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Literature is divided between those who write because they have something to say, like playwrights, and those who write to get their thoughts on paper (or on computer screen), like philosophers, with poets and novelists usually coming somewhere in between.

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The internet is full of braggarts who desperately want to offer you their wealth-producing systems. But why? Why should anyone want to offer anyone else a system that makes them wealthy unless 1) it no longer does so and they are anxious to make money from selling it or 2) it never made money at all and they are just confidence tricksters who hope to capitalize on the gullible by claiming to have made thousands if not millions from it?

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You can only lead what can be led (as from pseudo-physics to metaphysics). What cannot be led must be suppressed (as in relation to pseudo-metachemistry a plane down from metaphysics, as pseudo-space under time). Therefore metaphysics does not lead pseudo-metachemistry, even if it happened to be hegemonic over it; for pseudo-metachemistry would not wish to follow in the metaphysical footsteps, as it were, of those destined for metaphysics because capable of it. This is the real distinction between salvation (of the pseudo-physical) and pseudo-damnation (of the chemical) in relation to the element to which some can be saved (metaphysics) and the pseudo-element, by contrast, to which others would have to be pseudo-damned (pseudo-metachemistry), in a kind of counter-fall complement to a rise, before any long-term prospect, almost as a knock-on effect, of damnation and pseudo-salvation (if temporarily), or a fall and a counter-rise, could be anticipated in relation to the metachemical and pseudo-metaphysical vis-à-vis their polarities in pseudo-chemistry and physics respectively, the latter of which would continue, for a while, to be equivocally hegemonic over the former. But that is an entirely different axis from the one alluded to above, and movement would have to transpire on the one before there could be any prospect of subsequent movement on the other, as outlined in previous texts.

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Another day of struggle against the noise being generated by the 'class enemy' next-door, whose relentless hammering and hell-knows-what-else has now shifted to the rear of the house, mainly, it would seem, in relation to some kind of extension out back which they have been working on for the past few months in succession to what had been going on in the house itself for several previous months, not least in relation to the building of a kind of additional room or attic right next to my bedroom, which happens to overlook a number of back gardens. I am beginning to wonder whether it will ever end, this building noise, if there will ever come a time when no such manual work will be going on next-door and one can have a modicum of physical peace, even with thought-sensitive neighbours of foreign origin out to inhibit or censure every mental reflection on one's admittedly somewhat intellectual part. Somehow it seems to me that every place I have ever lived in in the London Borough of Haringey, whether in Stroud Green, Crouch End, Hornsey, or Harringay, has either been the scene of or right next to a building site, metaphorically speaking. It would appear to be a characteristic of urban life in certain areas that hammering and building work in general is a daily occurrence, with little or no reprieve or prospect of cessation for any length of time.

Urban environments and the urban worker, the proletarian, go hand-in-glove, and never more so, it would appear, than at a time when East European labour, released from communist fetters though by no means entirely independent of a kind of worker-proud socialistic mindset, is readily available and more than willing to do their building work – that is, indigenous and other workers or clients who may or may not have jobs that need doing – for them, and to do it, moreover, to a degree and in a manner that leaves no stone unturned, tearing the old building work down and more or less starting from scratch as though to wipe the slate clean of past associations and make the results more acceptable to the new breed of employers, entrepreneurs, or whatever. No wonder these jobs take so long to complete! But more extraordinary still is the fact that, even with possibly reduced labour costs in certain quarters, the overall cost of refurbishing or building from scratch must be astronomical. Just where is all this money coming from? And who is it that has so much of it in the first place? Not philosophical writers or intellectual artists like me, at any rate!

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You can take from the rich and give to the poor, but the rich do not become poor from giving nor the poor rich from taking, since the former are rich from Doing, whereas the latter remain poor from Being.

Doing to give is a female prerogative, taking to Be a male one.

Generally speaking, it is females who are rich (in will and spirit) and males poor (in will and spirit because partial to ego and soul, which, however, are constantly warred upon by will and spirit).

A rich man is really a bent male, a male who is effectively female in disposition, with an outgoing personality that tends to instigate where others, more circumspect or self-respecting, would hold back.

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Men would think more were women less inclined to oppose it from a standpoint rooted in objectivity and a greater tendency, in consequence, to talk and, not altogether surprisingly, to dominate such conversation as ensues.

The 'thinker' is most likely to be a solitary celibate – in short, a philosopher, but one who, in all probability, will still have to struggle more generally and, as it were, impersonally against female opposition, since such opposition, wherever it may come from, does not accept, as a fait accompli, the right of males to a philosophical independence of them, but rather serves to crush religious independence from a fundamentally scientific point-of-view.

To me, the Crucifixion is an icon, a token, if you will, of crushed religious independence, unlike the smiling Buddha, who would seem to be joyfully, even blissfully, independent of everything and everyone else in the most perfect form, from a human or quasi-superhuman standpoint, of inner sanity, which, to its detractors, will simply appear 'insane', a term congenial to those deferential to if not actively rooted in the outer form of sanity which has tended to condition the concept 'sanity' for generations past within the netherworldly-dominated world and world-view.

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Classical music into Rock Classical (not to be confused with classic rock) – a kind of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde transformation, wouldn't you say? Whereby musical subjectivity is undermined by objective tendencies characteristic of though by no means exclusive to rock 'n' roll. For we should not overlook the possibility, where the more blatantly objective types of Jazz are concerned, of a kind of Count or even Earl Hyde, should we?

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Once more, as for several days past, civilization is under siege, tested to the limit by the storming inclemencies of a Nature hell-bent on avenging herself on us for having spurned her in favour of urban detachment and urbane independence. Somehow civilization will survive, but at some cost. For the damage will be immense and thousands will be seriously inconvenienced, if not shattered or killed. Sometimes I think that what goes on without, with 'Mother Nature', is simply a grosser and more barbarously impersonal manifestation of what goes on within, with 'sister nature', on a more or less daily basis. And then, every so often, men get drawn into the conflict, and we end-up with a war, paradoxically advancing civilization on the most barbarous terms.

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