14-22/05/13
God (or godliness) dwells in Heaven, as Adam in
the Garden of Eden, that rather poetic concept of
Therefore it is blatant nonsense to equate the
creation of the Cosmos, the Galaxy, the Solar System, the Earth, etc., with
God. Actually, it is worse than nonsense, since a kind of sacrilege. God in
Heaven begins, in a manner of speaking, with Adam in the Garden … and also ends
there. Everything else is ungodly, unheavenly, and therefore profane. In fact,
whatever is not associated with existential being, whether in terms of doing,
giving, or taking, has nothing to do with Heaven, or the possibility of
Paradise, but is either of life behind and over 'the world'
(doing) or of life in 'the world' (giving and
taking), and is therefore of autocratic, democratic, or plutocratic tendency as
opposed to – and in effective rejection of – theocracy.
Life in general, as of 'the world', the Earth,
the Solar System, the Galaxy, etc., is comprised of diverse factors which, in
the main, have nothing to do with God, much less of God in Heaven, since life
is a composite of everything that exists or could ever exist, including, to be
sure, elements which are divine. But to equate God, or
godliness, the condition of bearing witness to Heaven, with the creation of the
Cosmos, the Galaxy, the Earth, etc., as though it were commensurate with 'the
Creator', and everything therefore reflected Divine Creation, is, in my
opinion, akin to a species of blasphemy, of 'doing down' the concept of God to
suit agendas which are if not metachemically contrary to anything godly and
heavenly in metaphysics, then certainly beneath it, like chemistry and physics,
politics and economics, the contexts of giving and taking par excellence.
Godliness is found in Being, as in
Heaven, and nowhere else!
Religions either associated with what rules
over 'the world' in autocratic fashion or with 'the world' (not the Earth, or
the world/planet in general) as a plutocratic end-in-itself (barring 'the
sub-world' of a radical social democratic nadir of state-hegemonic axial
criteria) are necessarily heretical and false.
Only that religion which does not either rule
'the world' or make 'the world' an end-in-itself but regards it, on the
contrary, as an imperfect means (from a male perspective) to a better world,
otherworldly in character that, with God in Heaven, or truth in joy, is the
true end of life, the goal of existential being for males or, more correctly,
for pseudo-males to become supermale (supermen), can be in any degree true
and worthy, in consequence, of religious respect.
Such a religion is – or was – Roman
Catholicism, which is axially contrary to the Protestant descent, via Lutheran
schism, into state-hegemonic/church-subordinate heresy, and the rule, in
consequence, of autocracy over a world dominated by plutocracy for the mutual
exploitation of what would become, with the decline of Catholic influence, the
democratic, or lapsed-catholic masses.
I was always, after having been sent by my
mother to a Protestant-run children's home, a reluctant Protestant; for I knew
that, before having been dispatched to institutional care at around the age of
ten following the death of my conservatively Catholic grandmother, I had been
raised as a Catholic, even serving as an altar boy in the local church in
Aldershot, and could not accept the uncatholic attitudes and practices to which
I was subjected by those responsible for my care.
Now, of course, I am a self-professed Social
Theocrat, a believer in the desirability of religious sovereignty as the kind
of sovereignty, necessarily ultimate in character, appropriate to 'Kingdom
Come' for those who are worthy of it, and am therefore scornful of both
Catholicism and Protestantism alike from what is effectively a Superchristian
standpoint, none of which would have transpired but for the paradoxical, even
contradictory, nature of my upbringing at the hands of others in a land not of
my choosing.
Do not speak to me of churches, priests,
bibles, prayer books, hymnals, scriptural exegesis, etc., or of worshipping at
the throne of 'Almighty God', 'Creator of Heaven and Earth', a 'jealous God', a
'wrathful God', 'the Omnipotent', 'the One God', fount of all tyranny and
social enslavement! As long as I hold to the Truth, which is metaphysical, your
lies are powerless to change the course of my existence and have me subject to
falsehood, to whatever vitiates and corrupts religion, giving it a bad name. If
your 'God' isn't already dead, he/she soon will be. For the Truth will kill him
or her off, making it difficult if not impossible for what is untrue to prevail.
Protestantism may have blinded me to
Catholicism, as to my Catholic childhood, but it opened my eyes to the lies of
Christianity and made me reluctant to embrace it. Such reluctance, however, was
not without value; for it paved the way for the discovery and endorsement of
Truth, which philosophy and philosophy alone made possible, and Truth is
nothing if not the light of the Centre, faith in and loyalty to the Centre, not
least in respect of the Self, the Soul, whose inner flame burns with a luminous
if not numinous glow the core of which can never be seen but only felt as supreme beingfulness.
If I am true to my centre I shall be joyfully at one with myself, my soul, and
in that I can know, beyond knowledge, the Holy Soul of Heaven. Being true to myself
in the soul is 'the Garden', the Centre of Truth whose light reflects the
lightness of existential being in the paradise of self – a paradise not of this
world and not available or possible to women, who would resist it.
Only the Superman can take up the Supercross,
and the Supercross presupposes the co-existence, on subordinate gender terms,
of the pseudo-Superstar of the counter-damned pseudo-Superwoman – the
neutralized 'dragon' under the 'saintly heel', the pseudo-metachemical
counterpart of metaphysical bliss.
Pop Art certainly had its fair share of
arseholes, but the biggest arsehole of them all was undoubtedly Andy Wahol,
whose 'paintings' were so stereotypically populist and mechanically banal that,
no matter how appropriate to the age, one hesitates to apply the term 'art' to
them. Even when that moron spoke it was as though he had an arse for mouth.
Wahol may have taken advertising to a new level, but he didn't do anything to
enhance the reputation of art, least of all in terms of the quintessentially
contemporary arts of cinematography and photography.
From William Blake to Peter Blake – from the
sublime to the ridiculous, or 'high art' to 'pop art', on the downhill path of
British painting, as of the decline of British civilization from the Reformation
on down to the secular present.
Normally I am reluctant to wear my spectacles,
no matter how spectacular they may appear, out-of-doors because the lenses are
so thick, so strong, that it is like looking through the proverbial wrong end
of a telescope at people and objects so reduced in scale as to appear
diminutive. You could, of course, argue that there is an advantage in this,
certainly as far as most people are concerned, and I would be the last to deny
it. But even so, I prefer to wear contact lenses in public, since the ensuing
perspective more accords with reality, being approximately according to scale.
Best of all for reading, especially anything in
small print, are one's eyes unhampered by either glasses or contacts but simply
being what they are without recourse to so-called corrective lenses. For
neither spectacles nor contact lenses are much use, I find, for small printed
words, whether in books, leaflets, newspapers, on CD and DVD cases, notice
boards, or whatever. What I do, whenever possible, as with a book, is simply to
hold the printed material up close to my eyes (I am profoundly short-sighted)
and proceed to read in what seems to me like a more intimate manner, especially
congenial with a book whose glossy or smooth pages not only look good but smell
good as well. One such would be Matthew Teller's
Did you know that LSD was accidentally
discovered in 1938 by a Swiss scientist by name of Albert Hofmann? Well, now
you do!
How nice – at least in theory – to have a place
of one's own in the Upper Engerdine region of Graubünden, like Nietzsche, or in
the Ticino, like Hesse. Somewhere like Sils Maria or Montagnola, in other
words. Somewhere well away from the mad hammering of workmen in cities that,
like
Seiend – probably my favourite German word. Treue
Seiend. Even better!
Switzerland is such a complicated country, with
its various cantons, communes, etc., that even the Swiss don't understand
themselves, except possibly when they abandon Swiss German (in its numerous
dialects), Swiss French, Swiss Italian, and Romansh for English, thereby
achieving the rudiments of a lingual consensus.
I think it just a matter of time before English
becomes the lingua franca not just of Europe but of
It is better to die fighting your enemies than
to live running away from them.
Physical pain that is not associated with
mental tension, as a kind of overspill, is for me pretty much the exception to
the rule. Which, in some respects, makes me reluctant to think, even though I
consider myself a thinker.
With an off-white television standing atop a
black stereo stack, or midi tower, it could be that I have achieved the media
equivalent of a glass of stout, even though I rarely if ever drink the stuff,
especially since – quite apart from the fact that my father evidently drank it
in abundant quantities – it connotes, in my imagination, with the notion of
'liquefied priest', that is, of a white collar above a black cassock or vest,
hovering there like a halo.
Most people's survival in this world is
premised upon the extent to which they are useful to somebody or someone else.
I have always been reluctant to be of use to others, especially when they are
manifestly predatory and simply out to exploit one for purposes of material or
social gain, as is generally the case in
Byron – that drunken, womanising aristocratic
sonofabitch who paid for his folly with an early death at, if memory serves,
thirty-five. No merit in that, little merit in him. Just another fool dying
young.
Shelley, with those ridiculous forenames of
his, also died young (from a drowning accident) but was nonetheless less of a
fool than Byron, as, for that matter, was the consumptive Keats, whom a former
acquaintance of mine once described as “a tit”. Be that as it may, Keats was no
Byron, but a half-decent sort who simply came to grief through ill-health. The
Scotsman Byron was a poseur who died not fighting the Turks, as legend would have us
believe, but in consequence of a fever.
Of latter-day poets who died young, Jim
Morrison would probably be the nearest equivalent to Byron, given his tendency
towards drunkenness, debauchery, political controversy, and, well, general
mayhem. His premature death at twenty-seven was even sooner than Byron's.
The godless cosmopolitanism of those foreign
workers who would exploit the secular 'ideal' of free enterprise, under the
auspices of some laissez-faire regime, to callously and almost cynically tear
apart and refurbish from scratch whatever the Darwinian struggle for survival
demanded, irrespective of the cost or consequences for themselves and others.
Such is the nature of the age, with its so-called 'open society' policy of
letting loose any number of mercenary elements upon the unsuspecting indigenous
populations if it is in the financial or material interests of the governing elite
to do so. Something akin to imperialism in reverse.
In a religious age, on the other hand, you
struggle towards an omega point, if necessary at the expense of inferior
religions or peoples of lesser faith, thereby effecting true evolutionary
progress. Even the Nazi struggle against Communism, fuelled by Nietzschean
theories of the Superman, can be seen, albeit through the distorting prism of
twentieth-century secularity, in this light, since there was more at stake here
than mere survival – a theory more to be identified with the subhumanist untermensch,
and hence Communism, than with anything deriving, in evolutionary vein, from
Nietzsche's übermensch.
Nazism – and to some extent Fascism (whether or
not you crudely lump the two together generically) – was the last stab at
religious evolution before the curtain came down upon a world destined, under
allied pressure, for secular cosmopolitanism and the free enterprise to which
one has become so brutally and almost resignedly accustomed, thereby permitting
the survival antics of the 'fittest' to ride roughshod over religious and
cultural sensibility, to the detriment of evolutionary progress. It is not
Nietzsche and Spengler, but Darwin and Marx whose shadows stretch over the
contemporary world. And that is a world I find myself most reluctant to live
in!
Freedom for all, the 'free for all' of do-ers
and givers and takers to exclude being and thus hold religion at
bay, if not in contempt, whilst the survival of the fittest, strongest, most
ruthless, predatory, secular, somatic, etc., manifestations of freedom take
precedence over the others or, rather, over the givers, since it is the axial
polarity of the do-ers and takers on the state-hegemonic axis that combines to
exploit, for predatory gain, the plight of the givers, bereft, in such a
secular age, an age of 'freedom' determined not least by a republican socialist
agenda, of any prospect, as things stand, of religious deliverance (from 'the
world'), and therefore of that salvation of males or, more correctly,
pseudo-males which would alone constitute the possibility of evolutionary
progress for them towards the omega point of beingfulness, as it were, in
'Kingdom Come', thereby returning civilization to the cultural heights from
which it fell into barbarity and philistinism once true progress – as the great
Baudelaire himself would have understood it – had been eclipsed by the false,
and effectively devolutionary, progress of the mere struggle of the Many for
survival under the competing flags of secular freedom and a generally outgoing
disposition.
But any such evolutionary progress, premised
upon inner values, towards the omega point of Being that one has identified
with Salvation requires the corollary, in counter-damnation, of
counter-devolutionary counter-regress towards the pseudo-alpha point of
pseudo-Doing, if the proverbial 'lion' is to 'lie down' with the 'lamb' and the
latter be spared the consequences of predatory imposition, an imposition not
unconnected, in human terms, with what I habitually term a XX-chromosomal cosh
which, pending any prospect of eschatological neutralization, will continue to
get its way, thereby perpetuating 'the world' and another generation destined,
on an even more overcrowded planet subject to Darwinian criteria, to repeat the
errors, with regard to the presumed desirability of freedom, of their secular
forebears, much as the do-ers and takers in particular would be loathe, one
might even say reluctant, to admit of error in this respect, since they are the
ones who, under the flag of secularity, take the right of predatory survival
more or less for granted, even as a matter of necessity, never supposing that,
from a truly civilized standpoint, they could be wrong, never mind be
overhauled in the decades or centuries to come.
Alas for them, they are indeed morally wrong,
and one day they will be
overhauled and effectively consigned to the rubbish bin of secular history by
those engaged in the struggle, through a new kind of 'holy war' against the new
kind of 'infidel', to bring about the true peace of 'Kingdom Come', the peace
that will be the fruit of evolutionary progress in the 'Superman', 'Second
Religiousness', the 'Omega Point', etc., for all Eternity, Otherworld without
repetitive-time End.
But the peace of the metaphysical (from
pseudo-physics) can only be established, remember, on the basis of the
neutralization of the pseudo-metachemical (from chemistry), for all
pseudo-Infinity, pseudo-Netherworld without spaced-space End.
Hence the 'Superman' presupposes the co-existence,
a plane down, of the 'pseudo-Superwoman', 'Second Religiousness' the
co-existence of what might be called 'Second pseudo-Science', the 'Omega Point'
the co-existence of the 'pseudo-Alpha Point', and so on, in the necessary
co-existence of evolutionary progress with counter-devolutionary
counter-regress, or 'lamb' with (neutralized) 'lion', the 'lion' that 'lies
down', a pseudo-metachemical plane below metaphysics, with the 'lamb' (of
godliness in metaphysical heaven) only because it has no other choice, no
freedom, but to do or, more correctly, pseudo-do so, in consequence of the
triumph of Being.
Gossip is the revenge of the mentally inferior
upon the mentally superior.
Some writers – poets in the main – are
evidently inspired by Nature. I am not one of them. Confronted by Nature I tend
to recoil in horror, as from a threat to my very existence. In fact, I can only
conclude by saying that rather than being inspired, I would be more likely to
expire when under threat from Nature, in whichever of its diverse predatory
manifestations, not excepting women.
I overheard someone at the bus stop, the other
day, saying to his girlfriend: “We move (or live) at the speed of technology”,
which seemed to me, though apparently not to her, a pretty interesting not to
say profound observation.
Certainly one can be moved by technology,
whether or not one moves at the speed – always variable – of technology,
depending on its mode.
Is there anywhere in this infernal city where
you can actually get away from noise, as from other people? I have yet to
discover anywhere. And as for Pascal's dictum about staying put in one's room
(or flat or whatever), what use is that when noise accosts one on all sides or
one is subject to the intrusions of nosy neighbours who, especially in the case
of psychotic females, have an aversion to intellectual activity, whether one's
own or anybody else's.
Nowadays even public libraries can be
infernally noisy, with kids running around screaming and shouting, with doors
being slammed, phones ringing, women chattering away to one another like they
were at a market or even crèche, which, in a sense, they effectively are. Also,
I might add, a kind of circus.
But all this is in hock with the times, with a
female-orientated age of so-called equalitarianism in which kids are an
integral part, not to be sidelined or constrained by male egos or intellectual
pretensions. Now that you can rent CDs and DVDs from public libraries, as well
as use computers, I guess you have no choice, as a male, but to accept the downside,
fanned by ethnic pluralism, of what is, after all, a public institution.
Yet I can still remember a time when silence in
public libraries was de rigueur, a more or less
mandatory requirement of one's visiting them, and one was at least guaranteed a
modicum of peace and quiet, the more so as the library had several departments,
some of which would have been almost exclusively the preserve of women and
children.
My local library, however, is not so fortunate,
being one fairly large elongated room divided into several sections, and
therefore noise from some of the sections is, alas, inevitable and, frankly,
inescapable. Perhaps the solution, in this case, would be to use substantive
earplugs, as well as to be careful as to which days of the week and at which
times of the day one bothers to turn up.
When it comes down to it, there is no getting
away from the fact that some people, for whatever reasons, are just pests.
So long as you have people who blindly follow
criminal ideologies, like Marxism and Communism, with a mandate to expropriate
the so-called bourgeoisie, or owners of industry in a manner which puts even
the phrase 'biting the hand that feeds one' in the proverbial shade, a
fascistic backlash will not only be inevitable, but morally desirable, if only
to prevent the worse-case scenario from coming anarchically to pass and
spreading farther afield.
The same is true when you have people who
violently turn against the Catholic Church from a standpoint less Protestant
(though that can obtain) than Marxist or even atheist. Mere violent revolution
is not the solution to the problem, from a civilized standpoint, of outmoded or
anachronistic institutions like the Church, even if violence is sometimes
inevitable in the struggle against State tyranny or repression, and largely, I
believe, because the fundamental dichotomy between State and Church is one of
gender, as between female and male, soma and psyche, body and mind. Violence by
males is more usually directed at the intransigent concretions of alpha-stemming
institutions, like the State, simply because, like females, certain things are
not open to discussion or peaceable reform but are implacably what
they are – at least in the case of the more authoritarian and
sometimes tyrannical manifestations of the State, as of state power, such that
can only inflame male opposition and lead to if not culminate in violent
revolution, all the more so when such a situation is in consequence of imperial
imposition by peoples at gender loggerheads with those who would resist state
tyranny from a standpoint orientated towards the Church, though not, of course,
the deferential or correlative church of the state-hegemonic (or tyrannical)
power, but one, on the contrary, which is incompatible with state-hegemonic
criteria because manifestly church hegemonic and requiring a deferential if not
subordinate correlative state in what could only be a society characterized by
the dominance, overall, of male criteria … of subjectivity at the expense of
objectivity, psyche at the expense of soma, truth at the expense of beauty,
soul at the expense of will, and so on.
Thus the struggle, traditionally, of the Irish
against the British, of Catholics against Protestants, of Republicans against
Monarchists, bearing in mind the state-subordinate vis-a-vis state-hegemonic
distinctions obtaining between Catholic-deferring Republicans and
Monarchy-subjected Protestants, is one between two axially incompatible
orientations which, short of a stalemate or hold-off, allows little room for
political or religious compromise. A divided society is not a nation, but the
consequence of imperial imposition by a power which, in Britain's case, is
state hegemonic, and therefore such a society remains ideologically anomalous
until dealt with in a manner befitting the interests of the greater number
within the country as a whole.
'The Good', as in goodness, are usually
reactionary; that is, 'the Evil' act, and they find themselves obliged to react
to it, as justice to crime, or righteousness to vanity. Without a 'good'
reaction to an 'evil' act, the latter would go unpunished, and 'the world'
would soon be transformed into the playground, as it were, of Hell, with the
devil's evil everywhere triumphantly free to do its undamndest.
The reactionary struggle of good against evil
may not lead to 'Kingdom Come', and hence to the triumph of grace and wisdom,
but it at least prevents 'the world' from becoming overly partial to the rule
of evil and crime.
Awoke early this morning (20/05), which happens
to be a Monday, in nervous anticipation of the return of the workmen at 8 a.m.,
to carry on from where they left off last week. And, sure enough, a loud crash
followed by a series of even louder crashes heralded the start of a fresh
campaign of low drilling, ferocious hammering, and what may well have been a
soldiering iron or something rumbling and rasping away with a monotonous
consistency that, coupled with the other noises, was so immensely annoying that
I just had to scramble out of bed to pen these exasperated lines in my front
room (living room). Really, there ought to be a law against this kind of
inconvenience! But no, they are free to carry on in this fashion for as long as
it takes – and who knows, with these kinds of stupid people, exactly how long
it will take?
Football, that epitome of lower-class
godlessness, with no points over the crossbar, as though between Gaelic
football-like uprights. In fact, so unlike both Gaelic football and Hurling,
those quintessentially Irish field sports which even continental Catholics
cannot match, never mind Scotch or English ones.
How anyone with any degree of religious
self-respect could possibly bring themselves to head a ball, as in football, I
absolutely fail to understand. To me, heading the ball in football, or
so-called football, is a further confirmation of its inherent godlessness,
turning the head into another means of scoring goals, not to mention defending
from would-be goal-scorers, putting the ball into touch, or even of 'passing',
or transferring, the ball from one player to another on the same side,
something which, when I was young and obliged to play football, I was always
somewhat reluctant to do, even contriving stratagems by means of which I could
avoid bringing my head – destined for intellectual greatness – into direct
contact with the ball, particularly when, as in those days, it was a heavy
leather-clad one.
Once, I had the ball kicked into my face from
close range and, I can tell you, I still shudder with dread when I think about
it! Frankly, football is not a game that I would encourage anyone to watch, and
I am only too relieved that, not being married, I don't have a son who would be
exposed, at school, to either football or rugby (that other English game) and
inevitably require some deference, if not amateurish coaching, from me. Thank
god I remained single! Although living, as I have been obliged to, in
The British, when they are not cravenly
sucking-up to their royals, are busily levelling everybody down to the mass
level of some humanist and/or subhumanist common denominator appropriate to an
acquiescence in games like football.
Forsaking God, or the possibility of godliness,
humanism was always going to lead, one way or another, to worship of the Devil,
that is, to an acquiescence in metachemical objectivity, if from a standpoint
centred in physical subjectivity, the alpha-deferring ego of the mass
humanistic whose egotistical exploitation of spirit leads to an exclusion of
soul and, hence, the possibility of salvation.
Whereas Britain is a nation divided into three
countries (England, Scotland, and Wales), Ireland is a country divided, thanks
to British imperial imposition, into two nations (the Republic of Ireland and
Northern Ireland), neither of which, however, are ethnically homogeneous.
The equalitarianism of man (a dangerous
philosophy) can have no place in the inequality between man and God (or
godliness), and for that reason societies based on humanistic equalitarianism,
whether liberal or social or a paradoxical combination of the two, turn away
from religion in pursuit of secular values. But such values only lead in one
direction: downhill.
If they are 'up to no good' it must be because
they are 'down to something bad'.
Equalitarianism, stemming from the bourgeois
philosophy of liberalism, tends to lead, sooner or later, to unisexual
tendencies, not least in respect of females dressed in or, rather, wearing
trousers and/or jeans, roughly corresponding to a liberal/social distinction.
But what does that signify?
Equality of the genders? Or simply a post-heterosexual predilection that would
be compatible, did they but know it, with varying degrees (liberal/social) of
buggery or sodomy. For how can you approach a jean-wearing female, say, from a
heterosexual standpoint? Not that I, as someone of Irish Catholic descent,
would be the slightest bit interested in buggering or sodomizing anybody. But a
female who wears trousers or, especially, jeans, with their proletarian
connotations, is open, whether she knows it or not, to so-called 'anal sex',
and would have no real grounds, least of all sartorial, for pretending
otherwise. Dressed like a male, she deserves and, indeed, wants to be treated
like one, with all due equalitarian implications.
I can recall, from when I worked in an office
back in the early 1970s, girls who wore jeans virtually every day. Even one of
my girlfriends had a habit, I remember, of only wearing jeans, and it wasn't
long, with nothing much happening on the sexual front, before I dropped her, preferring
not to have a girlfriend at all than one who only wore blue denims.
Certainly, I would never have considered
buggering her, even had I been partial – as I was not and never have been – to
the use of condoms. For when you use condoms it matters little, it seems to me,
into which orifice you insert yourself, and that is one of the reasons why I
have always detested them, preferring celibacy to mere carnality and
debauchery. Better no girlfriend at all than one whose sartorial appearance
invites you to demean yourself! After all, what could be more demeaning, not to
say revolting, than to insert yourself into somebody's back passage, their
rectum via their anus, as if it were a legitimate sexual organ having
reproductive associations instead of being part of an organ, the bowel,
designed by nature for the excreting of excrement? That, for me, is a
rhetorical question. But it wouldn't necessarily be so for everybody, least of
all in a society, or so-called civilization, which is inherently corrupt and the
bitter fruit of somatic degeneration, like a social democratic nadir to liberal
democratic criteria more openly identifiable with heterosexual and/or bisexual
norms, at least within a bourgeois, largely Protestant-derived ethnicity owing
much, if not everything, to state-hegemonic axial criteria, as deriving from
schismatic heresy back in the sixteenth century.
Somehow, I could never escape the feeling, when
I was young, that people were unconsciously and perhaps, in some cases, even
wilfully placing obstacles in my way when it came to sex, and that the society
I was living in was more consciously anti-natural than natural, given to the
discouragement of one's natural sexual inclinations rather than to encouraging
them, as though putting up the barricades against someone of Irish Catholic
descent, with a circumcised penis, who might prove a subversive threat, for
want of natural corruption, to their mostly anti-natural souls or, rather,
egos.
For the soul is largely irrelevant in a society
beholden, from a physical/pseudo-chemical gender integrity, to
metachemical/pseudo-metaphysical domination by persons closer in spirit, or
more correctly through the exercise of will power, to the Old Testament than to
the New or, for that matter, to any Marxist degeneration, atheistically, beyond
the New Testament to the 'bible' of class hatred between proletarians and
bourgeoisie, that is, of the proletariat for the bourgeoisie, out of which
emerges not only social democracy but all its concomitant attributes in relation
to sex, clothes, mode of transport, type of literature, music, art, sculpture,
and so on.
Clearly, a jean-wearing female is a product of
this degenerative and fundamentally criminal class war whose unisexual mode of
dressing has logically entitled or condemned her to a correlative mode of sex,
or so-called sex, that, even as a youth, I wanted absolutely nothing to do
with, quite apart from any obstacles certain others might place in my way.
Consequently I spent my youth devoid of sexual
relations and, as I am still living in England and, more precisely, in London
at the time of writing, in which criteria appropriate to the southeast point of
what I have termed the intercardinal axial compass still exist, and do so,
needless to say, in relation to a polarity which is the root guarantor of
state-hegemonic axial criteria, it need not surprise the reader when I confess
that I am still as celibate today, at sixty, as I was at the age of sixteen, an
age when most other people are committed to sex, or to the pursuit of sexual
relations, like at no other time in their lives. And being celibate, I am, of
course, well qualified on the messianic front to document Truth and to think
and write truthfully about matters which the axially corrupt either choose to
ignore or gloss over and regard with a kind of matter-of-fact resignation to,
if not acceptance of, what are perceived to be hard-won freedoms which one
ought, irrespective of any logical or even practical evidence to the contrary,
to be thankful if not grateful for – thankful, in other words, that man is
still 'calling the shots' and there is no need, in consequence, to fear the
inequality between man and God, even if, ironically, the manifest inequality
between man and the Devil (Devil the Mother) is still very much a factor to be
reckoned with and even deferred to from standpoints beholden to the reign of
free will and the correlative exercise of state-hegemonic authority.
This evening (22/05) the sunset had a wonderful
deep orange glow to it which bathed the horizon which I contemplated whilst
lying on my bed and listening, appropriately enough, to material from Tangerine
Dream's Oasis album via the
micro-headphones of my mobile phone. I can't say how much I appreciated the
calm breathing which this combination of factors made possible, all the more
gratifying since the house next-door was no longer crawling with noisy workmen.
At least they go away in the evenings …
That pro-Left, pseudo-right wing,
pseudo-economic-son-of-a-political-bitch whose name alludes me, though I know
for a fact that he is a pro-Republican kind of Socialist with a chip or perhaps
even chipmunk on his shoulder.
