Op. 132




A Philosophical Autobiography by John O’Loughlin


Dedicated to the memory of Charles Baudelaire,

French Poet and Philosopher


Copyright © 2010 John O’Loughlin



In Metachemistry, the fiery element par excellence, Beauty and Love = Hot; Ugliness and Hate = Fast.


In Chemistry, the watery element par excellence, Strength and Pride = Cold; Weakness and Humility = Slow.


In Physics, the vegetative (earthy) element par excellence, Knowledge and Pleasure = Heavy; Ignorance and Pain = Hard.


In Metaphysics, the airy element par excellence, Truth and Joy = Light; Illusion and Woe = Soft.


The Heat of Beauty and Love = Evil; the Fastness of Ugliness and Hatred = Crime.


The Coldness of Spirit and Pride = pseudo-Evil; the Slowness of Weakness and Humility = pseudo-Crime.


The Heaviness of Knowledge and Pleasure = pseudo-Grace; the Hardness of Ignorance and Pain = pseudo-Wisdom.


The Lightness of Truth and Joy = Grace; the Softness of Illusion and Woe = Wisdom.


* * * *


Abstract art and pornography share in common the appropriation of painting and sex by the abstract gender to the male side of life, whether in terms of ego (neutronic molecular wavicles) or soul (photonic elemental wavicles).


Appropriations of sex and/or females to pornographic abstractions notwithstanding, one should distinguish the relative from the absolute in this context, since one could argue that whereas the relative is properly pornographic, involving sexual activity between two or more persons, the absolute, focusing attention upon only one person (with or without non-sexual assistance) is, rather, erotica, which is therefore more noumenal (pseudo-metachemical?) than phenomenal (pseudo-chemical?), dominated not by a physical mode of abstraction but by a metaphysical mode.


They say that pornography exploits women, but pornography would hardly exist if women, or females, were not freely somatic and able to ‘strut their stuff’.  It is a reflection, albeit sublimated, of their freedom and hegemonic power/glory.


* * * *


All the old religions lie – as a matter of science-serving, politics-serving, or economics-serving principle, which is why all the old religions are unequally false from a properly religious – i.e. metaphysical - standpoint.


I was wrong, in the past, about Eastern Orthodoxy – it is nearer the truth of heavenly soul than Roman Catholicism, and is therefore a higher form of religion ... relative to Christianity.


Catholicism is too obsessed by sin to be capable of inspiring heavenly joy, and usually revolves around the expectation and forgiveness of sin.


Even its emphasis on sin is delusional, since it manifestly fails to address the female equivalent – pseudo-crime, which appertains to the bound psyche not of pseudo-physics (sin) but of chemistry.


One can forgive the Church for overlooking the corollary of sin in folly only because the latter, being freely somatic, is a state-subordinate equivalence – which can only be irrelevant from a bound-psychic, and therefore church-hegemonic, mass point of view.


False religion revolves around the concept ‘God’; religion that is to any extent true, or genuine, will emphasize Heaven, of which God, or godliness, is a mere superconscious extrapolation bearing effulgent witness, halo-like, to soulful joy.


Supreme Being, which is a condition of metaphysical soul, has reference to Heaven, not to God.


Godliness, which is the nearest metaphysical postulate to ego, is that which takes cognizance of the supreme beingfulness of soulful joy, i.e. the condition of Heaven.


Heaven is not only beyond God; it precedes godliness as that which is at the heart (core) of metaphysics.


Heaven is the joyful condition of metaphysical soul to which the truth of godliness bears superconscious witness from the standpoint of a superhuman order of ‘bovaryized’ ego which, being ‘once-bovaryized’, is less super-egocentric than super-egoistic.


The pseudo-superconscious, which is pseudo-metaphysical, is often confounded by gender reductionists with the subconscious.  In reality, it is as far removed from the subconscious as pseudo-illusion and pseudo-woe from ugliness and hate, which of course appertain to the subconscious metachemically.


Every time they open their mouths to speak about God, they lie; priests lie through their teeth.


Idolatry is the mainstay of the Church; without idols it would be unable to exist.


Christ said something to the effect that one – meaning male followers – must abandon wife, daughter, sister, mother – in short, family – to follow him.  That is the way of the Cross or, at any rate, of a religious vocation through Christ, and it tends to lead to the individualism of Calvary.


To be rid of priests, bibles, hymnals, etc., it will be necessary to vote for Social Theocracy or, rather, for religious sovereignty through Social Theocracy, so that, in the event of a majority mandate, the Social Theocrats can set about removing Creator-based obstacles to evolutionary progress, including the Church itself.


Social Theocracy must be determined to set up the ‘Church’, i.e. the Centre, to end all churches.  It will not be, in the Protestant manner, just another church, but the start of something entirely new, as germane to ‘Kingdom Come’, wherein the People will be rid of priests because religiously sovereign.


The Church is morally bankrupt; it panders to the world, including the world’s microcosm – the family.  Families can have no place in ‘Kingdom Come’.


Every family is a repudiation of Christ and testament to the worldly success of females.


Only the male has a right, in pseudo-physics, to cultivate faith in the possibility of deliverance, via some kind of messianic intervention, from his lowly predicament as an affiliated subordinate to the chemical hegemony of feminine females (the successful counterparts of superfeminine females).


A Saviour is one who delivers the pseudo-masculine male, or pseudo-male, from pseudo-physics to metaphysics on the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis stretching from southwest to northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass.  He thus restores them, albeit on an upgraded or transfigured basis, to male gender sync, in which psyche is free to preponderate and prevail over bound soma in the absolute ratio of 3:1.


A pseudo-masculine male with a relative, or 2½:1½, ratio of bound psyche to free soma under feminine female hegemonic pressure in chemistry over pseudo-physics is not only more bound than free; he is the victim of an upended gender predicament that keeps him at loggerheads with his inherent predilection for free psyche and bound soma.


Free soma and bound psyche is natural to the female, but not to the male who, in the event of subordination to a female hegemony, becomes pseudo-male, whether in pseudo-supermasculine pseudo-metaphysics or, down from the noumenal to the phenomenal planes, in pseudo-masculine pseudo-physics, from which position there is no way back to metaphysical gender sync except via messianic intervention.


Females have no interest in otherworldly deliverance for the simple reason that they achieve their goal in maternal resolution, which is chemically worldly, i.e. of the world from a purgatorial (as opposed, like pseudo-physics, to a pseudo-earthly) standpoint.  The achievement of a surrogate plenum through the child is what delivers them from the netherworldly want of such a plenum in metachemical vacuity.


Delivered from the vacuum of metachemistry to the surrogate plenum of maternal resolution in chemistry, the female is fulfilled, and can have no further natural ambitions … bar the possibility of additional children.


* * * *


The alacrity with which most rock musicians subscribe to ‘love’, that exemplification of metachemical spirit, would suggest a Creator-oriented disposition not merely out of touch … but completely at variance with true religion.


Bono sings about there being no line on (his) horizon, but there is on mine: one between metaphysics (male) and pseudo-metachemistry (pseudo-female).


* * * *


If we speak of the ‘super-ego’, let us remember that it is a ‘bovaryized’ order of ego equivalent to superconscious mind that, being metaphysical, is superconsciously aware of the supersensibility (joy) of metaphysical soul – the Soul per se.


We should not forget that ‘bovaryized’ ego (super-ego) only exists compliments of the Soul, which engenders it as candle-flame engenders the light which bears witness to it.  Translated from psychology into theology, as from theory into practice, this means that God, or godliness, only exists compliments of Heaven, since it is Heaven that precedes God, as Joy precedes Truth, which is the evidence of Joy.


No-one is godly all the time, least of all on a permanent basis commensurate with a divine status.  God as a ‘thingful’ entity is a falsehood germane to ‘bovaryized’ religions, whether scientific (fundamentalist), political (pantheist), or economic (humanist), as though dominated, in metachemical, chemical, or physical vein, by fire, water, or earth (vegetation), or, indeed, by a combination, to different extents, of all three.


I am neither Catholic nor Protestant, but a self-proclaimed Social Theocrat, who is beyond Christianity and other so-called ‘world religions’ in his ideological commitment primarily to metaphysics and secondarily to pseudo-metachemistry, through the concept and, hopefully, development of religious sovereignty to a Social Transcendentalist end.


Being a kind of messianic advocate of religious sovereignty through Social Theocracy does not make me ‘God’, that ‘thingful’ falsehood, but simply a kind of intellectual and/or ideological ‘godfather’ of Social Theocracy.


For me, Social Theocracy, which aims to bring the religious praxis of Social Transcendentalism to the masses, is the true – as opposed to false, or Social Democratic – Centrism (I nearly said ‘Communism’, but that is the false legacy of a previous title) – the Centrism that would ‘overcome man’ in the interests of his deliverance to ‘Kingdom Come’.


* * * *


All of my philosophy has been conceived against a background or backdrop of indifference if not open hostility from the ‘English’, especially from neighbours, including women and children, who seem to have an abhorrence of intellectualism, culture, independence of mind, and other male ‘higher values’.  If I have succeeded in my endeavours, it is not because of them but, rather, in spite of them!


I think my long-standing abhorrence of women and their anti-intellectualism derives, in large part, from my mother, whose aggressive vulgarity and stupidity of mind has always shocked and appalled me.


I have rarely or never had the privilege of living anywhere pleasant, away from the prying minds of cynical and shallow neighbours.  Christ’s injunction to ‘love thy neighbour’ seems to me an outrageous irrelevance to what experience teaches one about people and their constant attempts both to undermine and humiliate one.


If I go through life without any friends, it is because I find the concept of friendship too remote and unattractive in a world or milieu in which people are usually bugbears to be avoided.


The sooner ‘man is (cyborgistically) overcome’, the better it will be for life, or what remains of it, on this planet.  But the battle to ‘overcome man’ is also a struggle against women and their worldly ambitions.


* * * *


The worst offenders against religion are those who make a show of worshipping the ‘Creator’, the ‘Almighty’, the ‘One who is Great’, and other such variations on a love of power deriving from the free will of ‘Devil the Mother’ hyped as ‘God the Father’.  All such concepts of God are false, because rooted in power and the beautiful ‘thingfulness’ which is its wilful corollary.


Fundamentalists, pantheists, and humanists are all enemies of religion, which is transcendentalist, that is, neither metachemical, chemical, nor physical, but metaphysical.


The worst enemies of ‘the people’ are, in my experience, the people themselves, who are always looking over their shoulders to make sure no-one is stealing a march on them or attempting to do or achieve something that they wouldn’t or, more to the point, couldn’t.


Whenever I hear the word ‘God’ … used in conjunction with an entity separate from Heaven … I reach for my metaphorical revolver and metaphorically shoot it down.


* * * *


It doesn’t surprise me that just as, in metachemistry, beauty precedes love (and ugliness hate), so, in physics, knowledge precedes pleasure (and ignorance pain), physics over pseudo-chemistry being polar to metachemistry over pseudo-metaphysics on the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate axis stretching from northwest to southeast points of the intercardinal axial compass.


Likewise, it doesn’t surprise me that just as, in metaphysics, joy precedes truth (and woe illusion), so, in chemistry, pride precedes strength (and humility weakness), chemistry over pseudo-physics being polar to metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry on the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis stretching from southwest to northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass.


Therefore while will and ego are the respective fulcra of metachemistry and physics, spirit and soul are the respective fulcra of chemistry and metaphysics, the former attributes corresponding to power and form, the later ones to glory and contentment.


* * * *


Anybody who regularly attends church must be either a half-wit or a complete idiot!


‘Holy Mother of God’ – Give me a break!  Mothers are far more likely to be Clear; and as for ‘Mother of God’ …?  Since when does the ‘Son of God’ (sic) get to be God?


Anyway, I have said time and again that Christ is the Son of Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father and therefore hardly a ‘Son of God’, even if one could believe – as I can’t – in a God that had a Son.


‘Holy Water’ – Give me a break! Water is either Clear or Unclear, like females.


‘The Second Coming’ of Christ – Give me a break!  Do we need more cart before or, rather, to the exclusion of the relevant horse (of ‘God the Father’) because of the Dragon hyped as Horse in back, metachemically, of anything metaphysical.  I doubt it.  One worldly extrapolation from a netherworldly anchor – Western civilization being nothing more than an extrapolation from the Judaic Middle East – is quite enough!


Christianity is far too prone to superstition and paradoxical idolatry to be worthy of taking seriously.  How many sensible people really do?


* * * *


Football: anybody who is prepared to use their head as a muscular weapon to head the ball with isn’t going to be – or have – much of a brain.  Heading is probably the thing I most dislike about football – apart, that is, from the want of a point between two uprights over the bar (ample testimony to a total want of religiosity and/or idealism).


Football isn’t even a ‘beautiful game’, contrary to the populist notion.  Rugby Union would more qualify for that, but, then, so what?


I can’t understand how a Catholic can play football – that quintessentially Protestant (puritan) sport.


* * * *


Have I realized my potential? – Yes, abundantly.  I am one of the greatest philosophers of all time.


My literary heroes: Baudelaire, Aldous Huxley, Friedrich Nietzsche, James Joyce, Henry Miller, W.B. Yeats, Arthur Schopenhauer, Lawrence Durrell, John Cowper Powys, Jean-Paul Sartre, Hermann Hesse, Albert Camus, to name but a few.


Oh, for a Kaufmann, to do a Nietzsche on me!


My musical heroes: Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, John McLaughlin, Keith Emerson, Jon Lord, Dave Greenslade, Glenn Hughes, Rick Wakeman, John Mayall, Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Alice Cooper, Ozzy Osbourne, Jean-Michel Jarre, Steve Morse, Michael Schenker ...


Groups (bands) I particularly admire: The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Yes, King Crimson, Deep Purple, MSG (Michael Schenker Group), ELP (Emerson, Lake, and Palmer), The Allman Brothers, The Grateful Dead, Black Label Society, Metallica, Spiritual Beggars, Arch Enemy, Iron Maiden, Motorhead, Focus, Black Sabbath, The Pretenders, Tangerine Dream, Soft Machine, CSYN (Crosby Stills Nash & Young, or variants thereof).


* * * *


I used to think of the term ‘evaluation’ in relation to chemistry and ‘revaluation’ in relation to physics, but these days I incline to the view that chemistry is the ‘revaluated’ element by dint of the fact that, being spiritual, pride precedes strength, or Spirit a ‘once-bovaryized’ order of Will.  In physics, by contrast, knowledge precedes pleasure, as Ego preceding a ‘once-bovaryized’ order of Soul.


Hence chemistry, hegemonic over pseudo-physics, is the ‘revaluated’ precondition, on axial terms, of the metaphysical precedence of truth by joy in what, unequivocally hegemonic over pseudo-metachemistry, is a ‘transvaluated’ element.  Something like Christ walking on the water would be an apt metaphor for the ‘revaluated’ precondition, ‘Mother Church’-like, of an airy metaphysical ‘transvaluation’ … along the lines of Heaven preceding God (or godliness).


The state-hegemonic/church-subordinate axis, by contrast, would seem to pitch the ‘devaluating’ element of metachemistry, unequivocally hegemonic over pseudo-metaphysics, in which beauty precedes love, as Will preceding a ‘once-bovaryized’ order of Spirit, against the ‘evaluations’ of physics, equivocally hegemonic over pseudo-chemistry, in which, as noted above, knowledge precedes pleasure.


Hence the parallelism of beauty preceding love in metachemistry with knowledge preceding pleasure in physics, or Will preceding ‘Spirit’ with Ego preceding ‘Soul’, where the dominating elements of the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate axis are concerned, should be contrasted with the parallelism of pride preceding strength in chemistry with joy preceding truth in metaphysics, or Spirit preceding ‘Will’ with Soul preceding ‘Ego’, where the dominating elements of the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis are concerned – a contrast between an axis hegemonically characterized by ‘devaluating’ and ‘evaluating’ and, by contrast, one hegemonically characterized by ‘revaluating’ and ‘transvaluating’, ‘devaluating’ no less the axial precondition of ‘evaluating’ than ‘revaluating’ is the axial precondition of ‘transvaluating’. 


Christ walking upon the water (of chemical ‘revaluation’) in order to aspire towards the heavenly air (of metaphysical ‘transvaluation’) upon what is a church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis stretching from the southwest to the northeast points of the intercardinal axial compass is, I have to say, a credible metaphor for the paradoxical utilization of ‘revaluating’ as a springboard to ‘transvaluating’, and hence to world-transcendence.


Incidentally, ‘revaluations’ exist as such in relation to ‘devaluations’, since the maternal resolution of beauty preceding love in metachemistry is pride preceding strength in chemistry.  For the male, on the other hand, the rejection of ‘evaluations’ (corresponding to the ‘forbidden tree of knowledge’, with its ego fulcrum) in favour of pseudo-physical ‘pseudo-evaluations’ under chemical ‘revaluations’ … makes for the possibility, through salvation, of metaphysical ‘transvaluations’ unequivocally hegemonic over what could, with pseudo-metachemistry, be termed ‘pseudo-devaluations’.


In other words, a Saint George and a neutralized dragon-like scenario which is akin to the prone Virgin at the foot of the so-called ‘True Cross’ upon which Christ is raised up, with upstretched arms, in what would seem to be a Y-chromosomal intimation – the Yo-factor, so to speak, of metaphysical blessedness in otherworldly aloofness from the ‘world’.


* * * *


The objectively moral (metachemical) hegemony of evil and crime over the pseudo-subjective pseudo-unmoral (pseudo-metaphysical) subordination of pseudo-folly and pseudo-sin is a contrast, at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, between Vanity and pseudo-Meekness.


The objectively pseudo-moral (chemical) hegemony of pseudo-evil and pseudo-crime over the pseudo-subjectively unmoral (pseudo-physical) subordination of folly and sin is a contrast, at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, between pseudo-Vanity and Meekness.


The subjectively pseudo-moral (physical) hegemony of pseudo-grace and pseudo-wisdom over the pseudo-objectively unmoral (pseudo-chemical) subordination of punishment and goodness is a contrast, at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, between pseudo-Righteousness and Justice.


The subjectively moral (metaphysical) hegemony of grace and wisdom over the pseudo-objectively pseudo-unmoral (pseudo-metachemical) subordination of pseudo-punishment and pseudo-goodness is a contrast, at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, between Righteousness and pseudo-Justice.


Amorality (coming down from above) and immorality (rising up from below), whether genuine or pseudo, are exceptions to the general rule … of the contrast between morality of one kind or another and its corresponding gender-subordinate unmoral compliment.


Amorality, like morality, is genuine in the noumenal (ethereal) contexts and pseudo in the phenomenal (corporeal) ones, whereas immorality, by contrast, is pseudo in the noumenal contexts and genuine in the phenomenal ones, where it rises from either pseudo-physics or pseudo-chemistry, meekness or justice, but always in consequence, as elsewhere, of amoral or, more correctly in this context, pseudo-amoral pressure from above, i.e., the equivocally hegemonic elements of chemistry in the one case and physics in the other.


Speaking in general terms, amorality should be avoided by the hegemonically moral, since it leads to an immoral backlash from the pressurized unmoral, and that is – and ever will be – bad for morality … of whatever type.


* * * *


Things I have never done:-

     Bought ‘The Sun’, ‘The Mirror’, ‘The Daily Star’;

     The Lottery;

     Had sex;

     Watched ‘Coronation Street’;

     Played ‘Bingo’;

     Slept with another person;

     Watched ‘The X-Factor’;

     Been to the States, Australia, Canada, New Zealand;

     Eaten in a fancy restaurant;

     Picked up a woman;

     Bought a house, flat, car, motorbike;

     Voted in a British General Election (other than 1974 – Thorpe, Liberals);

     Driven and/or owned a car, van, lorry;

     Ridden and/or owned a motorbike, scooter, moped, horse, pony;

     Spoken to next-door neighbours;

     Owned a pet;

     Been married;

     Gone fishing, skiing, shooting, sailing, hunting;

     Played golf, rugby, hockey, hurling, Gaelic football, poker, bridge, squash;

     Flown a plane, chopper, glider;


     Danced in public, i.e. at a dancehall, ballroom, disco, party;

     Been on a package holiday;

     Booked myself into a hotel;

     Warn a cravat, bow tie, bowler hat, top hat, pair of high-heeled boots, jackboots, an earring, a jockstrap;

     Climbed a mountain, cliff, high wall, tall tree.


* * * *


For economics to be in the least bit godly, it would have to be supercapitalist, which is to say, would need to correspond to the super-ego as a superconscious recognition of and testimony to the superfeeling or supersensibility of metaphysical soul, which, as noted before, is a condition of joy corresponding to Being per se.


Hence economics is only godly in the truthful service of Heaven, the joyful condition of metaphysical soul, and will accordingly be the supercapitalist servant of true religion – what, with Social Theocracy in mind, should be termed super-religion.


Capitalism, as such, which is physical and egoistic if not egocentric in its formal selfishness, is not – and never could be – godly, i.e., behaving in a manner which is solely concerned with the wellbeing of metaphysical soul as that which, centred in true being, epitomizes Heaven.


The notion of capitalism as God, like man as God, is if not a lie then, at best, a half-truth corresponding to knowledge.  And half-truths, unlike half-lies, are axially engaged in what could be termed a Faustian pact with the Lie, the whole lie, in other words, of Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father in metachemistry, whose somatic licence, vacuously rooted in free will, is ever at variance with the psychic beingfulness of true soul.


The thing about half-truths is that they are the same way around as the Lie – knowledge preceding pleasure in physics as beauty precedes love in metachemistry, and therefore cannot become the axial precondition, as with the pride preceding strength of chemistry, of Truth or, rather, of the precedence of truth by joy in metaphysics, which is salvation not for the chemical but the pseudo-physical and their meek pseudo-ignorance preceding pseudo-pain, which is sin.


Nevertheless, metaphysics would still exist, and therefore Truth, even if there were no chemistry or, for that matter, pseudo-physics.  For metaphysics is not of the world or in any way dependent upon the world which, in chemistry/pseudo-physics, is a consequence of metachemical ambitions, that is, of the capacity of metachemical females to seduce males from metaphysics to pseudo-metaphysics (via antimetaphysics), where, as admirers of Beauty and participators in female Love, they are groomed for a worldly (pseudo-earthly) fall into pseudo-physics in relation to the worldly (purgatorial) resolution of the female in the surrogate plenum of maternity afforded her by the achievement of a chemical escape from the metachemical dilemma of wilful vacuity – her original adult condition.


In sum, the ‘fall of man’ (from metaphysics) is consequent upon the rise, paradoxically, of woman … out of the beautiful girl, who is the equivalent of Devil the Mother.


Females have free will and spirit in abundance, but males should resist the temptation to emulate them and instead concentrate on being loyal to themselves, whether in relation to ego or, more from a metaphysical standpoint, to soul, thereby achieving the transcendence of form in contentment.


Obsessed with power and glory, as germane to the female side of the gender fence, one is not even a sonofabitch but, what’s worse, a quasi-bitch of one sort or another.


For the same reason as the above, it is better to build supernations than nations, to form geographically-related federations of nation states into a unified whole that has the long-term capacity for supra-national transformation along the lines of a universal church.


* * * *


The main difference between The Beatles and the Rolling Stones is that whereas the former were a working-class band from Liverpool, the latter were – and still are – classless, closer to Eternity and, in a certain non-sequential sense, virtually timeless, as their blues-based music amply attests.


If anyone could be called ‘the Beethoven of the electric guitar’, it would surely have to be Jeff Beck, whose awesome range of tone and timbre is simply monumental.


Bono is the archetype sonofabitch romantic rock-singer – he makes me cringe.


The only antidote to a hard rock romantic fool like Coverdale is a heavy metal self-obsessed sinner like Dickenson.


I have only ever really admired one Irish band – Thin Lizzy.  And they weren’t that Irish.


I bought the first two Taste albums as a schoolboy in Carshalton, and have always quite admired Rory Gallagher as a blues guitarist.  The grossly overblown endings to some of his later live stuff doesn’t do him much credit, however, since he comes across as a kind of obstinate moron and fairly sophisticated fool.


U2 – don’t you just love to hate them?


The Doors were always my favourite American band – the great poet intellectual Jim Morrison, shades of Poe greatness.

I hate to love Glenn Hughes, but I do.  He is simply soulfully fantastic, despite his cynical attitude to religion.


Metallica are a truly electrifying band – simply awesome!


I’ve always had a soft spot for Black Label Society, probably because of Zakk Wylde having been Ozzy Osbourne’s guitarist.  Similarly I only really turned on to Metallica after they employed one of Ozzy’s ex-bassists, Robert Trujillo.  As they say, one thing leads to another.


Steve Morse is in many respects the Keith Emerson of the guitar.  Simply brilliant, with an ability to make brilliance appear simple, even when his music is awesomely complex, as, incidentally, it usually is.


Despite his sloppy sentimentalism and worldly ‘straightness’, Chris de Burgh remains a consummate professional capable of holding his own with any sized audience.  Nevertheless, I must confess that his songs – and falsetto deliveries – often make me cringe.


‘Union’ by the rock band Yes – one of those albums of which the percussion is more of a noise than a groove, with the music generally too disjointed to be particularly pleasant; in fact, quite often manifestly discordant and disruptive. Lyrically, the usual admixture of romanticism and sun-oriented superheathenism that smacks, in its affiliation with ‘squares’, of moral superficiality, especially when delivered with quasi-bitch-like vocal histrionics.


If one ever needed proof of the philistinism of rock ‘n’ roll, it is in the bitch-slavering heathenism of its lyrical content rather than, as with guitar-smashing antics at the end of a gig, in the quasi-barbarism of a quasi-bitch departure from the usual sonofabitch attributes alluded to above, not least in respect of the ubiquitous presence of a vocal delivery in the first place.


A dancing male should be as unusual, in gender terms, as a grooving female.  Normally, males groove and females dance – a dichotomy, after all, between head and body, psyche and soma, time and pseudo-space.


* * * *


The Nazi salute, with outstretched arm and open hand, in some instances, or with certain bona fide practitioners (like Hitler), suggests a southwest-to-northeast axial orientation commensurate, no matter how imperfectly when rooted, socialistically, in the masses, with church-hegemonic/state-subordinate criteria, in contrast to the southeast-to-northwest axial orientation of the conventional military salute which, with its right hand-to-brow from a bent arm, is far more suggestive of state-hegemonic/church-subordinate criteria, in WASPish vein.  And yet, one would hesitate to describe National Socialism as church-hegemonic, given the political implications of the Third Reich.


I used to believe that Social Theocracy would be akin, in some sense, to the resurrection of National Socialism – a resurrection that necessarily corrects the deficiencies of National Socialism in that it would be axially far removed from it, even polar, in its insistence on a classless society that was non-Marxist in character and centred, transcendentally, in religious truth.  But this is something that National Socialism never was nor ever could be, given its origins in the baleful consequences of the First World War and the Treaty of Versailles, making for a militant retort and urge, ultimately, towards European domination through militarism.  Nowadays I simply see National Socialism as the alpha of global civilization (necessarily barbarous) and Social Theocracy as its coming omega.  Time alone will tell.


The Star is always symbolic of soma – a female emblem characteristic, whether relative (moderate) or absolute (extreme), phenomenal or noumenal, corporeal or ethereal, of the Left.


The Cross is always symbolic of psyche – a male emblem characteristic, whether relative (moderate) or absolute (extreme), phenomenal or noumenal, corporeal or ethereal, of the Right.


Hence a distinction between body and mind, socialism and capitalism, concrete and abstract, figurative and non-figurative, heathenism and Christianity, objectivity and subjectivity, particles and wavicles, collectivism and individualism, politics and economics, science and religion, war and peace, female and male.


* * * *


Beauty is evil because objectively wilful.


Love comes and goes, but beauty persists.


That which is in flux is free – whether beautifully, strongly, knowledgeably, or truthfully.


Conversely, whatever is not in flux (static) is bound, whether ugly, weak, ignorant, or illusory.


* * * *


The Swastika – a kind of absolute cross, or supercross, though arguably a pseudo-supercross if contiguously encircled.


Metaphysical Extreme Right + pseudo-metachemical Extreme pseudo-Left = noumenal centrism, or centrism on a noumenal basis.


The Centre is never ‘ringful’, ever ‘badgeful’, or centripetal.


I could never wear a ring, neither earring nor finger-ring, since I am not sonofabitch enough.  Can’t imagine myself placing a ring on anybody’s finger, either.


* * * *


Other people change address.  I change the configuration of things in my room.


Actually, I hate the room I live in, not to mention the house, which is small and noisy, with heavy cantilevered doors.  I’ve always lived in cheap lodgings, never owned a property, not even so much as a flat, and probably never will.


My current abode, which I’ve lived in since 1991, is actually my thirteenth or fourteenth address overall.  All crap!


* * * *


My great musical no-nos:-

     Sting – hate the name, so silly (Zappa once called him ‘Mr Sting’);

     The Police – way to straight a band name for me;

     Bono – plain daft;

     The Edge – likewise;

     The The – the what?!;

     Pink Floyd – not one of my favourite colours, whereas ‘Floyd’ was the name of a Baptist minister in the church I attended whilst living in a Children’s Home in Carshalton Beeches, Surrey;

     Adam Ant – Adam what?!;

     Michael Jackson – The epitome of cultural superficiality and gender unmanliness – a singer and a dancer in one!;

     Gary Glitter – is that his real name? Actually, it’s Paul Gadd, isn’t it? Which reminds me of another thing I dislike: people who use false names to get ahead and become famous, including Elton John (real or, rather, birth name: Reginald Dwight), Bob Dylan (real name: Robert Zimmerman), Boy George (real name: George O’Dowd), David Bowie (real name: David Jones) … Strangely enough, I make one exception: Alice Cooper (real name: Vincent Furnier), whose music (and albums) I have always liked, even collected.  But any exception proves the rule!  Which is just as true of John Michael Osbourne, aka  ‘Ozzy’ Osbourne, who at least uses his actual surname.


* * * *


The world is a grim, dreadful place full of pain and suffering.  Anyone who didn’t want to get out of it to a ‘better world’, otherworldly in character, would have to be mad or simple or, failing that, just plain female.


What is sex? Sex is gender, and gender implies coitus – intercourse between female and male for both pleasure and reproduction or, more basically and accurately, for reproduction motivated by pleasure.  Of course, you could do it only for pleasure, but I fancy that, unless one is a complete pr**k, the pleasure will fade after awhile, causing one to lose interest in the apparent futility of mere sex and/or to seek alternative partners or attitudes in order to spice it up a bit or rekindle the dying flame.  And that, I fancy, would only compound the futility, making one even more disillusioned with sex and increasingly prone to … either self-abuse or other-abuse – something that usually has an element of self-abuse in it, in any case.  But what could be worse?  For self-abuse and other-abuse is not sex but sexual deviance, not least in respect of masturbation, oral, buggery, sodomy, pederasty, paedophilia, etc.  Retreat from the reproductive essence of sex and you retreat from sex … further and further into either self-abuse or other-abuse, with predictably vicious consequences.


The world was once sane, now it’s mad.  Soon it will be given the coup de grace in order to be replaced by a supersane world – otherworldly in its freedom (extreme right-wing) and pseudo-netherworldly in its binding (extreme pseudo-left).  That will be the new and ultimate centre.


The trouble with male contraception (rubber condoms) is that once you start using it, it doesn’t make much difference which hole you put your penis into …


So-called homosexuality has always revolted me (theoretically, though I am not against homosexuals per se, least of all in relation to those androgynous or hermaphrodite persons who are female-looking in all but the penis and are likely to attract sexual attention from certain males), as do other forms of other-abuse. The worst I have ever done – and that several decades ago – was to indulge in a degree of masturbatory self-abuse … rather infrequently and usually in conjunction with some kind of female erotica from a so-called men’s magazine.  But it bored and humiliated me, and I soon lost interest in it; though not in female erotica, which still gives me a degree of pleasure, confirming the appropriation of sex to the male (abstract) side of the gender fence in relation to a metaphysical bent.


* * * *


I have spent most of my life in exile from my native country (Eire) and in déclassé circumstances, or what some might regard as such, since I am anything but au fait with the working classes or regular proletariat.  But I am not bourgeois or aristocratic – rather I’m a kind of cultural bohemian and classless philosopher, an intellectual outsider, a cross between genius and saint.  Not surprisingly, I am – and always have been – alone, living by myself in cheap lodgings that, frankly, one wouldn’t invite even a slut back to, never mind a female with any degree of cultivation or discrimination.  Besides, you couldn’t ‘make love’ to anybody in a place where the thin walls always have ears and often tongues and eyes as well!  As for the creaking floor and cracked ceiling …


Being a virgin at fifty-seven, you could say my messianic integrity is still intact!  All that remains now is for me to … I nearly wrote ‘bring about Kingdom Come’, but, these days, I’m far less ambitious.  The possibility of a Social Theocratic revolution would be enough to be getting on with … if one could convince enough people that they would be better off with religious sovereignty.  But I am only a convincer, potentially, on paper; I don’t believe in the efficacy of soapboxes, or in my own deferential capacity to deliver to the masses, least of all with an English accent in Ireland.


The British are the least religious of people, a people obsessed by football, who are not ashamed to use their head as a kind of muscular weapon on the field.  As for points over the bar (crossbar) – forget it; there aren’t any.


They (the British) are not the ‘ears for my mouth’, to paraphrase Nietzsche.


* * * *


I once wrote that I didn’t believe in ‘superfluous men’ (in Between Truth and Illusion, 1977).  Which is ironic, since I am the most superfluous of men, a man who, in his Galway birthplace, would be truly persona non grata where the paternal side of his ancestry was concerned, since the product of a misalliance that must have been one of the great flukes – and ironies – of nature.


I would rather dishonour myself than honour my father (a sonofabitch) and mother (a bitch), neither of whom were any good to me.  The one, I never saw; the other, got rid of me (children’s home) as soon as she could.  Were it not for my maternal grandmother, she would doubtless have put me into care sooner.  But even my grandmother left a lot to be desired, not least in terms of having to return to her old lodgings in Aldershot when her business venture in a Galway pub fell through.  Which is how I came to be brought up in England!


* * * *


All God is, it seems to me, is evidence of Heaven – the be-all-and-end-all of religion when it’s true, which is to say, true to metaphysical self – a uniquely classless male order of free psyche centred in soul.


I am not – and never have been – a means for any female to a worldly (purgatorial) end.  Therefore I do not relate to or identify with the pseudo-earthly, whose ‘meekness’ is in consequence of the pseudo-Vain, and has to do with being foolish and sinful or, in church-hegemonic/state-subordinate terms, sinful (bound psyche) and foolish (free soma), neither of which would be inherently male attributes.


These days I tend, more than ever, to the view that whereas females dream with their minds (subconscious and/or unconscious), males dream with their bodies (unsensuous and/or subsensuous), thereby reversing their respective waking-life gender norms.


Increasingly, I find it hard to believe in ‘the subconscious’ from a male standpoint.  Neither can I place much store in ‘the unconscious’.  Both, it seems to me, are fundamentally female that one may, if childhood dreams are anything to judge by, be more susceptible to as a child than as a male adult, for whom ‘the unsensuous’ and/or ‘the subsensuous’ should have more relevance as corollaries of ‘the conscious’ and ‘the superconscious’ respectively.


Superconscious = super-ego = supercapitalism = superman = godliness, the blossom of heavenly joy, which is supersensible.


There will never be another as intellectually thoroughgoing and comprehensively exacting as me.  I am, in logical and conceptual terms, the ultimate philosopher or, at any rate, philosophical thinker, all the more so as I’m self-taught and therefore not hampered by an English so-called ‘higher education’ – something I was always keen, in any case, to avoid.


* * * *


I had originally thought of calling this project ‘My Soul Laid Bare’ in deference to Baudelaire’s My Heart Laid Bare – something I’ve long regarded as one of the greatest posthumous publications in all literature, which I’ve often used, in the past, as a substitute for the Bible.


It is going to take us decades if not centuries to demolish the ‘God crap’ that remains an obstacle to true religion.


In true religion you don’t pray to God.  Nor do you anthropomorphize or personify godliness, as Him, Christ, Supreme Being, The Almighty, The Creator, etc.  Godliness is the superconsciousness of Being, which is joy.  It’s a state of mind that is aware only of the soul’s joy when it is free to be true to itself in metaphysics, an exclusively male preserve.  Therefore praying to ‘God’ is proof that it’s not God that one is praying to but some falsehood appertaining to or deriving from ‘Devil the Mother’, the so-called Creator, hyped as God.


The sooner this and other such mystical and idolatrous superstitions are consigned to the rubbish bin of history … the better.  For only then will true religion (coupled, in the pseudo-metachemical, to pseudo-science) be universally possible.


* * * *


It is not whether what you write is right or wrong that really matters, but whether you were sincere in your convictions at the time of writing it.


My current – and hopefully definitive – concept of a supercross is of a Y-like entity whose upward tending arms should be slightly curvilinear and bulbously inward turning, as though symbolic, over and above Y-chromosomal intimations, of a loosely-clenched fist salute.  However, the inward-turning arms of this supercross should be precluded from giving a ‘ringful’ impression by the proximity, in between and coming off the vertical axis, of a substantial curvilinear element equivalent to its head and subject, if needs be, to an absolute cross design on its face, as though to preclude its appearing like a ring.  For the overall intent of this central form must be to maintain a ‘badgeful’ centripetal fulcrum that will preclude the upward and inward turning outer arms from either looking like horns or the curves of a ring.


The absolute cross in rectilinear form seems to me to be a Western, alpha-derived shortfall from global requirement, and can – red-cross exceptions to the rule notwithstanding – usually be identified with church-defensive movements having a fascist connotation. 


I am not saying that the curvilinear supercross is left wing or anything or the kind.  It’s simply a more advanced (global) manifestation of extreme right-wing criteria premised upon noumenal subjectivity, and would be meaningless without due reference to an extreme pseudo-left-wing pseudo-superstar (or contiguously encircled absolute star), above which it would stand like metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry or our proverbial Saint George over a neutralized dragon, the ‘dragon-lion’ that is perforce obliged to ‘lie down’ with the ‘saint-lamb’ because, having been defeated, it has no choice.


In a word, an inescapable combination, as noted before, of global extreme right-wing and extreme pseudo-left-wing elements constitutive, when served from an administrative aside, of noumenal centrism.


Did I say in an earlier text (The Centre of Truth, 2009) that Social Theocracy was, in relation to Social Democracy, the ‘true communism’?  Forgive me.  It is neither fascist nor communist, absolute cross nor absolute star, but, as noted above, noumenally centrist, and therefore beyond such mutually-exclusive ideological positions, being a combination of noumenally subjective and pseudo-objective elements compatible with gender differentiation, a differentiation that should be served, with due diligence, from an administrative aside to the ‘centre proper’, an aside that, while favouring the metaphysical, will never ignore or underestimate the significance of the pseudo-metachemical in the viability of the overall structure.


* * * *


Computing, or using a computer (I have a laptop), is, I feel sure, a species of masochism.  They seem designed to torment one, especially those connected to the Internet.


How much time is wasted – not saved – in front of a computer!  There was a time when life seemed to be a bit simpler and more straightforward.


My experience of computers has not been good.


I ignore most of my email because I get so much of it that if I were to read it all, I would have little or no time for anything else, not least my literary work.  Hence the futility of emails for business or commercial promotions.  For if I’m anything like others, few emails get taken any notice of anyway.


Programs have a habit of not responding.  Isn’t that typical?  I suppose the fact that I bought a ‘down market’ laptop has something to do with it; though I doubt whether a more expensive one would have been much better.  After awhile, they all let one down (this is my fourth).  They run at a certain speed, etc., until you load too many programs and/or files for the original specifications to be able to handle things adequately.


Every day my peace of mind is grossly undermined by computing.  One cannot be happy for long in front of a computer.  They’re almost guaranteed to turn one into a nervous wreck!


This dongle thing is the sickest joke yet!  Not only purgatorially slow, but ineffectual, to boot!  You couldn’t depend on a dongle for business.


Computers don’t save work – they considerably increase it.  Neither, of course, do they save time.


In Ireland, I saw and used computers with a vertical screen, as though designed for people who play hurling or Gaelic football.  I only wish I had seen such in England, but – alas! – only the usual horizontally-biased (elongated) screens, as on laptops, as though intended for lovers of association football.  Sickening!  Doubtless a contributory factor in my lukewarm if not hostile attitude to computers.


I have noticed my current computer getting slower and slower and more and more ineffectual.  Is it time I bought another one?  Do I wish to repeat the same mistake, rather like a man who divorces one woman only to marry another?  Has he learnt anything?  Have I?  Time will tell, though there is always the option of buying one of those programs that rectify what causes a computer to slow down or malfunction – another of those all-too-many ancillary purchases that computers and, more especially, the Internet encourage.


Firefox is too cumbersome – it takes a long time to start and is too fond of updates and upgrades for my liking.  If this is the best browser on the Internet …?


Kaspersky have not done themselves any favours with the difficulty of activating their ‘Internet Security 2010’ product which constantly returns an ‘Invalid SS-L certificate’ and has caused me hours of mental torment.  Really, I don’t think I could renew this product ever again, given the difficulties of installing it in the first place!


I really regret having bought a Belkin product some years ago which I have rarely used and didn’t think very much of at the time.  But this firm has a way of popping up with a pitch page on one’s computer when one least expects it, usurping one’s selected page with an effrontery that beggars belief.  I find this not only offensive but underhand and disreputable.  I would never buy another of their products, least of all one designed to exchange files between two or more computers – something that can be done perfectly well with an ftp program like ‘Core’ on each computer and a mutual directory from one principal internet host.


The worst people on the Internet, in my experience, are those who pull the plug or fold or give one the boot without giving any explanation or apology.  Here one day, gone the next!  In consequence of which one’s work, files, etc., are lost for ever, kind of disappearing into the Ethernet.  Usually they are what I would call foreigners with, I guess, limited communication skills.


My internet-ridden computer has been a living hell – I want out!


I always place too many demands on my laptop, which is simply not able to cope with the number and length of my files, proceeding, if at all, at a snail’s pace.


My life goes downhill the moment I switch on the computer.


* * * *


Politicians in church amuse me.  What kind of leaders are they?


Anyone who was a true leader – not an elected politician – would set about the honourable task of giving the Church the coup de grace.  Of consigning bibles, hymnals, prayer books, and other related anachronisms to the rubbish bin of history, preferably through mass incineration.  Such, at any rate, would be the intention of Social Theocracy.


They say ‘pride comes before a fall’, but in the case of women ‘the fall’ ain’t so far – only into strength, which owes not a little to ‘mother’s pride’ (not the bread).


I never wrote for money.  Only for the pursuit of Truth … in the sense both of religious truth and how, in overall terms, things tended to add up – though, in the early days, this often took the paradoxical form of either fiction or poetry.


I pride myself on the fact that I’ve never written a play.  Nor have I ever been to the theatre and sat in front of one.  The worst I’ve ever done is written philosophical dialogues.


There are certain films one just can’t help but admire, and ‘Valkyrie’ (2008) is a case in point.  The acting is breathtaking, the suspense truly heroic, the sets astonishing, the cast  mesmerizing, and there is even place for a degree of ironic humour, as in the relationship – strained at the best of times – between Keitel and Fromm, played, I believe by Kenneth Cranham and Tom Wilkinson respectively.  An historical masterpiece!


As was ‘Conspiracy’, with the very excellent Kenneth Brannagh (also in the above) as Reinhard Heydrich, in the lead role.  Simply mesmerizing!


One day, certain people will have to sit around a table – preferably round - to discuss the fate of the Bible, together with correlative textural material, so that Europe can proceed to completely liberate itself from the last bastion of materialist/fundamentalist (metachemical) anachronistic irrelevance and climb towards the heavenly heights of a transcendentalist/idealist summit, fit culmination to an evolutionary destiny.


My own preferred solution has always been facility-centred incineration.  That way, the Bible and other such Creator-based material, giving virtual carte blanche to the ‘increase and multiply’ ethos of Devil the Mother,  with her beautiful free will, could be not merely consigned to the rubbish bin of history, but returned, so to speak, to its ‘Maker’ – something I’m sure John Cowper Powys would have understood and probably even approved of, in that he wasn’t so stupid as to believe that males precede females, as suggested by the Bible, wherein ‘God’ creates woman out of one of Adam’s ribs.  Really!  And this sort of stuff still officially obtains?!


Of course, once you start ridding society of the Bible, which is a necessary step in the liberation of the mind from illogical shackles and general nonsense more conducive, paradoxically, to the advantage of females than of males, you necessarily have to free it from priests as well, since their belief in ‘God’ is not compatible with the achievement of Heaven (or, correlatively, the pseudo-Devil for pseudo-metachemical females), which rather transcends mere idolatry.  But, of course, there are other religious anachronisms besides the so-called Christian that would also have to be addressed in a ‘God’-free universe.


* * * *


How a male can choose anything but heads, with the toss of a coin, I absolutely fail to understand.


I always felt that the ideal place to work was a foot or two from one’s bed.  Hence my literary vocation.


The idea of being a lapsed Catholic doesn’t sit easy with me.  I don’t think I could ever return to the Catholic fold even if I wasn’t a self-styled Social Theocrat, given the six or so years I spent, as a boy, in a Protestant Children’s Home, compliments of my mother, whose father had been a Donegal Presbyterian long before he converted, nominally, to Catholicism to marry the woman destined to become my maternal grandmother.


Some people are inclined to make an all-loving whore out of God (of Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father), whilst others prefer Him as an all-knowing self-righteous pr**k (they would say Christ, but it would actually be less ‘Son-of-Man’ than ‘Man-the-Father’ in free-psychic knowledge rather than bound-somatic ignorance).  Either way, they deceive themselves (or are deceived) and debase religion and, hence, God, who isn’t actually the main deal in metaphysics (the religious element par excellence), but a mere consequence (light-like) of soulful feeling (inner flame) and therefore anything but a free-standing ‘thing-in-itself’ susceptible, as with all false religion, to idolatrous worship.  Bah!  People are there to be ruled by the truly great, and thus delivered from error and superstition.  Left to themselves, they drag everything, including religion, down to the lowest-common-denominator.


I nearly said ‘led by the truly religious’, but then no-one (or very few) would follow, and enlightened people usually have enough insight to know that true enlightenment is not something that can be pedalled to the masses like a commercial product.  Frankly, you have to be akin to a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ to have any chance of meaningfully changing society for the better, i.e. less false and more true, less political and more religious (church-hegemonic axis), or less scientific and more economic (state-hegemonic axis).  Personally, I prefer more religion and less politics, coupled to more pseudo-science and less pseudo-economics.  Hence metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry.


I am happier with the term ‘godfather’ than with ‘God the Father’, simply because the latter is still tainted by ‘Creatorism’ (I use the term advisably) and, hence, Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father, the root Judaic source from which both Christianity and Islam derive their respective textural affiliations.


The term ‘God’ is immensely suspect, not least when used in connection with ‘all powerful’ or ‘almighty’ or ‘great’, and other such variations on a cosmos-derived fundamentalist or, more correctly, materialist theme.  Speaking metaphorically, I feel inclined, à la Henry Miller, to ‘reach for my revolver’ every time I hear it, i.e. ‘my God’, ‘good God!’, ‘God bless’, ‘God save’, etc.  Usually it’s anything but godliness (a consequence of Heaven) that is being cited, but some ‘thingful’ entity regarded as anterior to everything else.


Satan has no more to do with the diabolic than, say, Jehovah (as Creator-esque ‘First Mover’) with the divine.  That which is pseudo-metaphysical is pseudo-God (in both pseudo-Father and, to a much less gender representative extent, pseudo-Son, and it remains pseudo-godly so long as metachemical devilry continues to scientifically rule the so-called religious roost.  ‘Devil the Mother’ hyped as ‘God the Father’ remains the fundamental (though not fundamentalist) lie of false religion.  It co-exists (materialistically) with ‘Hell the Clear Spirit’, as Beauty with Love in metachemical free soma, and (fundamentalistically, so to speak) with ‘the Daughter of the Devil’ and ‘the Clear Soul of Hell’, as Ugliness with Hatred in metachemical bound psyche, both of which are considerably less prevalent (in metachemistry-proper) than Beauty and Love.


* * * *


We are all patients in the hospital of life.


It seems strange, when you are in a Children’s Home, to be told by one of the house-parents that your mother loves you, especially since she was the one who sent you there in the first place, doubtless to get one out of the way so that she could marry someone else and carry on as though nothing untoward had happened in the meantime.


I’m not pseudo-c**t or, more correctly, quasi-pseudo-c**t (pseudo-bitch) enough to ever write another novel.  I wrote my last one back in 1982, before I learnt better.  My last collection of short prose was back in 1984, when I was still capable of being a quasi-superc**t (pseudo-superbitch).  Most of the time since then I’ve been true to myself as a male – a kind of philosophical superpr**k.  Thank Heaven!


I admit to having been something of a poetic pseudo-pr**k (block verse, usually free) and even pseudo-superpr**k (lined stanzas, usually bound, or rhymed) back in my youth, but I was never a quasi-c**t or a quasi-superc**t (pseudo-bitch or pseudo-superbitch).  Drama, whether spiritual or wilful, verbal or mobile, has always been taboo with me – creatively speaking.


* * * *


A more abstract – and extreme – variant on the metaphysical/pseudo-metachemical tier structure of Social Theocratic Centrism could have more strictly chromosomal implications, thus:-





With a free Y (male) and a bound X (female) white/black structure on a purple ground.


This is still commensurate with a combination of global extreme right with global extreme pseudo-left, or noumenal subjectivity with noumenal pseudo-objectivity, supercross and pseudo-superstar.


We can – and should – distinguish the Supercross (or supra-cross) from the absolute cross (+) of Western tradition, including the swastika, which retains the rectilinear properties of an alpha-stemming extrapolation from the absolute star (superstar) as germane to Western civilization.


Hence the Supercross, as outlined by me in both less and more absolute permutations, is implicitly, if not explicitly, global, with curvilinear properties proper to metaphysics.


* * * *


Blessed with free psyche in the Holiness of Heaven and the Grace of God(liness), one is, as a hegemonic male, metaphysically Saved … as to the noumenal subjectivity of perfect gender sync.


If I am ‘philosopher king’, it is because I’m not politically or ideologically active enough to be ‘Messiah’, and not traditionally conservative – or stupid – enough to play ‘Second Coming’.  But, then, my celibacy also factors-in to my peculiar kind of ‘kingship’, given that you need to retain a metaphysical lifestyle as well as a capacity, correlative with that lifestyle, to deliver on metaphysical truth.  A familial philosopher, or a philosopher who has married and had children – what is that? One could be a ‘professor of philosophy’ and live a relatively worldly lifestyle, but so what?  Professors of philosophy and ‘philosopher kings’ are two entirely different propositions, as I’m sure Schopenhauer would concur, having, like one or two others that could be mentioned, abandoned the one for the other.


I could say, in American vein, that I’ve never been grist to no broad’s mill – sexually speaking.


Put differently, if equivalently, I could say, speaking personally, that I’m not coital grist to any woman’s reproductive mill.


* * * *


I like to live my life as though football didn’t exist.


One thing I shall never be is a sports-mad sonofabitch.


Individualism is a luxury of peacetime, collectivism a necessity of war.


Women are naturally – one might almost say inherently – restless, largely because fundamentally vacuums and given to drawing attention to themselves in terms of beauty’s claim to deference.


Less television and more radio would probably correlate with less knife crime and more handgun crime.


A man may have godly attributes, but that doesn’t make him God.  God, or godliness, is not susceptible to personification.


Technology is the pseudo-science intended for the service of genuine religion.  It is equivalent to the neutralized dragon (pseudo-dragon) under the saintly heel, and must be kept down, i.e. in its subordinate place.


It seems to me that O2  is a marketing clone of U2.


I have remained consistently aphoristic throughout my literary career (vocation).


A man who buys another computer after disillusionment with his previous one – which may or may not be his first – is akin to a man who remarries after having gone through a divorce – in short, a fool.


In a choice between the bitch TV and the pseudo-bitch computer, the latter is undeniably the less foolish course, though even pseudo-bitches can ‘screw one around’.


One cannot be a master and serve a mistress at the same time.


I am one of those people whose thoughts can excite a whole flurry of neighbourly discontent.


It is not the walls that have ears, but the people behind them – some of whom can be females who think they are in a relationship with one.


There is nothing worse than living with social or intellectual inferiors who don’t encourage one to get on with one’s work, but strive, consciously or unconsciously, deliberately or incidentally, to thwart one at every turn.


Thus the combination of the difficulty of one’s literary and internet activities coupled to the vagaries of computer technology is doubly compounded by the opposition of one’s neighbours – the basis of a dilemma almost guaranteed to drive one if not over then at the very least close to the brink of one’s nervous toleration.


* * * *


Bertrand Russell writes in, I think, an early volume of essays entitled Mysticism and Logic about a ‘free man’s worship’, but such a concept, notwithstanding puritan worship of the New Testament, is really a contradiction in terms, since one is only free when free from worship … of false gods.  And, more importantly, free for (Nietzsche) soulful self-realization which, if it doesn’t exactly exclude God, reduces him or, rather it (superconscious mind), to both a consequence and confirmation of precisely that self-realization, like a close-lipped smile.  But you don’t make the mistake of personifying such a smile!


Behold the tight-lipped smile of the godly, bearing effulgent witness to heavenly joy.


* * * *


Free somatic superheathen (supersensuous) beauty and love in metachemistry becomes, under metaphysical hegemonic pressure, free psychic pseudo-subchristian (pseudo-subconscious) pseudo-beauty and pseudo-love in pseudo-metachemistry, as though in a transmutation from evil to pseudo-punishment.


Conversely, bound psychic subchristian (subconscious) ugliness and hatred in metachemistry becomes, under metaphysical hegemonic pressure, bound somatic pseudo-superheathen (pseudo-supersensuous) pseudo-ugliness and pseudo-hatred in pseudo-metachemistry, as though in a transmutation from crime to pseudo-goodness.


Free psychic superchristian (superconscious) joy and truth in metaphysics becomes, under metachemical hegemonic pressure, free somatic pseudo-subheathen (pseudo-subsensuous) pseudo-joy and pseudo-truth in pseudo-metaphysics, as though in a transmutation from grace to pseudo-folly.


Conversely, bound somatic subheathen (subsensuous) woe and illusion in metaphysics becomes, under metachemical hegemonic pressure, bound psychic pseudo-superchristian (pseudo-superconscious) pseudo-woe and pseudo-illusion in pseudo-metaphysics, as though in a transmutation from wisdom to pseudo-sin.


Free somatic heathen (sensuous) pride and strength in chemistry becomes, under physical hegemonic pressure, free psychic pseudo-christian (pseudo-conscious) pseudo-pride and pseudo-strength in pseudo-chemistry, as though in a transmutation from pseudo-evil to punishment.


Conversely, bound psychic unchristian (unconscious) pseudo-humility and pseudo-weakness in chemistry becomes, under physical hegemonic pressure, bound somatic pseudo-unheathen (pseudo-unsensuous) pseudo-humility and pseudo-weakness in pseudo-chemistry, as though in a transmutation from pseudo-crime to goodness.


Free psychic christian (conscious) knowledge and pleasure in physics becomes, under chemical hegemonic pressure, free somatic pseudo-heathen (pseudo-sensuous) pseudo-knowledge and pseudo-pleasure in pseudo-physics, as though in a transmutation from pseudo-grace to folly.


Conversely, bound somatic unheathen (unsensuous) ignorance and pain in physics becomes, under chemical hegemonic pressure, bound psychic pseudo-unchristian (pseudo-unconscious) pseudo-ignorance and pseudo-pain in pseudo-physics, as though in a transmutation from pseudo-wisdom to sin.


* * * *


For me, philosophy comes easier than autobiography, which is what this project is largely supposed to be!


Am I really Irish?  I might have an Irish passport, but, after over fifty years in England, I don’t feel very Irish.  Nor, of course, do I sound Irish, since I was brought to England at the pre-speaking age of 2½.


All my schools were in England.


I would feel ridiculous confessing sins to a priest, partly because I don’t consider myself a sinner and partly because … I detest the religious limitations of Catholicism, not to mention Christianity in general.


As a boy, I found life in Aldershot, my adopted home town, exciting, what with three or more decent cinemas and parks, not to mention a plethora of milk bars and amusement arcades.


I bought John Mayall albums back in the late 60s, in Sutton, not least the wonderful Blues from Laurel Canyon in, I think, 1969.  Forty years later, I’m still buying John Mayall albums, including 2009’s Tough, which is significantly different from his albums with Buddy Whittington on guitar, but still recognizably Mayall…. This guy is not only the so-called ‘Father of British Blues’, he’s the voice and soul of the Blues from a British perspective in America, since his recent bands, including the last one, are predominantly American.  Therefore from the ‘Father of British Blues’ to the ‘Son of American Blues’ or perhaps even the ‘Spirit of American Blues’, which is, after all, the true home of the Blues.  Phenomenal!


* * * *


I detest bow ties and, by association, the people who wear them.  Previously I would have justified this detestation on the basis of an anti-upper-class sentiment.  Now I see that, while that still obtains to a degree, it is the X-factor that I especially detest.  Like the Nazi swastika when hung at an angle, bow ties are X-like in shape or style, thus betraying a centrifugal bias akin to metachemical objectivity and a chromosomal affinity with the free bitch or, rather, superbitch, the kind of female likely to be seen in a flounced dress.  One could say that bow ties stand in a kind of polar relationship, on the state-hegemonic axis, to long or straight ties, as generally worn by pr**ks, the latter-day middle-class and, in historical terms, ‘roundhead’ opponents of ‘cavaliers’, whose upper-class predilections, rooted in Anglicanism, need no sartorial or other apology.


No, I’m not a tie-wearer, neither of the one nor the other kind, since state-hegemonic axial criteria are unattractive to me, as, for that matter, are traditional church-hegemonic criteria and the tendency of conventional or ‘straight’ Catholic males towards open-neck collar shirts, as though the pseudo-physical subordinate corollary of the flounced-skirt predilection (traditionally) of chemical females, their ‘Marian’ counterparts.


* * * *


The only thing I hate worse than romantic songs is … political correctness, particularly when applying to feminism and its latter-day offshoots.


Do people really speak their minds these days?  It could be argued that most people, accustomed to servility, don’t have minds to speak in the first place and that this accords perfectly well with democracy’s toleration of so-called ‘free speech’.


I never thought much of fiction, except as a vehicle for the introduction – amorally, as it turns out – of philosophy, which has always been my raison d’être for writing.  One day, I figured that I might as well just write philosophy as dabble in quasi-pseudo-bitchful fiction.


Philosophy makes my writings important.


I may not feel particularly Irish after all this time in England, but I sure-as-hell ain’t British!


* * * *


The combination, in the noumenal realms of space and time, of metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry = theocracy and pseudo-autocracy, time and pseudo-space.


The combination, by axial contrast, of metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics = autocracy and pseudo-theocracy, space and pseudo-time.


The combination, down below in the phenomenal realms of volume and mass, of physics and chemistry = plutocracy and pseudo-democracy, mass and pseudo-volume.


The combination, by axial contrast, of chemistry and pseudo-physics = democracy and pseudo-plutocracy, volume and pseudo-mass.


Traditionally, the genuine element has the better of the ‘pseudo’ one polar to itself in gender terms on either axis.  Hence on the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis (northeast to southwest), theocracy has the better of pseudo-plutocracy on the male side of the gender divide, but democracy has the better of pseudo-autocracy on its female side.


Likewise, on the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate axis (northwest to southeast), autocracy has the better of pseudo-democracy on the female side of the gender divide, but plutocracy has the better of pseudo-theocracy on its male side.


* * * *




IMMORALITY                      AMORALITY




Pressure on unmorality by amorality descending from above (morality) results in immorality ascending from below (unmorality), to destabilize and usurp morality.


If morality is clear, then unmorality will be unholy.  Therefore an amoral approach (descending from above) to unholiness will result in an immoral approach (ascending from below) to clearness.


Conversely, if morality is holy, then unmorality will be unclear.  Therefore an amoral approach (descending from above) to unclearness will result in an immoral approach (ascending from below) to holiness.


* * * *


For several years I had my hair in a ponytail.  Then one day I decided to cut my hair shorter (though it was still relatively long), and, eventually, fed up with indecisiveness and a questionable accuracy and consistency of cut, I forced myself to do what had previously been the unthinkable and go to a barber to have it cut short professionally.


These days I see that I couldn’t resort to a ponytail again because, even with the possible desire – often perceived by detractors – to compensate for a receding hairline, I couldn’t accept the ringful necessity of binding it – just another kind of sonofabitch ring, like earrings and finger rings worn by males or, more accurately, pseudo-males of one kind or another.


When ‘ignorance was bliss’, as they say, it was a different matter.  But, nowadays, I am too enlightened on that score (the subject of ponytails) to ever want to reverse time.  Besides, there are other ways of compensating for a receding hairline – like beards and moustaches!


* * * *


Christ isn’t God.  The so-called Creator or ‘Father’ isn’t God.  God is neither a person nor a star (absolute in the case of the so-called Father, or Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father).  God, as I said before, is merely the corollary of Heaven, which is metaphysical soul (joy).


You can have a close-lipped smile motivated by joy, and be godly (as proof of the existence of heavenly soul), but that doesn’t make one God.  Probably it is possible to be more than momentarily godly on a supra-human (cyborgistic) basis, but that remains to be seen, in consequence of what is felt.


* * * *


Does the chrysalis precede the butterfly?  Of course.

Does the egg precede the chicken?  Naturally.  Or can’t they tell the difference between eggs and chickens?


I don’t think I have ever eaten chicken and eggs.  Have you?


The end of the egg is the chicken, but the means to the chicken is the egg.  Simple logic.


Often, people nip the chicken in the bud, so to speak, by eating the egg.


Means and ends are intertwined.  You can no more have good means to a bad end than bad means to a good end.  Both the egg (means) and the chicken (ends) are good, since one finds pleasure – and use – in each.  Should the chicken or, rather, chick survive and grow into a hen, the probability is that the hen will eventually lay an egg and perpetuate the virtuous cycle of a good means to a good (even better) end.


* * * *


The virtual purgatory of computing – how often one is left in a kind of limbo while the computer tries to sort itself out or … hopelessly fails.  If televisions are mechanical bitches, then it seems to me that computers are akin to pseudo-bitches … that require to be treated with immense circumspection.


Sometimes it’s very difficult to triumph over technology.  But it is religiously essential!


Metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass – supercross over pseudo-superstar (as defined earlier in relation to a contiguously-encircled [bound] absolute star) may well be equivalent to indoor gridiron over basketball, with or without a baseball-like administrative aside.  Why not?


I believe it was me who distinguished the circle in the square as ‘ringful’ from the square in the circle as ‘badgeful’ – neither of which could logically be other than that, precisely because we have a centrifugal/centripetal dichotomy between female-dominated vacuums (rings) and male-dominated plenums (badges) at the northwest and northeast points, respectively, of the intercardinal axial compass, where absolutism of one form or another is the mean.


* * * *


Of the two, I always preferred Sartre to Koestler, seeing in Sartre a ‘kindred spirit’ who, despite a regrettable penchant for plays, dominated the philosophy of his time.


A 66-year-old balding, potbellied Christ hanging on the Cross would never have become the symbol that Christians have been following, on and off, for 2000 years.  On the contrary, he would have been forgotten within days, if not hours, like hundreds if not thousands of other poor devils subjected to crucifixion.


It’s easier to start writing than it is to stop.  Writing has a way of gathering momentum and running away with itself.  The trick is to apply the metaphorical brakes in good time.


Mr Aziz endlessly up and down the bare stairs he had put in for the attic conversion – a zombie on the loose.  Also the landlord spider who rubs in one’s status as a flea in his web.  I really ought to move, but the problem is I don’t like spiders.  Besides, fleas have limited options, and my experience of lodging houses in the past has made it doubly difficult for me to face the prospect of moving to another one in the future.  Ideally, I would prefer to rent – simply because I can’t afford to buy - a detached property in the country, well away from stupid neighbours, and preferably in the land of my birth.


When I was about fourteen or fifteen they made me a patrol leader in the Baden-Powells – Squirrel Patrol, if I remember correctly.  I enjoyed being a patrol leader, as also carrying a knife and playing splits, whereby one threw the knife into the ground to either side of an opponent and made him stretch out a leg to it or fail to, as the case might be.  In those days, I could be a quasi-bitch and not know it!


We were the 5th Carshalton.  But I never knew how many scout troupes there were in Carshalton, or where the others met.


* * * *


So it’s 2010.  A hundred years since Winston Churchill, Liberal, opened Britain’s first Labour Exchange.  The modern Job Centre derives from that.  What can you say?  Winston Churchill was a great man.


I don’t blame Jews for not being overly fond of the Cross.  If I were a Jew I wouldn’t be, either.  One reason why the supercross-cum-supracross must be altogether different from a cross.


I can still remember receiving my first Gideon New Testament, a grey softback, from Mr Johnson Jr.  at the Baptist church in Carshalton Beeches.  I felt as though liberated … from the King James Bible and, by implication, the Old Testament.  No-one could be less frigging Nietzschean …


* * * *


I was never a numbskull before I moved, or was obliged to move, up to north London from Surrey.  That was 1974, and since then I haven’t known a day without cerebral pins and needles, a kind of cerebral clamp or pressure that some would equate with being nerdy and which I regard as a form of cerebral numbness.  Hence the expression ‘numbskull’.  I don’t know that I could ever be free of it, but I guess I would have to move well out of London to somewhere less depressing, which is to say, less built-up and noisy and overcrowded and congested and …


I’ve never liked Crouch End/Hornsey, or Finsbury Park, where I lived at my mother and stepfather’s flat for a few months after moving to north London.  That is why I have always been alone and … celibate.  Effectively without ‘sin’.


I’ve always had the feeling that I was too good for (better than) the country and environments I grew up in.


* * * *


I no more believe in male angels than in female saints.  Saints, for me, are always male and angels female – the bottled up pseudo-female, more correctly, under male-hegemonic control.


Similarly, I could no more believe in male whores than in female demons.  Demons, for me, are always male or, more correctly, pseudo-male, and whores female – the free, hegemonic female holding sway over a subordinate pseudo-male (sonofabitch).


However, in either case you have to distinguish the genuine from the pseudo, like genuine whores from their ‘pseudo’ counterparts, the former metachemical and the latter chemical, or pseudo-demons from their genuine counterparts, the former pseudo-metaphysical and the latter pseudo-physical.


Likewise, one has to distinguish genuine saints from their ‘pseudo’ counterparts, the former metaphysical and the latter physical, or pseudo-angels from their genuine counterparts, the former pseudo-metachemical and the latter chemical.


Hence the state-hegemonic/church-subordinate polarities between whores and angels (female, primary) and pseudo-demons and pseudo-saints (male, secondary), as against the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate polarities between saints and demons (male, primary) and pseudo-angels and pseudo-whores (female, secondary).  But I’ve gone into all this before.


* * * *


I returned after an absence of several months with long hair and a leather coat to receive the school history prize from, as it turned out, the deputy head, Mr Price, who greeted me cordially and reminded me of why I had held him in high esteem when still at school.  He was the antithesis of everything pompous or pretentious, a down-to-earth Welshman with a patient manner who taught English literature.


I think, when push comes to shove, I am more Norman than Celt or Viking or Saxon.  I remember that one of my best friends at school was called Norman (surname) and that my maternal grandmother, whom I naively adored as a child (the bitch had in me a kind of souvenir from Ireland to console her for not having made it stick when she returned after several years absence), was née Payne.  On the other hand, the O’Loughlins are totally alien to me – I never saw my father and have no respect for him or, indeed, that side of my ancestry.  I bear the name O’Loughlin without pride or identification.  I am only ‘of him’ in the most nominal, basic sense.  And what is that?


Identifying with things Irish is not easy for me, and often I have to pull myself up short of being carried away by a sentimental delusion.  Although born in Ireland, I am only too conscious that my mother was the English-born daughter of Irish parents who would never have gone to Ireland had her mother not decided to return there following the death of her Aldershot-based ex-army husband.  Thus when that fell through and she was able to return to Aldershot, it must have been with considerable relief, despite having me to bring up (nominally) and no husband around to help her and her failing mother to continue living with – at least until her death and repatriation several years later.  By which time I was approaching ten and being earmarked for a Protestant Children’s Home in Carshalton Beeches.  Thus she eventually achieved her freedom from both her mother and me, and duly remarried.  I had been got out of the way as the mistake that her exile in Ireland had forced upon her and had to endure the consequences, which were not congenial, especially since I had already grown accustomed, by then, to thinking of myself as a catholic, compliments of my grandmother’s influence and regular attendance at the local catholic church, St Joseph’s, in Aldershot, where I eventually officiated as an altar boy.  Now, under Protestant pressures, that was a thing of the past (and has continued to be so to this day), like having any respect for parents or, indeed, adults generally.  Henceforth I was to become a solitary rebel with no respect for either parents or conventional religion.  I felt that the Catholic Church had betrayed me by letting that happen, just as my mother had betrayed me by putting me into care in her own selfish and short-term interests – though only several years after my father had betrayed me by turning his back on his family and returning to his mother’s house!  Is it any wonder that I have no time for families?  Even my grandmother is culpable for not having been able to make her return to Ireland stick.  But, then again, she had married a Presbyterian from the North (Donegal, not quite Northern Ireland, but no matter!) who just happened to be a soldier in the British Army at the time of the War of  Independence 1920-22.  That alone – quite apart from her Aldershot connections and Aldershot-born daughter – wouldn’t have done her any favours back in Galway.  Bah! Don’t talk to me of ancestors.  Proud to be Irish?  Rather, ashamed to have Irish connections and to always having been burdened by an Irish name (O’Loughlin) in England.


No wonder I generally despise the Irish.  Most of the time they don’t deliver on their promises.  They can’t even produce newspapers that are free of the most stupid and inexplicable typographical errors – reading an Irish newspaper is one of the most frustrating experiences I know, what with numerous blunders on any given page, and even the facts don’t add up or are subject to gross distortion or exaggeration or contradiction.  One wonders whether papers like ‘The Connaught Tribune’ and the ‘Irish Independent’ actually have editors or proof-readers, so slapdash is the typographical presentation.


There aren’t too many Irish musicians who don’t make me cringe – perhaps Gary Moore (to the extent that he’s Irish), Philip Donnelly, Phil Lynott (not invariably kosher), Davy Spillane, Don Baker, and Maire Brennan.  But most of them … what a bunch of hyped-up mediocrities.


If the Israelis did despise the Irish (as was alleged in regard to the recent passports fiasco in which the forged identities of several Irish and British citizens were utilized by what was presumed to be an Israeli hit squad in the execution of a terrorist-related assassination) I wouldn’t altogether blame them, much as I despise any form or degree of Creatorism and Old Testamentism, fundamentalism or free starism, so to speak, and only find the Irish admirable when they give all that short shrift in pursuance, at least as far as males are concerned, of a pro-transcendentalist stance.


Bruce Arnold is one of the better Irish journalists in the ‘Irish Independent’, as is Kevin Myers, Ian O’Doherty, Lise Hand, James Downey, David McWilliams, and Kim Bielenberg, who tend to prove the theory that if you’ve got a brain you look after your own typography – pretty much.


* * * *


My nearest neighbour, Mr Hawkins, is indubitably the most obnoxious, underhand, shabby, degenerate, uncouth wretch I’ve ever known … or ever hope to know. Two minutes is too long in his company, as in the communal kitchen, given the extent of his not very well-disguised deprecatory thoughts, which are pure psychological poison.  Even if there were a Creator, I would hate ‘Him’ for having created such a despicable florid-faced creep.  It is partly because of people like Hawkins that I’m unable to believe in a Creator God.


As for the ‘God’ who said ‘love thy neighbour as thyself’ … well, what can I say?  I’ve always had a problem with that concept.  As with the concept of ‘God as Man’, ‘God made Flesh’, ‘God come down to Earth’, and all that kind of crap.  They succeeded in turning Christ into a sonofabitch when they made him flesh as a boy on his mother’s knees or in her arms and, later, after he’d got the better of her, as a figure limply hanging on the Cross, on the ‘right-hand side’, axially speaking, of the Devil-the-Mother ‘God’ of Free Will in back of the Western extrapolation, the Middle Eastern Judaic anchor to both Marian and Christic extrapolations tarred by the same ‘thingful’ brush as would attend the absolute star (stellar-like) from which the notion of ‘Creator’ evidently derives – with all its beautiful free will.


Inconceivable that female priests, or Protestant ministers, would advise the males of their family-affirming mixed congregations to abandon wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, girlfriends, etc., to follow Christ towards that metaphysical summit which stands hegemonically over pseudo-metachemical pseudo-females like St George over a neutralized dragon, a ‘lion’ that, like jumpjets on aircraft carriers, is obliged to ‘lie down’ with the chopper-like ‘lamb’ that ‘calls the shots’ from a plane above it at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass.  Rather, would they be more inclined, these female ministers, to affirm family values and, hence, the ‘world’.  Though, where female hegemonies are concerned, i.e. in terms of chemistry over pseudo-physics at the southwest point of the said compass, that would be more Catholic than Protestant.  Ironic, what?


The statue-worshipping sonofabitch is unlikely to have much time for pornography, let alone erotica, when he is conditioned – as he is – to defer to the ‘concrete’ at the expense of the ‘abstract’, for which he ought, as a male (nominally) to have if not a natural then, at any rate, a nurtural, or psychic, predilection.  For abstraction always accrues to a male-hegemonic elemental position, be it physical (and humanist) or metaphysical (and transcendentalist), relative or absolute, phenomenal or noumenal, of neutronic molecular wavicles or of photonic elemental wavicles, of the ego or of the soul.


The worshipper of figurative sculpture, say the so-called ‘Blessed Virgin’ or ‘Mother of God’ (sic), will find it difficult if not impossible to appreciate abstract art.  His concrete-conditioned predilection will be towards so-called representational art – figurative paintings of a pseudo-religious order, reflective of female dominion, and therefore of a predominating somatic (bodily) disposition.


An ‘abstract female’ strikes me as being as much of a contradiction as … a ‘concrete male’ – the latter of whom must surely be a mad (gender upended) sonofabitch as the former a mad (gender upended) daughterofabastard, so to speak.


* * * *


The puritanical bastards in the Children’s Home I had been sent to by my self-serving mother ensured that I didn’t get sent, following a short spell at Barrowhedges Junior School, to the local mixed school but, rather, to an all-boys school several miles away, to which, perforce, I was obliged to walk every day, come rain or shine.  The school, of course, taught one nothing about inter-gender skills, but seemed bent upon turning young boys into homosexuals for life.  I suspect that the girls at the nearby all-girls school were likewise prepared for a lesbian future in which males were to be looked down upon – not altogether unreasonably – as unromantic boors and sexual incompetents.  Which sounds like a typically English character trait. 


Naturally, the Junior School, like any Infants School already attended, had been mixed, but so what?  At that age boys and girls are scarcely aware of sex, least of all reproductively.  Needless to say, I have not, since leaving school back in 1970, had any fruitful relations with anybody of the opposite sex and, because I draw the line at homosexuality in view of my distaste for the concept of buggery as sex, I have simply lived and slept alone, without recourse to any but the meanest, self-inflicted kinds of carnal pleasure.  I last kissed a girl in 1971 (it’s now 2010), and that was more formal and conventional than the consequence of romantic passion.  I don’t think I could ever change.  For how, after all that time, can you suddenly decide to ‘go straight’ and have sexual relations with anyone?  Particularly as, at 57, one is hardly in a physical position to attract younger women. 


No, I believe my sexuality was systematically screwed, along with a number of other things, from the beginning, both by the puritan regime obtaining in the Children’s Home, the nature of my schooling, health problems (including the draining of a life-threatening abscess from my appendix and subsequent appendectomy and apparent stitching of a concomitant hernia in two separate operations a year apart) and, subsequently, by forbidding landlords and/or landladies who compounded what was already a difficult situation, in view of my modest upbringing and insalubrious background, by discouraging amorous or, indeed, any relations with the opposite sex. 


Finally, when you come from such an underprivileged background as I did, and are extremely myopic and dependent on spectacles a lot of the time, it seems only too inevitable that you should go through life completely alone, without any form of sexual companionship.  Which, in some respects, is an advantage, given the hideous superficiality and vulgarity of most people, not least females, in this democratic age.


* * * *


I can’t watch more than five minutes of football on TV, as a rule, without wanting to throw up, particularly when they head the ball.  To my mind, such people would be incapable of even the most rudimentary degree of religious sensibility.


I always prefer my electronic-keyboard-instrumental music to anyone else’s music.  It is immeasurably superior to all that philistine vocal-pissed-upon rock crap or, more correctly, pseudo-crap.


I hate rock singers going on about love.


My great impossibles:-

     Jon Anderson – he makes even Neil Young sound like a man;

     Graham Nash – he still reminds me of the Hollies;

     Rory Gallagher – I wish this talented musician hadn’t done those overblown endings (cadences in classical music) quite so often;

     Rod Stewart – his antipathy to jeans has always struck me as socially indefensible.  Makes Dylan sound sonorous;

     Cliff Richard – preferred him in ‘The Young Ones’ to singing at Billy Graham crusades.

     Engelbert Humperdinck – Engelbert what?!


* * * *


In the Catholic Church they expect you to confess sins even before you’ve reached puberty.  Moreover, they tend to think, erroneously, that females and males are equally guilty of sin, irrespective of the fact that, in chemistry, females are more prone to pseudo-evil and pseudo-crime than, like their pseudo-physical counterparts, to folly and sin, free soma and bound psyche from a pseudo-male standpoint.


The Catholic Church would be capable of throwing the filth of sin (not to mention folly) over even the most innocent of children.


I can’t remember for the life of me what kind of sins I confessed to when eight or nine, but I certainly gave it a go!


There must be people who continue to confess sins, or what they believe to be such, well into old age simply because it has become habitual with them and they don’t know how to stop.


* * * *


Contrasting female divergence with male convergence, objectivity (from a vacuum) with subjectivity (in relation to a plenum), is equivalent to contrasting what I like to call ‘outsanity’, or outer sanity, with ‘insanity’, or inner sanity – in other words, centrifugal somatic extroversion with centripetal psychic introversion, as though in an alpha/omega dichotomy between metachemistry and metaphysics on the noumenal (ethereal) planes of space and time, and chemistry and physics on the phenomenal (corporeal) planes of volume and mass.


With metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, noumenal divergence over noumenal pseudo-convergence = noumenal outsanity over noumenal pseudo-insanity, absolute objectivity over absolute pseudo-subjectivity.


With metaphysics over pseudo-metachemistry at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, noumenal convergence over noumenal pseudo-divergence = noumenal insanity over noumenal pseudo-outsanity, absolute subjectivity over absolute pseudo-objectivity.


With chemistry over pseudo-physics at the southwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, phenomenal divergence over phenomenal pseudo-convergence = phenomenal outsanity over phenomenal pseudo-insanity, relative objectivity over relative pseudo-subjectivity.


With physics over pseudo-chemistry at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, phenomenal convergence over phenomenal pseudo-divergence = phenomenal insanity over phenomenal pseudo-outsanity, relative subjectivity over relative pseudo-objectivity.


Worse than the pseudo-insane unmoral pseudo-male is the quasi-outsane immoral quasi-female, the unhinged pseudo-male who, succumbing to amoral pressure coming down from above, takes a ratio, whether absolute or relative, favouring bound-psychic negativity immorally ‘upstairs’ … towards the hegemonic female’s moral elemental position(s).


Worse than the pseudo-outsane unmoral pseudo-female is the quasi-insane immoral quasi-male, the unhinged pseudo-female who, succumbing to amoral pressure coming down from above, takes a ratio, whether absolute or relative, favouring bound-somatic negativity immorally ‘upstairs’ … to the hegemonic male’s moral elemental position(s).


* * * *


To contrast the noumenal objectivity (doing) of metachemistry with the noumenal pseudo-subjectivity (pseudo-being) of pseudo-metaphysics, as one would contrast space with pseudo-time, or free will with bound soul.


To contrast the phenomenal objectivity (giving) of chemistry with the phenomenal pseudo-subjectivity (pseudo-taking) of pseudo-physics, as one would contrast volume with pseudo-mass, or free spirit with bound ego.


To contrast the phenomenal subjectivity (taking) of physics with the phenomenal pseudo-objectivity (pseudo-giving) of pseudo-chemistry, as one would contrast mass with pseudo-volume, or free ego with bound spirit.


To contrast the noumenal subjectivity (being) of metaphysics with the noumenal pseudo-objectivity (pseudo-doing) of pseudo-metachemistry, as one would contrast time with pseudo-space, or free soul with bound will.


* * * *


Philosophy is my heaven, my release from the world, which is why I seldom succeed in remaining or being autobiographical for long – given the painful and humbling nature of my past.  Yet this text is still, relatively speaking, an autobiography, and will be marketed as such.


Bodily people are always more ‘outsane’ than ‘insane’, that is, heathenistic than christianistic, star than cross, given the female nature of the thing. With them ‘mental’ is automatically a term of opprobrium, whereas ‘physical’ is virtually de rigueur or, at any rate, the more acceptable, because traditionally prevalent, state-of-affairs.


I have taken philosophy as far as it can go, that is, to a definitive insight into metaphysics, with correlative knowledge of (the positions and comparative significances of) physics, chemistry, and, last and least, metachemistry, the free-will bitch whose beauty, going back to the so-called ‘Creator’, continues to tyrannize over life in the interests, needless to add, of a reproductive resolution.  What’s rooted, spatially, in infinity will not permit eternity to transpire unless defeated by those for whom the triumph of repetitive time, or time per se, is the be-all-and-end-all of evolutionary progress.  Soul can only be free when Will is bound, and bound absolutely, as the pseudo-metachemical corollary of a metaphysical hegemony favouring male freedom.


* * * *


To contrast the ethereal concretion of protonic elemental particles with the ethereal pseudo-abstraction of pseudo-photonic pseudo-elemental wavicles, as one would contrast the noumenally objective ‘outsanity’ of metachemistry with the noumenally pseudo-subjective ‘pseudo-insanity’ of pseudo-metaphysics, the scientific free will of the spatial extreme left with the pseudo-religious bound soul of the sequential extreme pseudo-right.


To contrast the corporeal concretion of electronic molecular particles with the corporeal pseudo-abstraction of pseudo-neutronic pseudo-molecular wavicles, as one would contrast the phenomenally objective ‘outsanity’ of chemistry with the phenomenally pseudo-subjective ‘pseudo-insanity’ of pseudo-physics, the political free spirit of the volumetric moderate left with the pseudo-economic bound ego of the massed moderate pseudo-right.


To contrast the corporeal abstraction of neutronic molecular wavicles with the corporeal pseudo-concretion of pseudo-electronic pseudo-molecular particles, as one would contrast the phenomenally subjective ‘insanity’ of physics with the phenomenally pseudo-objective ‘pseudo-outsanity’ of pseudo-chemistry, the economic free ego of the massive moderate right with the pseudo-political bound spirit of the voluminous moderate pseudo-left.


To contrast the ethereal abstraction of photonic elemental wavicles with the ethereal pseudo-concretion of pseudo-protonic pseudo-elemental particles, as one would contrast the noumenally subjective ‘insanity’ of metaphysics with the noumenally pseudo-objective ‘pseudo-outsanity’ of pseudo-metachemistry, the religious free soul of the repetitive extreme right with the pseudo-scientific bound will of the spaced extreme pseudo-left.


* * * *


Most people mistakenly identify madness with insanity when, in actuality, it is the pseudo-outsane and pseudo-insane who are technically ‘mad’, that is to say, somatically and/or psychically reversed by subordination to the hegemonic gender whose freedom and binding ‘calls the shots’, be it female (and somatically free but psychically bound) or male (and psychically free but somatically bound).


The ‘insane’, or those whose sanity is inner (and psychic) are no more mad than the ‘outsane’, or those whose sanity is outer (and somatic); they are simply sane, i.e. in sync with gender reality, be it soma preceding and predominating over psyche (female) or psyche preceding and preponderating over soma (male), in opposite ways, whether absolutely (3:1) or relatively (2½:1½), in noumenal (ethereal) or phenomenal (corporeal) terms – a distinction, after all, between clearness and holiness in relation to metachemistry and metaphysics respectively, but (between) pseudo-clearness and pseudo-holiness in relation to chemistry and physics. 


The pseudo-metaphysical and the pseudo-metachemical are pseudo-unholy and pseudo-unclear respectively, whereas the pseudo-physical and the pseudo-chemical are respectively unholy and unclear.


Hence the combination of clearness and pseudo-unholiness with metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics – a distinction between whores and pseudo-demons.


Hence the combination of holiness and pseudo-unclearness with metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry – a distinction between saints and pseudo-angels.


Hence the combination of pseudo-clearness and unholiness with chemistry and pseudo-physics – a distinction between pseudo-whores and demons.


Hence the combination of pseudo-holiness and unclearness with physics and pseudo-chemistry – a distinction between pseudo-saints and angels.


To contrast the vanity of whores with the pseudo-meekness of pseudo-demons, as one would contrast evil and crime with pseudo-folly and pseudo-sin in the free soma and bound psyche of metachemistry and pseudo-metaphysics.


To contrast the righteousness of saints with the pseudo-justice of pseudo-angels, as one would contrast grace and wisdom with pseudo-evil and pseudo-crime in the free psyche and bound soma of metaphysics and pseudo-metachemistry.


To contrast the pseudo-vanity of pseudo-whores with the meekness of demons, as one would contrast pseudo-crime and pseudo-evil with sin and folly in the bound psyche and free soma of chemistry and pseudo-physics.


To contrast the pseudo-righteousness of pseudo-saints with the justice of angels, as one would contrast pseudo-wisdom and pseudo-grace with goodness and punishment in the bound soma and free psyche of physics and pseudo-chemistry.


The British pride themselves, rightly, on their justice, the justice of angels; the Irish on their righteousness, the righteousness of saints.  A distinction between state-hegemonic and church-hegemonic axial criteria, with correspondingly different gender emphases.


* * * *


Infinite space is spatial and hegemonically co-exists, at the northwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, with the sequential time (pseudo-time) of the pseudo-Eternal, as metachemistry with pseudo-metaphysics.


Eternal time is repetitive and hegemonically co-exists, at the northeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, with the spaced space (pseudo-space) of the pseudo-Infinite, as metaphysics with pseudo-metachemistry.


Finite volume is volumetric and hegemonically co-exists, at the southwest point of the intercardinal axial compass, with the massed mass (pseudo-mass) of the pseudo-Temporal, as chemistry with pseudo-physics.


Temporal mass is massive and hegemonically co-exists, at the southeast point of the intercardinal axial compass, with the voluminous volume (pseudo-volume) of the pseudo-Finite, as physics with pseudo-chemistry.


Just as the pseudo-Finite is axially half-way to the Infinite, and the Finite axially half-way to the pseudo-Infinite, so the pseudo-Finite is bi-axially the whole way from the Finite and the pseudo-Infinite bi-axially the whole way from the Infinite.


Just as the pseudo-Temporal is axially half-way to the Eternal and the Temporal axially half-way to the pseudo-Eternal, so the pseudo-Temporal is bi-axially the whole way from the Temporal and the pseudo-Eternal bi-axially the whole way from the Eternal.


* * * *


I once bought a rubber condom from a barber shop in Carshalton Beeches, Surrey, when I was about fourteen or fifteen, just for a dare from some local friends, but I never used it and, to this day, I still haven’t used, or found cause to use, a condom.  Quite apart from the fact that I’ve never had sex, I suppose I must have some inbuilt aversion to such things deriving from a catholic inheritance.


I guess I was always too conscious, despite an enforced Protestant upbringing, of being of Irish Catholic descent in England to be much interested in the local girls, many of whom, in any case, would not have been interested in me, even if I hadn’t been hamstrung by a variety of restrictions, both physiological and psychological, appertaining to the Children’s Home and in no position to assume a romantic role or predilection.  Besides, I’ve always had a certain aversion to propagating the O’Loughlin name not only because I live in England and have no desire to inflict England on anyone born with my surname, but also because, never having known my father, I don’t consider his name worth perpetuating, not having had the benefit of a father’s love or support and having, in consequence, absolutely no ambitions of that nature myself.


When my father died of booze-complicated pneumonia in Galway, prematurely as it turned out, there was no mention, according to my mother (who received news and journalistic proof of his death through the post) of  his ever having married in the obituary in the local Galway paper – quite understandably, in a way, since his relatives would not have wanted it publicly known that he had a wife and son, whom he abandoned years before and had paid nothing to in the meantime, living in Aldershot, England, to which country his wife had returned with her Galway mother after their marriage had ‘hit the rocks’ of an ethnically-complicated misalliance.  Thus the concealment or ‘cover up’ of my father’s past familial misadventures went ‘hand in glove’ with this exile of his son in, of all places, Aldershot, home to the British military, where he was destined to remain in companionless solitude and increasingly poor health until, following the death of his maternal grandmother, he was dispatched by his mother to a Children’s Home in Carshalton Beeches, Surrey, there to spend the next six years under a Protestant dispensation, with absolutely no appeal or redress.  No wonder I find people – and my parents most of all – so detestable, and am still celibate at fifty-seven, never having married or fostered children.  Frankly, I have no familial ambitions whatsoever, given the nature of my background and parentage.  I live, to the extent I live at all, for my philosophy and the ideology of Social Theocracy/Transcendentalism, which I invented as an antidote to both life as ‘we’ know it and, more especially, as I know it.  This philosophy is essentially about man’s overcoming in the interests of a more evolved cyborgistic/bionic future.


Those who point a finger at me, accusing me of being this and that – low, a bum, rubbish, bent, homosexual, selfish, unsociable, an outsider, etc., don’t know the half of it, nor, in most instances, would they be capable of knowing or understanding anything about me and what makes me tick.  The superficiality and crass vulgarity of such people – most of whom are females - only further contributes towards my detestation of the generality of mankind.


Friendless, I live and suffer alone, above and beyond the competitive travails and vulgar ambitions of this world with its gender and social delusions, like Prometheus or Christ or Bunyan’s Pilgrim, who eventually attained to the ‘celestial city’ of his heavenly imaginings.


* * * *


Of the two great ‘higher-minded’ nineteenth-century German philosophers, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, I have always preferred Schopenhauer, who had the sense and moral insight to ‘see through’ this world and reject it in favour of … but no, it was left to Nietzsche to try and come up with a ‘free for’ as against a ‘free from’, and in some respects he almost succeeded, not least in relation to his concept of the ‘Superman’ and its corollary that ‘man is something that should be overcome’.  I believe my interpretation of that differs substantially from Nietzsche’s, but I doubt that I would have got started along the path to ‘man overcoming’, never mind brought it to a successful theoretical conclusion, had it not been for Nietzsche and his developmental progress beyond Schopenhauer.  Nevertheless, there is something about the ‘will to power’ ethos, even over oneself (ostensibly his real motive), that leaves me cold and misses the point that Schopenhauer was able to so thoroughly grasp – namely that will and power, or willpower, are the chief obstacles in the way of soulful contentment, the true end of man, which is effectively as far removed, à la Schopenhauer, from all that is wilfully powerful as it’s possible for anything or, rather, anyone to be.  Just as a denial of the spirit, of free spirit, is crucial to the freedom of ego in physics, so the denial of the will, of free will, is crucial to the freedom of soul in metaphysics.  It is, in either case, a male verses female battle, and ultimate victory to the male is only possible, axially considered, on the basis of free soul and the absolute defeat, in consequence, of free will, the methodology of which I have, of course, outlined in several previous texts or works.


But free soul is not a vacuum, or nothing, a mere release from pain, as Schopenhauer tended to argue in his refusal to acknowledge the inherent positivity of male, or metaphysical, soul.  It is certainly no-thing, because a psychic plenum, and can be switched on, naturally or, more significantly, artificially, with the aid of synthetic stimulants.  It is the artificial or synthetic ‘switching on’ of the soul that will constitute its freedom in the cyborgistic future, which I tend to identify with ‘Kingdom Come’, and it will be the prerogative only of metaphysical males after the coming to pass, with ‘Judgement’, of a majority mandate for religious sovereignty from out the paradoxical utilization of the democratic process in certain countries axially predisposed, through ethnic tradition, to church-hegemonic/state-subordinate criteria, to an otherworldly end, an end in which the holiness of free soul will be hegemonically triumphant, like the legendary English saint, over the neutralized dragon of bound will, epitomized by the pseudo-metachemical, whose gender, being pseudo-female, will be unclearly at cross-purposes with itself under male (metaphysical) hegemonic pressure and consequently in no position to threaten or undermine the blessed sanctity (in perfect gender sync) of the metaphysical Elect of Soul, the super- if not supra-human participants, through religious sovereignty, in Heaven … the Holy Soul.


* * * *


False gods may have the power and glory of free will and free spirit, but any god or, rather, godliness that is true (and not merely knowledgeable, or half-true) will testify to the contentment of free soul from a position akin, in superconsciousness, to what could be called super-form, the ‘once-bovaryized’ form of godly truth whose sole raison d’être is to bear witness to heavenly joy, to the joyous beatitude of free soul, which is the fulcrum and therefore principal characteristic of metaphysics.


It is ironic that at a time when the Catholic Church in Ireland is rightly under intense critical scrutiny for its toleration and ‘cover up’ of sexually deviant priests, the Irish state should have brought in new anti-blasphemy laws, as though to shore up the tottering edifice of the Church and, by implication, their own power base in relation to it.  Is this not highly paradoxical and even hypocritical?  Especially since most blasphemy – difficult as it is to define – would be directed not at godliness (of which most people have little or no insight) in relation to Heaven but, rather, at the false gods whose existence either precede or are independent of Heaven in contexts, necessarily ‘thingful’ and conducive to idolatry, deriving from the fundamental lie of Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father, the ‘best of a bad job’ starting-point of civilization which inevitably became the root, Judaically, of the Christian extrapolation, both Marian and Christic, whose principal ‘gods’ are ‘tarred by the same (thingful) brush’ as indubitably accrues to the female side of life (concrete), both metachemical and chemical, and accords with the seat of that power and glory, in free will and free spirit, that constrains even the male side, barring puritan knowledge-centred religiosity, to a sonofabitch-like subservience before the female virtues of free will and free spirit, beauty and pride (not strength), whether directly, as in the Christmas-tide infantile ‘Son of God’ on his mother’s strong knees or in her proud arms, or indirectly, as in the Easter-tide crucified ‘Son of God’ who, whilst he may have the better of his mother, prone (neutralized dragon-like) at the foot of the so-called ‘true cross’ (of a Y-chromosomal intimation with upstretched arms), is still fundamentally subject to the beautiful sway of the absolute star Creator ‘Mother’ metachemically in back of bound metaphysical soma (the crucifixional paradigm) from a contrary axial standpoint that necessarily constrains Christ, and by implication Catholic or Western civilization, to a metaphysically-truncated role easily – and necessarily – downgraded ‘sacred heart’-wise, into pseudo-metachemistry from fear that TM (transcendental meditation) could get out of the bag of ‘sacred lungs’ (to which bound metaphysical soma would be entitled as far as the ‘Son of God’ is concerned) at the expense of ‘Devil the Mother’ hyped as ‘God the Father’ metachemically in back, as noted, of everything, like an absolute star (equal number of points) whose predominant somatic freedom continues to conventionally rule the religious roost at the expense of Truth and metaphysical liberation, through free soul, from the stranglehold of free will, a stranglehold that even Schopenhauer would have repudiated – and did – in the interests of an oriental-oriented freedom from conventional religion and its myriad falsehoods.


Bah! enough said on that score, as on the Irish republic’s tendency to back priests at the expense of the people and their liberation from false religion.  This republic is also, as recent circumstances have shown, a disgrace, which must be democratically opposed and defeated by Social Theocracy at the election booths in due course, if Truth is to metaphysically prevail and the shame of Irish republicanism be transcended in and by the most credible approximation, through Social Transcendentalism, to ‘Kingdom Come’.


* * * *


We are often our own worst enemies, having to struggle against self-doubt and inner frailties that remain determined to trip us up and put obstacles in the way of our intellectual or moral progress.  To some extent, this is due to personal and social circumstances, to environment, health, age, gender, the people we live with, the kind of work we do, our character and temperament, etc.  But there is also a sense in which we are the sum of a variety of ancestral parts, both male and female, of this ethnicity and that ethnicity, even of mixed race or dissimilar class, and these ancestral factors jostle within us and somehow have an effect on how we think, whether positively or negatively, for good or bad.  Other than in simple human terms, few if any of us are truly composite entities but, rather, an amalgamation of disparate inheritances, both living and dead, that drive us this way and that according to what we are doing and how that fits in with the ancestral experience.  Like it or not, you are the sum of your various ancestors, and they have a say, whether or not you pay much attention, in the direction of your life.


* * * *


My Bangladeshi landlord is a total and utter c**t, who, with his clipped moustache, looks and often acts like Josef Stalin.


I would be the last person to do a concert (à la George Harrison) or indeed anything else for Bangladesh.


I live with the shame of having a Bangladeshi landlord, which has become more pronounced since he had the gall to move in with his tenants and … glory in his power at close-range, so to speak.


One also has to endure his teenage son, his ex-wife (whom he had the son by), and her son (much younger) by a different husband, a Bangladeshi half-wit who returned to Bangladesh (Aziz kicked him out) and does not have to put up with – as the rest of us do – the noisy antics and arbitrary outbursts of his son, as by rights he damn-well should.  Really, that gets me to the core!  To have to put up with somebody else’s frigging kid!  But, then, so too does Aziz, in the interests of currying favour – the metaphor is apt! – with his ex-wife and taking advantage of her domicile here, of her dependence, these days, on his protection.


Sometimes, the way he carries on with that kid, you’d think it was his own.  But its most hysterical outbursts seem to occur when it is alone with him rather than in the care of its mother, as though it sensed that Aziz, for all his apparent solicitude, was not his real father … whatever pretensions to the contrary he might like to uphold.


That man has taken advantage of his tenants in ways that beggar belief, not least in relation to the underhand way in which he has gradually moved both himself and his extended family in here, making one feel increasingly peripheral and … helpless.  Bad enough that he should always be bringing workmen and odd-jobbers in to replace this and that, or repair something that he can’t be bothered to do or simply hasn’t the skills to do, or simply to make changes for the sake of change, or to find that he is obliged to make changes because so indebted to the council and others from having taken out so many loans for his ambitions expansion and renovation plans, but this … it gives me the creeps just to think about it!


Frankly there is little or nothing about these particular Bangladeshis, including his ‘ex’, that I like.  She hogs the kitchen too such an extent that one feels an interloper, especially when her son by the second husband is also in there (as he usually is) making a jabbering row and generally throwing his tiny weight around.  Besides, she makes such a row with everything her grossly large hands come into contact with that it would be a most unpleasant experience to stay there even if the smell of their food didn’t disgust or nauseate one, and effectively drive one out with the minimum of pre-packed food and drink to shamefully take back upstairs to one’s solitary room.  But one doesn’t have to be in the kitchen for that to happen, as I have often found out to my cost when lying in bed of a morning or sitting in my room of an afternoon or evening, when the snot-like stench of it can be so overpowering as to make one gasp for breath and rush to the air freshener for nasal relief.


However, the richness and copious extravagance of their food – which, incidentally, they can cook and eat at virtually any time of the day - is not the worst of my problems … for not only are they highly excitable and vocally high-pitched, but also inveterately disorganized and slovenly in their dress, not to mention indecisive in what or how long they take to do anything, like going out or visiting the toilet and bathroom (which, like the kitchen, I also have to share with them … and others, including old Mr Hawkins).  And, of course, before I forget, there is the barbarous door slamming that is a constant feature of life in this small tenemented lodging-house, both in relation to the heavy doors with closures and those without, including the front door, which the bitch with the overly large hands slams with a violence, whenever she exists the building with or without her kid, that simply beggars belief and does one’s mental equilibrium no favours whatsoever, least of all when one is busily engrossed in some intellectual problem or literary commitment!  In that respect, this house, even without constant comings and goings by all and sundry, is easily the worst offender in the entire street if not, I sometimes think, the entire borough!


I really should move out of here and find somewhere quieter and more self-contained, without the shrieks of that kid invading my peace of mind and, along with all the other upsets and outrages, throwing me off balance, but it is easier said than done, especially when you dislike north London and, by extension, London anyway, and have nowhere particular in mind, least of all in the immediate neighbourhood or borough.


I shall just have to put up with that cynical bitch and her zany kid a while longer, not to mention Aziz and his teenage brat – largely, I suspect, for the sake of my work, which, even without the Internet (which the landlord supplies), has always kept me virtually chained to my desk every day.


There is another reason, and that is that I kind of fancy Hawkins’s half-chink teenage daughter, though I have only seen her a few times, and then infrequently.  But she has youth on her side and an artful dress sense, and I have always had a thing for girls with pudding-basin hairstyles which can be modified, as with this one, towards a fringe-and-ponytail when she wants to abandon a flouncy skirt for a straight or tight minidress.  I could fall for that, and seeing as I don’t have any other romantic inclinations or possibilities ….


But Hawkins himself still remains a thorn in my side, and as long as he is here she is unlikely to visit him as often as she used to do in her pre-pubic past, for reasons best known to herself.  She did show up in a summery dress one Sunday afternoon a year or two ago when he was in hospital for a few days, in consequence of what I understood to be a tobacco-fuelled heart attack, ostensibly to get some of his things from his room, but she kind of caught me off guard as I was on my way out and I didn’t think to capitalize on it or take advantage of her presence … much as I have since regretted it, in spite of the delicacy of the situation and my concern for her apparent motives regarding her father at the time …. But deep down I have always thought that I could avenge myself on that bastard Hawkins through his half-caste daughter … like taking compensation for all the inconvenience his uncouth presence constitutes.  Maybe one day I shall, but that remains to be seen, since she is rarely here, as noted, these days anyway.


I sometimes fantasize about burning the axial candle, so to speak, at both ends, juggling both a nigger and a chink to my satisfaction, with the benefit of a flounced skirt one day and a straight dress the next, pudding basin and ponytail (with fringe), low-heeled open-toed shoes and high-heeled enclosed-toe shoes, etc., etc., but it remains no more than an occasional fantasy which circumstances are unlikely to encourage for real, even if I could get my philosopher-king-inspired messianic pretensions out of the way for a day or two, which seems unlikely.  Besides, I equate sex with nature, even natural metaphysics, and the advocate of cyborgistic metaphysics isn’t even humanist, never mind naturalist, enough to be able to get down to a metaphysical regression of that degree or kind.  Bah!  How often have I thought that?!


* * * *


In Britain, freedom from religion through science = freedom for economics and, hence, economic (capitalist) growth.


In Ireland, by contrast, freedom from science through religion = freedom for politics and, hence, political (republican) growth.


In America, freedom from politics through economics = freedom for science and, hence, scientific (technological) growth.


In my ideal society, by contrast, freedom from economics through politics = freedom for religious (transcendentalist) growth.


Thus a series of dialectical alternatives for growth based on the Nietzschean not ‘free from’ but ‘free for’ dictum which underlines contemporary civilization.  My own position is the last in the dialectical chain of events which should culminate, with religious sovereignty, in ‘Kingdom Come’. 


Now, frankly, I do not see why Eire, which has disastrously experimented, through Fianna Fàil-led governments, with the false ideal of economic growth, should not be among the first countries to adopt it, given the need to restore confidence and dignity to politics by rejecting this economic falsehood and using the democratic process not, as before, as a vehicle for political growth, especially in relation to hard-line or radical republicanism, but as a means to religious growth with Social Theocracy and its ideological concomitant of religious sovereignty should the people vote, or be given the chance to vote through a rejuvenated political arena, for what I have always considered to be the ultimate sovereignty and, in a special sense, sovereignty to end all (lesser) sovereignties, including the political which, alas, appertains to the ‘world’ as the republican concomitant of chemistry over the pseudo-economics (socialism) of pseudo-physics in what would be a catholic-derived tradition.


* * * *


Feminism, or female liberation, allowed for the encouragement of the female virtues of Beauty and, to speak in simplistic parallel terms, Strength at the contemporary expense of what the opponents of ‘moral relativism’ would call Knowledge and, to a limited extent, Truth, those male virtues characteristic not of will and spirit but of ego and soul.


And yet the distinction between Knowledge and ‘Truth’ , physics and ‘metaphysics’, was itself morally relative, along Protestant (puritan) and Roman Catholic lines, as is the contemporary one, to continue speaking in simplistically parallel terms, between Beauty and Strength, metachemistry and chemistry, and this distinction is more pronounced than ever in the dichotomy between say, cinema and television, or films and episodes of a drama series, which are more inclined to some exemplification of strength (not least in apprehending criminals) than to the exemplification, cheerleader-like, of beauty through action-packed free will.


But wherever there are hegemonic virtues, whether female or male, noumenal or phenomenal, unequivocal or equivocal, there will be subordinate pseudo-virtues appertaining to the ‘upended’ gender in each case, be they (the pseudo-virtues) pseudo-beauty under ‘truth’ (Truth per se having been alien to Western civilization), pseudo-truth under beauty, pseudo-strength under knowledge, or pseudo-knowledge under strength.  All such pseudo-virtues also factor-in to the overall elemental or axial equation, and are if not equally then unequally representative of ‘moral relativism’.


But if there is to be an end to the contemporary female-inspired varieties of ‘moral relativism’, it can only come from Truth per se and thus true religion, which I have identified with Social Theocracy and its ideological bias towards religion (metaphysics) at the expense of pseudo-science (pseudo-metachemistry) in the overall structure of noumenal centrism, the ‘true’ as opposed to ‘false’ (phenomenal) centrism that will serve both God/Heaven and the pseudo-Devil/pseudo-Hell of the Centre proper from an administrative aside comprised of the Social Theocratic leadership.


The thing about Truth is that it understands metaphysics for the transvaluated element it is, in which Soul is the principal attribute or elemental fulcrum, and therefore from which there can only stem a ‘bovaryized’ form of ego equivalent to super-ego or superconsciousness as merely godly proof of the heavenly kernel, or essence, of the Soul in joy.


Therefore no Heaven, no God, or godliness, since the notion of God independent of and anterior to Heaven is completely false and a consequence, I believe, of the Devil-the-Mother-hyped-as-God-the-Father Lie that metachemically antedates Western civilization as an extrapolation from a Middle Eastern anchor, so to speak, which exemplifies the same somatic, or bodily, character traits in its idols as would characterize the somatic predominance of the absolute star, call it superstar, and ensure that, just as beauty precedes love in metachemical free soma, so the false notion of truth preceding joy in metaphysics, or God preceding Heaven, derives from this basic fact of the precedence of Hell by the Devil, of a loving Hell-the-Clear-Spirit by a beautiful Devil-the-Mother whose ‘increase and multiply’ ethos continues to scientifically dominate religion and to ensure that it remains false to itself and in no position to exemplify Truth as an expressive or, rather, impressive consequence of Joy. 


Religion, my friends, is about Heaven, and until we can establish ‘Kingdom Come’ through the exploitation of political freedom where that is possible, as hopefully in Eire and other such countries where the Church has long been behind political liberation (from imperial interference), the contemporary forms of ‘moral relativism’, coupled to what could be called their traditional, or ‘bourgeois’, forms will continue to prevail, world without female-dominated end.


Therefore I say unto you, let us take up the challenge of religious liberty and struggle for that very godly reflection of Heaven which is the rightful destiny of life in Eternity, and remember that there can be no heavenly salvation of males or, rather, of pseudo-physical pseudo-males to metaphysics where the chemical female has not been consigned, in counter-damnation, to the pseudo-Infinity of a pseudo-hellish pseudo-devilry in pseudo-metachemistry, pseudo-angelically neutralized, for ever more, under the saintly heel, so to speak, of the Elect of Soul.  This is what noumenal centrism will serve, if given the opportunity to in and as ‘Kingdom Come’.


London 2009-10






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