning against itself to a degree whereby both religion and art were threatened by its 'bovaryization' as, paradoxically, 'anti-superstition', the counterpart of 'anti-art' and the quasi-scientific and quasi-superstitious audacities of 'modern art' in an age and/or society dominated by the objective criteria of science.
There is a saying 'less is more', and, to be sure, this can paradoxically be the case, as when soul is less will and, instead of the dominance of Hell, you have Heaven; or when ego is less spirit and, instead of the domination of Purgatory, so to speak, you have the Earth, both of which male attributes require the subordination, through some degree of neutralization or inhibiting, of will and spirit, as of the female capacity to objectively impose them, via free soma, at the expense of or, where the male is concerned, to the detriment of soul and ego, will noumenally eclipsing soul and, down below, in the realm of phenomenal relativity, spirit eclipsing ego, with predictably pseudo-bound psychic consequences for what is then the pseudo-male of either pseudo-metaphysical subordination to metachemistry, the element of will, or pseudo-physical subordination to chemistry, the element of spirit.
So, in that sense, 'less' is certainly 'more', and the male who can avoid having either his soul or his ego eclipsed in such fashions will be less false to himself, or his self, and correspondingly more true to his self, be that self the soul or the ego, noumenal or phenomenal, absolute or relative, within contexts that, being subjective, are psychically abstract, the antithesis, in every sense, of the somatic concretion to which, through will and spirit, he can so easily and, no doubt, more naturally succumb, thus serving to perpetuate the world.
Increasingly, I find myself looking forward to death as an escape from life.
Soma and psyche, female and male, alpha and omega, concrete and abstract, particles and wavicles, objective and subjective, body and mind, whether on absolute or relative, noumenal or phenomenal, ethereal or corporeal terms, with the 'body's mind', the blood (seat through the heart of the spirit), still classifiable as soma, and the 'mind's body', the brain (seat through cogitation of the ego), still classifiable as psyche, if on relative (spirit vis-a-vis ego) as opposed to absolute (will vis-a-vis soul) terms. And all because, gender-wise, the body, being objective, can only be soma, like will and spirit, with the mind, its subjective counterpart, psyche, like ego and soul. The 'body's mind' is no less of the body proper (flesh) than the 'mind's body' of the mind (consciousness), even if on devolved terms respectively. For spirit is no less devolved from will than ego from soul, the literal core of the self from a male standpoint which absolutely contrasts with its female counterpart in the genitalia, whose self is somatic as opposed to psychic.
All backward peoples are fundamentally more objective (and female-dominated) than their civilized counterparts in the developed world like, for example, Western Europe. In fact, so fundamentally objective, with a sense of self that is somatic rather than psychic, are they that the word 'fundamentalism' takes on an altogether new and, one could argue, sinister meaning in connection with the wilful and spiritual, not to say spirited, natures of such peoples.
If America, or the so-called New World, has injected new life into the moribund carcass of Europe, or the so-called Old World, particularly in its Western manifestation, it has come, this 'new life', at a high price – namely at the cost of Christian values and the cultivation, through culture, of sensibility, not to mention its corollary (particularly with regard to pseudo-females) of civility. Rather is the 'New World' a brash apostle and proselytiser of secular values premised upon a form of materialistic free enterprise that, in its technological sophistication, some, especially when of an effectively Superchristian disposition, would equate with a kind of superheathenism. Going forwards in reverse, with an eye firmly fixed on the Alpha, contemporary civilization, which is post-Western though not yet fully global in character, has yet to achieve that 'transvaluation of values' (Nietzsche) commensurate with the furtherance of enhanced sensibility and therefore an end to female domination through feminism, the kind of domination, not uncharacteristic of America, that makes, by contrast, for enhanced sensuality and, hence, for a barbarous rejection of civility and, more on the male side of the gender divide, a philistine (barbarity-worshipping) rejection of culture which, when true, is inseparable from religion.
The distinction I drew the other day between female devolution on the one hand from will to spirit, flesh to blood, body to the body's mind, and male devolution on the other hand from soul to ego, spinal cord to brain, mind to mind's body, needs to be further qualified in terms of the progressive nature of objective, or female, devolution from will to spirit, etc., in the one case, and of the regressive nature of subjective, or male, devolution from soul to ego, etc., in the other case, since whereas the female mode of devolution leads down from beauty to pride, as from a vacuum to the acquirement, via pregnancy and childbirth, of a surrogate plenum (the Marian 'ideal' or female resolution in maternity), its male counterpart leads down from joy to knowledge (the 'forbidden tree' of Biblical reference), as from perfect self-centredness independent of objectivity to a mode of self physically dependent, by and large, on external sources of knowledge axially dominated by the rule of beauty. Therefore whilst progressive devolution for females implies the superseding of will by spirit, regressive devolution, its male counterpart, implies the superseding of soul by ego and a kind of egocentric selfhood which, being phenomenally relative rather than noumenally absolute, is subjected, via the pursuit of knowledge, to the rule of beauty in free will.
But the converse of each kind of devolution is, of course, evolution, and when the female evolves back to free will from free spirit in free soma it is necessarily a regressive order of evolution that leads from pride to beauty, as from giving to doing. Contrariwise, when the male evolves back to free soul from free ego in free psyche it is necessarily a progressive order of evolution that leads from knowledge to joy, as from taking to being.
Therefore whilst regressive evolution leads from chemistry to metachemistry, as from relative alpha to absolute alpha, phenomenal objectivity to noumenal objectivity, Purgatory to Hell, progressive evolution, by contrast, leads from physics to metaphysics, as from relative omega to absolute omega, phenomenal subjectivity to noumenal subjectivity, the Earth to Heaven.
That is the distinction, more categorically, between the gender-conditioned antithetical modes of devolution and evolution, and one can be confident that where the male side of the equation is concerned there is indeed a devolutionary 'fall', regressively, from soul to ego commensurate, in a sense, with the fall of God (or God in Heaven) to man (or man on the Earth), which can only be rectified, or reversed, in the event of an evolutionary 'rise', commensurate with salvation, from man to God or, more accurately in relation to the metaphysical fulcrum being soul, to Heaven.
As for 'woman', she too 'falls', albeit progressively, as described above, but also 'rises' regressively back to her starting-point in the wilful fulcrum (genitalia) of the flesh, from which position she can progressively devolve afresh, and so on, until such time as man elects to be delivered, via God, from subservience to this cycle of world-perpetuating objectivity by refusing to meekly submit to woman and, instead, opting (democratically) for Heaven the Holy Soul as his true centre in what has been called 'Kingdom Come', the goal of progressive evolution that will require the regressive counter-devolution (counter-damnation) of females to a subordinate status in pseudo-metachemistry under metaphysics, as the proverbial 'lion and/or wolf' that 'lies down' (through neutralization) with the 'lamb' less of godly truth than of heavenly joy in the absolute centre of metaphysics.
Is it the day of deliverance or is it doomsday? Actually, right now, despite the date being 12/12/12, it's neither. But that doesn't mean to say that such a day can't come to pass presumably at some time in the not-too-distant future. And if it does, rest assured that it will be both a day of deliverance and a doomsday, that is, salvation from pseudo-physics to metaphysics for males (the 'last' becoming 'first') and, correlatively if conversely, counter-damnation from chemistry to pseudo-metachemistry for females (the 'first' becoming 'last'), for whom the day in question would not be one of deliverance (from female domination) but, rather, one of doom, as the world officially comes to an end in relation to the beginning, in 'Kingdom Come', of otherworldly/pseudo-netherworldly criteria designed to reward males with the grace and wisdom of eternal righteousness and condemn females, by contrast, to the pseudo-punishment and pseudo-goodness of pseudo-infinite pseudo-justice, the pseudo-metachemical pseudo-diabolic concomitant, through pseudo-Devil the Mother, of a metaphysical hegemony in Heaven the Holy Soul.
London, September-December. 2012