GREEN
NOTEBOOK 1
A cultured
life tends not to be influenced by the weather but, come rain or shine, gets on
with what it does indoors irrespective of what is going on without.
I believe,
as a kind of bohemian intellectual and artist-philosopher, that I am one of
those upper-order classless people who fits in
nowhere, since a congenital outsider who prefers, when not thinking about
himself or his philosophy, to observe the world from a private distance.
I visit my
ageing mother with a certain trepidation, since her
facial ugliness and physical decrepitude are such that, in spite of every
effort to be polite and concerned, I am positively disgusted, revolted, and
filled with all manner of social reservations. The description 'old hag' would
not, I fear, be inappropriate, although she still has the rudiments of a 'kind
heart', even if it happens to be laced, on occasion, with sarcastic asides and
cynical innuendos. But, really, I should be grateful, at sixty, that my mother
is still alive and that I have at least one contact in
People are
so glib about calling 'bums' those whom they know little or nothing about and
would probably be unable to comprehend or understand even if they were of a
mind to, which is unlikely, to say the least, given that the world only goes
around, as Baudelaire sarcastically reminded us, by misunderstanding and, if I
may say so, the incomprehension of people for one another which, bad enough
within ethnically homogeneous national bounds, becomes even more pronounced in
an age of international cosmopolitanism.
Women are
like Black Holes, sucking in weak or deluded males and then raging, with
Quasar-like intensity, before spitting out the light of reproductive heat in
the throes of motherhood. This may be 'Creator-esque',
but it has nothing whatsoever to do with God, or with what is godly. On the
contrary, it is the metachemical antithesis of
metaphysics, as Devil the Mother of God the Father, or Hell the Clear Spirit of
Heaven the Holy Soul. Like it or not, life for most people is simply a mirror
image, on the microcosmic scale, of the Galaxy, reflecting on a more natural or
corporeal basis what tends to occur supernaturally, in the alpha-based ethereal
heights of galactic subatomic fusion and/or fission.
Females
preside over what is devolutionary, in atomic reflection of subatomic activity,
rather than, like some males, over what is evolutionary and therefore tending
towards either metaphysical independence of the metachemical
or, in the corporeal realm, physical independence of the chemical. In both
cases, it is the psyche which, whether in ego (corporeal) or soul (ethereal),
physics or metaphysics, constitutes an evolutionary opposition to the
predominantly devolutionary nature of soma, whether in will (ethereal) or
spirit (corporeal), metachemistry or chemistry, since
whereas soma, being more closely associated with the body, is objective, psyche
is subjective and therefore the necessary precondition, through mind, of
evolutionary progress, in contrast to the devolutionary regression of soma.
Baudelaire
was right about 'true progress' being inner, since it is that alone which
constitutes an antithesis, whether phenomenal or (more genuinely) noumenal, to the regressive nature (outer) of devolution
and of all things female. However, I would be the last person to settle for a
simple devolutionary/evolutionary antithesis. For where there is devolution,
whether noumenal or phenomenal, ethereal or
corporeal, there will also be pseudo-evolution, pseudo-subjectivity to
objectivity. And where, conversely, there is evolution, again whether
phenomenal or noumenal, corporeal or ethereal, there
will be pseudo-devolution, pseudo-objectivity to subjectivity. In either case,
the 'pseudo' is gender subordinate to the genuine, as a pseudo-element to an
element, existing on an immediately lower plane to the hegemonic factor, be it
objective or subjective, female or male. Hence pseudo-metaphysics under metachemistry, as pseudo-time a plane down from space, and
pseudo-physics under chemistry, as pseudo-mass a plane down from volume, where
the alternative (noumenal or phenomenal) forms of
devolution and pseudo-evolution are concerned. And hence pseudo-chemistry under
physics, as pseudo-volume a plane down from mass, and pseudo-metachemistry under metaphysics, as pseudo-space a plane
down from time, where the alternative (phenomenal and noumenal)
forms of evolution and pseudo-devolution are concerned.
Whereas the
objective female is somatically free, the pseudo-subjective male, a
pseudo-male, will be pseudo-psychically bound (in his preponderating ratio
factor of psyche to soma). And whereas the subjective male is psychically free,
the pseudo-objective female, a pseudo-female, will be pseudo-somatically bound
(in her predominating ratio factor of soma to psyche), pseudo-binding being, in
either case, the product of hegemonic pressure from the free element, that is,
the gender existing a plane up from its correlative pseudo-gender in the
pseudo-element, whether in terms of absolute (3:1) or relative (2½:1½) ratio
distinctions of soma to psyche or, conversely, of psyche to soma.
******
William
Burroughs that dope-fiend faggot with an obscure style of convoluted writing
that came to a head in 'novels' like The Naked Lunch and The Soft Machine, both of which I laboured over as an
author-besotted youth without making any appreciable progress. Certainly Junkie was comparatively more
accessible, though still quite obscure and even esoteric in places. Burroughs
was never an author I could warm to, being, in any case, so technically and
socially cold.
Allen
Ginsberg, though also obscure and a faggot, even an unapologetic 'arsehole',
was nonetheless of considerably more interest to me than Burroughs. But one
would have to be Jewish, I believe, to really have any prospect of penetrating
the obscurities and complexities of his mature poetry, whether with regards to
publications like Howl, Kaddish, Reality Sandwiches, or Planet News, all of which I laboured over in my youth. His
early work, like Empty Mirror, was
certainly more accessible and even intelligible. But as he matured, his style
became correspondingly more prolix and its content at
times extremely difficult to fathom. Some of it was, frankly, revolting in the
degree and nature of its obscenity, and I never did have the same respect for
Ginsberg as transpired with the likes of Gregory Corso
in Gasoline or Lawrence Ferlingetti
in Pictures
of the Gone World, both of
whom were lyrically effusive and full of a metaphorical mastery that seemed
positively magical against the backdrop of an expansive formal structure quite
unique to poetry.
Another
American author I didn't much like was Norman Mailer, who struck me as somewhat
akin to Ernest Hemingway in his alpha-male persona as a boxer and sports
enthusiast, the sort of persona I detest in a writer, even one as sophisticated
as Ezra Pound, and deem to be at loggerheads with true literature and genuine
artistry, whereby the writer distances himself, as an intellectual type of
artist, from all things athletic and merely physically competitive. Norman
Mailer, like Hemingway before him, was fundamentally a philistine who simply
subverted literature from a standpoint owing more to journalism than to art,
with little one could consider worthy of lasting literary respect. Though I quite admired his second novel,
The same
could not be said, however, of Henry Miller who, although given to the
subversion of literature as narrative fiction, was no philistine but at heart a
real artist who aspired to being a writer with a capital 'W' like,
in his deferential estimation, the great Irish Writer, James Joyce. Although
most of Miller's best work was arguably done in Paris, especially with Tropic of Cancer and Black Spring, he continued, even with his more
America-oriented books like Tropic of Capricorn and,
subsequently, The Rosy Crucifixion Trilogy ('Sexus', 'Plexus' and 'Nexus'), to be at or near the cutting-edge of
American literature, a writer worth reading if only because he turned
literature on its head, as it were, and made of himself, his personal history
and experiences, the principal protagonist of virtually all his major writings,
with the possible exceptions of The Colossus of Maroussi and A Devil in Paradise, which portrayed, in fairly narrative vein,
a Greek (George Katsimbalis) and a Frenchman (Conrad Moricand) from two very different, even contrasting
viewpoints. Now given that Miller was essentially an artist, with a discerning
aesthetic temperament, and not, like Hemingway or Mailer, a philistine
journalist in literary disguise, one can forgive him for writing the way he
did, and even find inspiration and encouragement for writing in a similar,
albeit inevitably independent, vein oneself. Henry Miller means more to me than
any other American writer of the twentieth century, and whilst writers like
Henry James and Aldous Huxley will always be of
literary significance, if only as chroniclers of bourgeois decadence, both
socially and spiritually, it is to Miller one must turn if one wishes to have a
subjective portrait of mid-twentieth-century civilization in both Europe and
America that is laced with much autobiographical reminiscence and not a little
poetic inspiration and literary or cultural criticism, as well as topped off
with an arresting degree of what could be called religious or metaphysical
speculation concerning the future.
Jack
Kerouac, whom many would regard as Miller's literary successor, wrote such
novels as On the Road and The Dharma Bums on the wing, as it were, without undue
hesitation or reflection, as though life were a train ride through the world
which had to be documented en passant
and therefore as spontaneously as possible with what little time the pursuit of
other pleasures left to one who, as an American, was always in a hurry and
incapable of or indisposed to leisurely reflections, grammatical niceties or,
indeed, the slightest regard for literary convention. Kerouac rushes you along
at breakneck speed, if not exactly breathtaking pace, and you either ride with
him on this never-ending freight-train journey across the vast expanses of the
American plains or you fall off and are left to pick up your wounded pride and
develop reservations about reading such writers, whose novels take the term
'avant-garde' to a whole new level, beyond even the most subconscious
spontaneity of Andrι Breton and his Surrealist followers or imitators. Kerouac
is smart, make no mistake about that, but he is also a bum and a fag moreover,
so think twice before climbing onto the bandwagon of twentieth-century literary
degeneration and its downhill rush towards literary oblivion such that leaves
you feeling cheated and somehow debased, cheapened, coarsened by these
sophisticated cowboys of the so-called 'beat generation'. This is not classic
literature; it is effectively pop literature, the equivalent of Pop Art,
beneath even the bourgeois decadence of Henry James or the petty-bourgeois
philistinism of Norman Mailer. A kind of proletarian barbarism that assaults
literary taste and makes you pine, paradoxically, for some kind of filmic or
cinematic release.
Were one to
describe the poet Kenneth Rexroth as the 'father', through his poetic
obscurantism, of the 'beat generation', or poets like Allen Ginsberg and
Gregory Corso, then I think it only fair to describe
Ezra Pound as the 'grandfather' or even 'godfather' of that generation, since
his Cantos, the late-period economically-charged rambling verses
of a 'Tower-of-Babel'-like lingual complexity teetering on the brink of
madness, arguably paved the way for the 'babbling towers' that, principally in
the guises of Rexroth and Ginsberg, were to advance the degenerative process of
American poetry towards a homosexual dead-end (fag-end?) from which, even now,
it hasn't really recovered, except in respect of the unashamedly heterosexual
musings of 'rock poets' like Bob Dylan and Jim Morrison, surely the only
credible antidote to what preceded it in the turgid informality of the 'beat
poets', whose jazz-inspired poems rarely danced to the regular beat of rhythmic
percussion the way the poetry of the 'rock poets' does, thereby switching the
axis to one that can only lead inwards and upwards when given sufficient
encouragement from a messianic standpoint.
******
The last
major war in
The Centre,
which I associate with Social Theocracy, should not be thought of as the
synthetically artificial equivalent of a Black Hole or Quasar but, rather, as
the antithesis to such an elusive entity, tending towards the centripetal and
all that contrasts, in evolutionary convergence and expansion, or expansion
through convergence, with whatever contracts and diverges, or contracts from
divergence, in devolutionary vein. The 'Celestial City' equivalence of the
ultimate Space Centre, the future successor to the contemporary Space Station, will
doubtless expand through the convergence upon it of the various centres
throughout the world, which would have to be accommodated in such fashion that
they did not circle the principal or initial Centre, like so many stars or
planets circling a Black Hole/Quasar, but were somehow assigned to it as an
expansion, through convergence, of the central axis, the true Omega Point to
which all smaller centres should be drawn, having been provided with devices
that enabled them to 'lock on' and thereby become part of the ever-expanding
Universal Centre. This, truly, would be the antithesis of a Black Hole, since
manifesting, through centro-complexification (Teilhard de Chardin), the
attainment, by degrees, of centripetal subjectivity, as far removed from
centrifugal objectivity as anything could ever possibly be.
You get
sucked-in to a human 'black hole' (woman) only to be shredded and spat out in
transmuted guise, when it comes time for the 'black hole' to transform itself
into a quasar-like body emitting light as the basis of a new star (child). I dunno, but one senses a blueprint of sorts for what goes on
down here, on Earth, on a kind of extrapolative or attenuated basis.
Oh, that
beautiful Quasar, so lit up and so different from the 'dark side' in back, the
ugly Black Hole that appears to stand in a subconscious relationship to the supersensual effulgence or luminosity of the light-emitting
Quasar! Her soma is beautiful alright, and probably loving to boot, but her
psyche, corresponding to a Black Hole, is dark and ugly, even hateful, and you
have to be weary of getting sucked-in to it or of the possible consequences of
reacting against it!
He didn't
like them 'coming on' to him with reproductive intent, but remained unusually
reserved in his demeanour, always ready to 'hose down' a potential threat to
his peace of mind.
Could it be
that Quasars precede Black Holes rather than emerge from them? Or give rise to
a situation in which Black Holes form as a kind of psychic dustbin for all that
is in supersensual rotation about a fixed point and
cannot but suck-in surrounding gases or stellar clusters? At any rate, I have
long maintained that, on the female side of the gender divide, soma precedes
psyche, not least in metachemistry, the fiery element
par excellence, where one would
have, with noumenal absolutism, a 3:1 ratio of soma
to psyche in the form of supersensuous to
subconscious, or supernatural to subnurtural, so to
speak. It is not, in that instance, a case of light out of darkness, light
emerging from darkness, but rather a case of light giving rise to, or
engendering, a certain kind of darkness which is both independent of and
distinct from mere nothingness, the empty void of inter-galactic space. By
itself, space is neither dark nor light, black nor bright,
but only becomes recognizably dark in relation to the light of stars and, most
especially it would appear, of quasars. You cannot have darkness before light,
or the bound before the free. Only the light of freedom establishes the
darkness of binding, whether in soma (female) or in psyche (male), with
correlative types of bound psyche (female) and bound soma (male). So, if this
theory is correct, why should not Quasars precede Black Holes, making for a
special kind of darkness distinct from the nothingness of space? I rest my
case.
I have long
believed that Sigmund Freud's emphasis upon the subconscious at the expense of
nay, to the exclusion of what I call the supersensuous
to be philosophically (though not necessarily psychologically) erroneous, because
too partial
to do justice to the totality of (metachemical)
factors in which one can, to be sure, posit the existence of subconsciousness, but only, in philosophical terms, as an
adjunct to physiological supersensuousness, the
factor that, with respect to the female or objective nature of metachemistry, precedes, as free soma, a bound psychic
concomitant in the guise of the subconscious, with a correspondingly absolute
(3:1) ratio of the one to the other, as of the 'super' to the 'sub'.
******
Cigs, cans,
fags an unholy trinity of Social Democratic degeneration.
Music is
our defence against noise, the heads side of the coin of what is often
chaotically loosed upon the airwaves.
Weak noise
might sometimes approximate to music, but weak music invariably approximates to
noise.
Living in a
twisted society where the Dream had been betrayed must surely be worse than
living in one which never had a Dream at all (but is/was crassly materialistic
and realistic). Strange that it is the latter type of society which caused me
to dream the Ideal principally for those who are sick of living in a twisted
society, the result, in most respects, of alien interference and the legacy of
imperial imposition.
There are
no posters, paintings, sculptures, flags, icons, idols, etc., more hateful to
me than those espousing the cause of hammer-brandishing workers.
Secularity
has divested the term 'idol' of any moral opprobrium, making it natural and
even admirable to idolize someone or, worse, something, like a pop star or a
football team.
Those
heathens are only too ready to bow to the ungodly designs of the wilful scum
who rule over them from a standpoint based in somatic licence.
One can see
where the want of religion and respect for the soul actually leads. Certainly
not forwards.
Many want
to be liberated from worldly bondage and netherworldly
tyranny, but few are willing to pay the otherworldly price and make the
necessary sacrifices.
I watch so
little television it always amazes me that I continue to pay the licence fee,
which I tend to do by quarterly direct debit. In fact, it scandalizes me that I
should continue to pay it when I rarely watch anything, preferring to watch and
re-watch (any number of times) my favourite DVDs, most of which are quality
German-language films, Austrian and Swiss included.
Unlike
Communism Soviet Communism in particular Nazism (not to mention Fascism in
general) never went in for iconographic or sculptural monuments. There were no
huge iconic reproductions or statues of Hitler, the way the 'great leaders' of
the Communist world were idolized and monumentally reproduced for the dubious
benefit of the slavish masses, which, to my mind, is just as well. Most of
these idols, including the ones of Lenin and Saddam Hussein, have since been
consigned to the 'rubbish bin of history', as fitting testimony to the folly of
communist or socialist idolatry and the transience of tyrannical control.
******
Women are a
restless lot, constantly plotting and scheming how to get or extend power over
men. For me, they give the terms 'agitation' and/or 'agitator' not least in
respect of so-called agents provocateurs or agit prop a bad name, as something or somebody to despise
for constantly stirring-up trouble like women!
No man who
is really a man, or properly male, should ever be an agitator. Rather is it a
condition to be associated with long-haired youths, and then only in certain
circumstances or as the unsavoury corollary of a collegiate lifestyle in which
egotistical leaders emerge from the 'herd' to direct and guide it on some
ostensibly revolutionary path.
I always
despised political agitators, finding in them little that was
truly or recognizably male.
Males who
want to be like women are they not the most despicable from a male standpoint?
Not letting
you be but
needling you to what purpose? Put simply, power.
To gain power over you in the hope of making you an adjunct to their
reproductive needs which, sad to say, is the basic meaning of life (for women),
with anything deeper a male conceit or wish.
******
Christianity
inherited wine from the Romans and turned it to religious account or, at any
rate (for the Romans were not adverse to identifying
the consumption of wine with religious rites), to what one would identify,
through the Mass, with Christian usage. And the result, even when this usage
has been attenuated or modified to suit other alcoholic tastes, has been a
civilization fixated on alcohol and prone to alcoholism and other related forms
of self-abuse. Christ himself cannot be exonerated from being in some degree
responsible for this sorry state-of-affairs, which will doubtless continue so
long as Christianity, in some form or other, continues to exist, as it does
even in these so-called global times. Like it or not, alcohol does more harm
than good, and anybody who thinks otherwise must be either mad or stupid, and
almost certainly sick.
How can a peasant read the 'Word of God', or what passes for
such? Few peasants in the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, when the
Reformation was in full swing, would have been able to read anyway but, even
supposing some could, what right would they have had to stand on equal terms
with God, presuming, for the sake of argument, that a degree of metaphysics had
been invested in this term and it wasn't wholly metachemical
(like Devil the Mother hyped as God the Father) or partly chemical (like the
so-called Mother of God) or partly physical (like the so-called Son of Man)?
Strictly speaking, God and man are unequal entities, as, on opposite terms, are
the Devil and woman, and you cannot have equality between what is unequal. What
you can have is the debasement
of terms like God to the level of man (Son of Man, God as Man, etc.), and then
you don't really have religion, whether in fundamentalist falsity or
transcendentalist truth, but merely some degree of humanism or, in the case of
woman, some form of pantheism, with worldly implications that soon lead to
irreligious practices of an economic or a political order. Which
is precisely where we find ourselves today, except that economics has joined
forces with science to combat and exploit politics. And the rule of
science, as of fundamentalist falsity, means that there is little room, as
things stand, for religion, and hence the prospect of transcendentalist truth,
a factor crucial to the extrication of politics from the predatory grips of
science and economics, and for the possibility, under Social Theocracy, of
'Kingdom Come'.
******
I tried to
enjoy myself, but there was always too much crap around, pulling my soul down
into the mud of their democratic or plutocratic licence, where the
lowest-common-denominator of promiscuous filth prevails.
If I were
to attempt a definition of how a homosexual drinks, I would imagine him as
drinking straight from a can of stout or perhaps even brown ale, without
recourse to a glass. If, on the other hand, I were to attempt to define how a
paedophile drinks, I would imagine him as drinking straight from a can of lager
or perhaps even pale ale, without recourse to a glass. Either way, I would
conceive of these degenerates in relation to extra-parliamentary social
democracy on the one hand, that of the homosexual, and extra-parliamentary
democratic socialism (republican socialism) on the other hand, that of the
paedophile, with an axial distinction between degenerative Protestant (Puritan)
and degenerative Catholic (Marian) types of degeneration which would correspond
to the respective nadirs of state-hegemonic/church-subordinate and
church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axial criteria, as in the case of a
British/Irish ethnic divide, and this contrary to what are usually perceived as
being representative of this distinction, as when Britons are identified with a
predilection for lager and the Irish with a predilection for stout. Be that as
it may, logic suggests otherwise, and I firmly believe that a connotation can
be posited between canned stout and homosexuality on the one hand, and canned
lager and paedophilia on the other hand, as though in a distinction between
sodomy and pederasty, with the usual four-letter connotations that would merely
confirm what I am contending, especially when paedophilia is conceived as
implying illicit sexual relations between male adults and juvenile girls.
Degenerative
modes of consuming alcohol (for that is what drinking from a can actually
amounts to) could be construed as being indicative of a degenerate sexual
predilection, whether licit (homosexual) or illicit (paedophile), in the
persons concerned, though it would, of course, be another thing to prove it!
But if a parallel does in fact exist, then such modes of consuming alcohol
would be no better than their corresponding modes of sexual degeneracy, and
should accordingly be viewed with contempt by those who neither approve of nor practise either sodomy or pederasty. For drinking
straight from the can is the mark of an 'arsehole' or, as the Germans say, ein arschloch.
Even if your sexual persuasion is
not to bugger the shit out of another man or to fuck the piss out of a little
girl, which I would guess is pretty much what homosexuals and paedophiles tend
to do, you are little better than that if it is your habit to drink straight
from a can of stout or, alternatively, a can of lager. Either
way, you are an 'arsehole', and your behaviour is despicable from the
standpoints of the bottle-fearing, heterosexual majority, who oppose degeneracy
in sexual as in other matters, including, not least, radical forms of social
democracy and democratic socialism. And so they should!
Of course, you might add drinking
beer directly from a bottle to the above, though whether, depending on the type
of drink, that would make for a higher class of homosexual and/or paedophile is
a moot point. One could argue that this is less significant of somebody who is
an 'arsehole' than of somebody who is a 'prick', given that bottles cannot be
equated with a female sexual receptacle, like glasses, into which the drink is
poured, and may well suggest, in the context alluded to, an active rather than
passive sexual disposition. There may also be a sense in which bottles more
approximate to a psychic correlation than to a somatic one, making them not
only correspondingly more male but also relative to a church rather than to a
state bias. However that may be, the liberal heterosexual will normally pour
from the bottle into a glass in the presence, most especially, of women,
thereby replicating or intimating of coitus, not drink straight from the bottle
like a 'prick', who may or may not be a sodomite or pederast, though could well
be one who engages his female partner in anal sex. Which leaves, I suppose, the
possibility of bisexuality in connection with a tendency to drink straight from
both bottles and cans (though obviously not at the same time), like somebody
who is into acoustic bass one moment and electric bass the next, or whatever. A
not untypical aspect, presumably, of what Jung would call 'civilization in
transition', though I would be less generous.
******
Men can live perfectly happily, in
a manner of speaking, without a relationship. Women, on the other hand, cannot.
That is the problem.
One thing I have never done is to
write for money. Writing for money is to turn your back on Truth, or the
possibility of enlightenment through metaphysical knowledge, which is also the
possibility of meaningful work. It is to 'sell out', and in all 'selling out'
(to commerce) there is a loss of soul (the price to be paid for 'selling out')
and therefore a want of nay, an incapacity for Truth, that is, of
metaphysical self-knowledge and its joyful reward (heaven). The abuse of soul
through religious corruption is one thing; the abandonment of soul through
economic greed is much worse, since it leaves one with no hope of a better
world, but only with a different stake in this one, ruled, as it is, by will.
Great minds are as abhorrent to the
small-minded as small minds to the Great, albeit from entirely different points
of view.
People in general live for the
body, not the mind, which is held against anyone who happens to be one, as
though he were a sexual deviant or some kind of 'nut'. After all, is not
'mental' a term of abuse to those who are physical and who take their
physicality for granted? In other words, the great majority.
To be sure, the term 'mental' is up against it from a physical standpoint, as
are males from the standpoint of females and, these days more than ever, the
church from the standpoint of the state, which seeks freedom from church
interference or regulation in the interests of unrestricted physical, or
somatic, licence, the crux, if I am not mistaken, of what the term 'free world'
implies, a 'world' that is overwhelmingly secular in its plutocratic opposition
to autocratic excesses and indifference, if not hostility (deriving from a
largely Protestant tradition), to theocratic ideals, which exploits the
democratic masses, and indeed the concept of democracy itself, to maximize the
freedom of the rich.
Religion is the consolation of
losers, including those who are too self-respecting to 'win', that is, to
succeed on worldly or netherworldly terms,
sacrificing soul for the benefit of material gain.
Do you really think the tables can
be turned on women, the primary sex, whose will and spirit, hailing from a
vacuum, objectively dominates life? Even I, as someone who has drawn up a
blueprint for 'Kingdom Come', even I have certain reservations!
Take a look at the world around you
and tell me what you see. Would it not suggest that most men are only too ready
to serve a woman's reproductive needs?
They say faith can move mountains,
and it would certainly take a lot of faith to move the mountain of female
status in society from a position of domination to one of gender subordination
to the hill of male liberation. Meanwhile, most males are resigned to being
slaves to female dominion, working to finance their romantic prospects or, in
the event of matrimonial commitments, to support their family.
Marriage is designed to secure a
stable future for any prospective offspring, tying the male surname not just to
his wife but also to his children and thus ensuring, if not guaranteeing, the
latter a degree of parental responsibility which so-called 'free love' would
most likely fail to provide, with the male 'taking off' at the first whiff of
being 'tied down' and rendered financially and paternally accountable. Which is
precisely what marriage is designed to do except in the case of my father,
who 'took off' even though he had married my mother and officially bequeathed
his surname to me, something for which I have never been particularly grateful,
not least for having been brought from the Republic of Ireland to Great
Britain, with the return of my mother to England, and subsequently having had
to grow up and live in England with a very Irish surname ever subject to
mispronunciation by non-Irish people, and not just Britons! That sonofabitch O'Loughlin would have
a lot to answer for! Unfortunately for me, however, he died back in
******
Visited the park with three ponds
and one lake a lake for sailing toy boats that has the look, in its
shallowness, of a gigantic puddle surrounded, on all sides, by at least nine
weeping willows and sundry other species of deferential tree. But what matter,
even though you rarely see any toy boats on its lake, Broomfield Park in
Palmer's Green, London N13, is pleasant enough as parks go, and one is glad, on
a warm day, of the cool breezes which waft across the watery expanses of, in
particular, two of the rustic-looking ponds that pay host to a plethora of
ducks and geese!
In Britain, to paraphrase Stendhal,
the hammerer 'walks proud', compliments, I dare say, of the democratic
levelling that the nonconformist (puritan) types of Protestantism led to in
opposition, it would seem, to the kingly Anglicanism that, as the original type
of English Protestantism, was not motivated, as in Germany, by a
Luther-inspired grass-roots opposition to papal excesses, but simply followed
from kingly expediency, and remained aloof, in consequence, from populist
tendencies.
The renaissance decadence of the
papacy certainly played a part in the development of the so-called Reformation
in Germany as a protest against papal excesses and the age-old practice of
indulgences, but once you are committed to the Protestant cause you have to
carry on protesting against Catholicism even after the Church had begun to 'clean
up its act' with the Counter-Reformation. All that pseudo-pagan excess of the
Renaissance, including the Old Testament predilections of Pope Julius II and
his gifted protιgι Michelangelo, all that pseudo-return (well before fascism)
to the apparent glories of ancient Rome, the eagle raised predatorially
and imperially 'on high', the naked statuary of the 'body beautiful', the 'body
muscular', all that anti-Christian, anti-Crucifixional
decadent filth might be in the process of being censored, doctored, modified,
even repudiated, but still there is no going back to the 'one true church',
given the enormities of what had transpired and the fact that there could be no
guarantee, even after Pope John IV and Loyola, that something similar would not
return, with aristocratic insouciance, to tarnish the standing of Catholicism
once again. Once the cat of Protestant protest had been let out of the
proverbial bag, there could be no getting it back into the bag again, the bag
of Catholic acquiescence, since far too much had happened in the meantime, too
many lives had been blighted or lost in the struggle against corruption for a
return to the pre-schismatic position to be possible. Protestantism must
continue to protest even when the anti-Christ epithet applied, with no little
justification, to various Renaissance popes could not, with equal
justification, be applied to most of the popes who followed the
Counter-Reformation and continued to live austere, ascetic, celibate lives.
Therefore the protest becomes more hollow or, in the
event of the 'Vicar of Christ' being credibly Christian, simply irrelevant, and
Protestants, rather than protesting against Catholicism, act, to all intents
and purposes, as though Catholicism didn't exist and was, in any case,
irrelevant to their religious beliefs. Which may well be the case, only
Protestantism will continue to exist so long as Catholicism exists and has not,
democratically and responsibly, been consigned to the rubbish bin of religious
history. For only when it has
been superseded (as by Social Theocracy) will there be any prospect of bringing
Protestantism to an end, thereby enabling what, in religious terms, really
leads nowhere because rooted in a protest against the abuse of what does
actually tend, axially speaking, in the right direction for any prospect of
otherworldly criteria, centred in metaphysics, to transpire, only not, by any
means, far enough and therefore with a metaphysical shortfall (done down
pseudo-metachemically as a false ne plus ultra) by dint of an Old
Testament allegiance to the beauty and love of metachemistry
in back of the Christian both Catholic and Protestant manifestations of
Western civilization, like a Judaic anchor to the ship of Christianity floating
on a Judeo-Christian tide within the parameters of 'the world'. It takes more
than a protest against Catholicism to set men free of such an anchor and to
construct the spaceship that will ultimately enable them to leave 'the world'
behind for truly otherworldly climes which will be so far beyond the worldly
status quo as to have no allegiance whatsoever to the quasar/black hole-like
entity that apparently rules over it from a position owing nothing whatsoever
to metaphysics and everything, by contrast, to metachemistry,
to whatever pertains to Hell in the Devil, to both love in beauty (free soma)
and hate in ugliness (bound psyche), with the latter subordinate to the former,
like a black hole of subconsciousness to a supersensuous quasar whose frantic swirling cosmic dance
lures not only weaker stars, but also weaker men away from the prospect of
Eternal Life towards certain psychic death upon the somatic flames of female
seduction. That, more than anything, is what is most anti-Christ, precisely because it is of Devil the
Mother/Virgin, the Creator-esque 'Almighty' behind
heathen/pagan life, behind the sucking in and spitting out, through
reproduction, of more of the same, generation after generation, world without
sexual end.
All this can and, I believe, should
be countered, in the name of God in Heaven, not just illusion in woe (bound
soma) but also, and more importantly, truth in joy (free psyche), with the
former subordinate to the latter as subsensuousness
to superconsciousness. But only the 'resurrection' of
the church-hegemonic/state-subordinate axis will enable the process of
countering it, as germane to the inceptive phase of 'Kingdom Come', to begin in
earnest, and to preclude, moreover, anything so despicably anti-Christian as
the decadence of renaissance papacy from ever occurring again, much as what has
since stemmed, in secular licence, from the Protestant schism is arguably far
worse, if the current ungodly state of the Western world is anything to judge
by! For 'free enterprise', while it might be independent of Catholicism and religion
generally, is by no means independent of that embodiment of free will which
rules over 'the world', as over the Galaxy, from a standpoint with no
otherworldly pretensions whatsoever, since the epitome of everything netherworldly, of fast doing as opposed, in metaphysics, to
light being, of Devil the Mother as opposed to Heaven the Holy Soul.
******
The quickness of the supersensuous vis-a-vis the
hotness of the subconscious in metachemistry;
The slowness of the sensuous vis-a-vis the coldness of the unconscious in chemistry;
The heaviness of the conscious vis-a-vis the hardness of the unsensuous
in physics;
The
lightness of the superconscious vis-a-vis
the softness of the subsensuous in metaphysics.
The masses don't and can't
understand genius. They have to take it on trust, through faith. It would also
be fair to say that, generally speaking, the masses don't like genius, not only
because they cannot understand it, but also because it suggests privilege and,
what's worse, some kind of creative or moral or intellectual or cultural
superiority, which is virtually anathema to those who are inferior in such
respects.
Whether the top of the hierarchy
happens to be king or pope, metachemical or
metaphysical, of Hell in the Devil or of God in Heaven, autocratic or
theocratic, alpha or omega, scientific or religious, of the State or of the
Church, objective or subjective, a hierarchy is crucial to dealing with what's
high, since it cannot be comprehended from below, that is, from the standpoints
of the masses. Only that which is closer to either Hell in the Devil or God in
Heaven can act as a link or conduit to metachemistry
or metaphysics, as the case may be. For there is no way a lowly creature like
an artisan or a peasant, much less an industrial worker, could commune with
what is 'On High', any more than he could be expected to commune with kings or
popes. Only in an overly worldly age or society does the justification of
autocratic or theocratic hierarchies cease to have any meaning or relevance,
and we get republics of one kind or another that signify a levelling down or,
more correctly, an exclusion, as far as possible, of hierarchy in the interests
of an egalitarian reduction to the lowest-common-denominator of democratic
and/or plutocratic criteria designed to preclude a return to social
inequalities. But sooner or later such plebeian or proletarian societies have
to allow for a new order of social inequality if they or, rather, things in
general are not to bog down in equalitarianism and simply stagnate. For a
worldly society, based in the masses and excluding, as far as possible, Hell in
the Devil or God in Heaven, love in beauty or truth in joy, will necessarily be
limited to the mundane criteria of men and women, of what could be called Woman
in Purgatory and Earth in Man, strength in pride and pleasure in knowledge,
neither of which are of much use to the other, but have need, like vegetation
and water, to be either ruled by fire or led by air, ruled by love in beauty or
led by truth in joy, else there is no hope of either promotion or salvation, no
prospect of a 'better deal' such that would release them, one way or the other,
from worldly bondage (posing as freedom) to a life of either infinite freedom
or eternal peace, somatic action or psychic being. Verily, when life is
reduced, with republics, to the domination of chemistry or physics, it can be
only a matter of time before the desire for metaphysics or metachemistry,
depending on the context, becomes so pressing that the lid of worldly repression
is blown off by popular demand, following a referendum or major shift in voting
practices. Ironically, it is equality that, when all's said and done, is the
People's worst enemy, not those who would rule or lead them from higher, if
incompatible, standpoints. For you cannot have both Hell in the Devil and God in Heaven, metachemistry and
metaphysics. Which is why axial differentiation between two
types of 'High' and two types of 'low' becomes inevitable, quite apart from the
gender differentiation characterizing each.
Any attempt to bring God down to
man is doomed to failure, because you end-up with man (humanism) and not God
(transcendentalism). Conversely, any attempt, through some messianic
equivalence, to bring man up to God would be doomed to failure Catholic
hierarchies notwithstanding were man not earmarked, under some kind of
messianic auspices, for transmutation (transfiguration) through 'man
overcoming' (transcendentalism coupled, for females, to pseudo-fundamentalism
or, more representatively, to pseudo-materialism) in relation to alternative
kinds of cyborgization intended to 'turn the tables'
on the objectively-dominated outer world in the interests of a
subjectively-oriented inner one.
Fundamental to the more chemical
woman is the most chemical (metachemical) woman, whom
we can call Superwoman. Transcendental to the more physical man is the most
physical (metaphysical) man, whom we call Superman. Superwoman and Superman are
as incompatible as metachemistry and metaphysics, supernature and, for want of a better term, supernurture, as that which is above chemistry (water) in
its fieriness and, by contrast, that which is above physics (vegetation) in its
airiness. In either case, a differentiation between female soma and male psyche
in both relative and absolute, phenomenal and noumenal, corporeal and ethereal contexts.
The metachemical
expresses itself through the exercise of willpower,
the metaphysical impresses itself, by absolute contrast, through the exercise
of soulful contentment. Such noumenal absolutes,
which are 'meta' or 'super', have to be differentiated from their phenomenal
counterparts whose relativity either expresses itself, in the case of
chemistry, through the exercise of spiritual glory or impresses itself, in the
case of physics, through the exercise of egocentric form.
******
A thinker needs an 'ivory tower' in
which to think his thoughts in environmental detachment from those who would
oppose and thwart his penchant for thought, thereby reducing his capacity to think.
Only a privileged existence allows
for any degree of meaningful or profound thought, an existence not at the mercy
of other people, especially unintellectual or
unintelligent people who, in any case, resent intellectuality.
All great thinkers, who are independent
solitary individuals, defy the heathenistic basis of
life in the 'central star' of the Galaxy, the quasar/black hole around which
other stars revolve, like gyrating male pigeons, and sometimes get sucked-in
to, as men can get sucked-in to women. Rather do they strive towards an
alternative centre, which is not of this world but not of the Galaxy either, an
otherworldly centre, by contrast, which is truly universal in its centripetal
totalitarianism and therefore antithetical to the false universality of the
Cosmos hyped as universe, to that congeries or countless multitude of galaxies
with their own quasars/black holes which occasionally spit forth new stars.
W.B. Yeats had a square, or
rectangular, tower at Thoor Ballylee
in
A thinker lives for his thoughts,
nothing else. For him, ideas are precious and of more value than money can buy.
They are, in a sense, priceless.
Looking down on the world of poets
and novelists and, across the axial divide, at the netherworld of dramatists
is something that can only be done from the otherworldly perspective of
philosophers, provided they are metaphysically genuine and not, like so many of
the so-called 'professors of philosophy', given to the subversion of
metaphysics through metachemistry, with its empirical
disregard for the thoughts of the soul, its pragmatic slavery to concrete
facts, its fundamental indifference, if not hostility, to Truth that owes much,
if not everything, to a love of Beauty.
******
I have never reserved a restaurant
table, but I reserve the right to write and publish the best of my thoughts in
the interests of Truth and the possibility of an enhanced appetite for
spiritual food.
In
If 'God' did make man in His own
image (to play with the myth for the sake of argument), it could only be a
certain higher type (metaphysical) of man who could conceivably commune with
Him, that is, on a largely metaphysical basis, not men in general who, for the
most part, are signally incapable of being metaphysical, especially those who,
deferring to all things metachemical, dress in
triangular garb. As for woman
I can always tell an enemy of
metaphysics by the way he dresses. Of course, there are direct and indirect
enemies of metaphysics, absolute (pseudo-metaphysical) and relative (physical)
distinctions that also have to be distinguished from shortfalls from
metaphysics which are at least deferential to it, if (from a pseudo-physical
standpoint in sin) imperfectly so.
What a pity that Luther, having
piously opposed what he saw as ungodly or unchristian practices in the Roman
Church, should subsequently succumb to an ex-nun and father six children! There
is nothing Christian, much less metaphysical, about that!
The rebirth of interest in Graeco-Roman antiquity, with its body-worshipping paganism,
so at variance with the crucifixional paradigm of
metaphysical bound soma, brought about the downfall of the reputation of the
Catholic Church and the consequent uprising of the Reformation which not even the Counter-Reformation was able to reverse. For by
then the horse had bolted from its stable, so to speak, and left much of
Christendom schismatically divided and torn asunder by bloody conflict, with
echoes that still reverberate down to our own time. But a 'true church' that
goes to the dogs (of Renaissance pseudo-paganism) is still preferable, once
cleansed and restored to some semblance of religious (metaphysical) health, to
a patently false church whose clergy can marry and beget children, thereby
reflecting what might be called the galactic world order of quasar-seduced
stars which revolve, like families, around the free female equivalence at its
core, whose somatic spinning of wilful antics engenders a psychic 'black hole'
out of which only ugliness and hatred (as of external attempts to constrain
somatic licence) can emerge, as the inevitable corollary, tails side to heads,
of the loving Beauty whose wilful actions suck-in whatever is vulnerable, for
want of a quasar-rejecting disposition, to being sucked-in, shredded, and spat
back out, following gestation, in the guise of a new-born star, or child
equivalence, dependent, thereafter, upon its maternal creator for protection
against the clamorous, upended falling stars whose psyches, or nuclear cores,
become paradoxically bound to the quasar's somatic gyrating as it spins on a
light-emitting axis of tremendous heat in an apparently never-ending cosmic
dance. A clergy that defies both this and any natural or human extrapolations
from it which mirror, on a devolved basis, what tends to take place more
fundamentally within the Galaxy as a whole are alone worthy of respect from a
religious, that is, reborn, transvaluated,
metaphysical standpoint, and have been honoured accordingly.
To be susceptible to the rule of
the galactic world order, as the majority of men (the masses) are, but to have
enough religious deference to be capable of regarding it as sinful
is the
mark of a true Christian, a Catholic, whose confession of sin to a priest, that
necessarily celibate individual closer to what is properly metaphysical, keeps
him in touch, no matter how imperfectly or intermittently, with the possibility
of godly redemption by and through a post-resurrectional
metaphysical Christ 'On High', whose return to the world in the guise of a
Second Coming will allow, in due course, for 'Kingdom Come' and the salvation,
in consequence, of the pseudo-physical to metaphysics coupled, it should be
added, to the counter-damnation of the chemical to pseudo-metachemistry,
so that one would end-up with a distinction, to speak in generalities, between
the Saved (in metaphysical free psyche) and the counter-Damned (in pseudo-metachemical pseudo-bound soma), with, in overall
metaphysical/pseudo-metachemical terms, a gender
distinction between Righteousness and pseudo-Justice, the Saint and
(neutralized) Dragon-like mainstream structure of 'Kingdom Come'.
******
I think Irish Catholics favour
stout over other beers because of the lightness and softness, those
metaphysical attributes, suggested by the foamy head and dark, blacked-out
body, a paradigm of free psyche and bound soma as male gender reality or, at
any rate, of what is properly male when hegemonic over females or independent
of female subversion. Moreover, fermenting at the top, stout ties-in with the
Catholic propensity for confession and some correlative priestly absolution,
symbolized, it would seem, by the foaming head on top of the pint.
Wine that's all body and no head doesn't make it for me. It bores me flat.
'Why can't I be God?' asks Alice
Cooper somewhat rhetorically in one of my favourite songs on his seminal album DragonTown.
Well, if you want an answer, it's this: It don't work
that way, man. Sorry, that's just the way it is.
Bringing Tangerine Dream to Virgin
was, for me, the best thing Richard Branson ever did while still boss at the
label, since, unlike most bands, Tangerine Dream have gone from strength to
strength over the decades and are still, at the time of writing (2013), going
strong, producing music that is not only unique but truly contemporary from the
standpoint of a kind of cutting-edge superclassicism
compared to which the traditional acoustic instrumentation of so-called avant-garde
classicism is a kind of anachronistic joke reminiscent of some dotard's
senility.
Rolling with the f***ing Stones is no easy ride, especially since it begs the
question: Will rock 'n' roll survive the Rolling Stones when, eventually, they
cease to roll?
When the roll is left out of rock
you get a decadent if not degenerate music suggestive of other than
heterosexual predilections.
When blues joins forces with rock,
as it does with musicians like John Mayall and Eric
Clapton, it becomes decidedly less blue and correspondingly more green, that
is, upbeat and positive, with greater commercial potential within a
contemporary mainstream musical format.
******
Communistic atheism is perfectly
intelligible within the urban context of the industrial if not industrious
proletariat of hammering workmen and such-like labouring creatures who would
probably not have any contact or relationship with what is properly god-like in
relation to heavenly metaphysics. As the degenerative nadir of
Protestant-derived state-hegemonic axial criteria, there can be no place for
'God building' (Lenin) in a society built around the industrial proletariat.
Only subservience, one might say, to a new kind of Devil, images of whom are
displayed in public to remind the atheistic masses of just who or, rather, what
is really in charge of their godless destinies under communism.
All great music, great rock music
not least, is largely a means of expression by males for males, since most
females signally lack a capacity to either appreciate or understand it. The
female who really 'gets into' the feeling of a rock groove and soars with the
guitar or keyboard or whatever solo to heights of instrumental exultation, with
some appreciation of the technical complexities involved where is she? Do you
know one? Have you met one? And if you had, would she not be a particular
exception to the general rule? And if she could play guitar, acoustic or
electric, with real feeling and a sense of inner groove, of rhythmic impulse,
would that not be even rarer? Being into great music is, by and large, the
prerogative of males, one might say a man's thing, not because women are
systematically excluded or discriminated against, but because, with some
discretion in this matter, they tend to exclude themselves, having little
capacity, in their reproduction-striving restlessness, for soulful reverie or
lyrical abandon. Rather does their talent lie in wilfully subverting it from a
vacuously-conditioned objective standpoint, as also in a spirited subversion of
ego, or the capacity to deeply reflect and thus think.
.
I doubt if I would be so anti-XX
('XX-chromosomal cosh' being a habitual term of mine) had I not been subject to
a life-long double exile (as from country and class) which leaves me with a
feeling that life is to be found elsewhere and merely endured where I am, stuck
in a sort of stateless, classless mire akin to a kind of limbo.
Usually I'm American during the day
(internet/rock music) and German at night (DVDs/grammar and/or travel books).
******
Beauty is just as virtuous as
Truth; only it appertains to a different order of virtue. Strength is just as
virtuous as Knowledge; only it appertains to a different order of virtue.
Strength is not as virtuous as Beauty, nor Knowledge
as virtuous as Truth. Beauty is the higher female virtue, Truth the higher male
virtue. Therefore while one can logically argue that Beauty is more virtuous
than Strength, and Truth, by contrast, more virtuous than Knowledge, one cannot
logically argue that Truth is more virtuous than Beauty, or Knowledge more
virtuous than Strength. Truth and Knowledge simply appertain to different
orders of male virtue. Now such orders of male virtue, going against the grain
of the natural world order, tend to be overshadowed by Beauty and Strength,
their female counterparts.
Summer is that dangerous time of
year (from a male standpoint) when women are more outgoing, and, as a man, you
could lose your head to a woman if you weren't especially careful and mindful
of your true interests.
Transcendentalism/idealism does not
directly triumph over materialism/fundamentalism but only indirectly, via the
salvation of pseudo-humanism/pseudo-realism to itself and the correlative
counter-damnation of naturalism/pantheism to pseudo-materialism/pseudo-fundamentalism,
in consequence of which materialism/fundamentalism would be damned to
pseudo-naturalism/pseudo-pantheism, and
pseudo-transcendentalism/pseudo-idealism counter-saved to humanism/realism,
pending further developments.
I once purchased online a DVD,
which I had supposed to be a film but turned out to be a seminar, entitled Evolve Your Brain, in which the speaker contended, after a few
preliminary statements about the brain's structure, that the female brain was
likely superior to the male one because it was all the time going backwards and
forwards in a more open or flexible manner. What? Did he not know, from
comparing the relative head sizes of men and women, that women had smaller
brains than men? And is it not men who 'lose their head' to a woman's body? As,
presumably, the speaker, a Dr Joe Dispenza, had done
at some point in his life. Certainly, women are clever at what they do, namely
to seduce and reproduce, but that, apart from knitting and sowing and cooking
and other things of a female nature, is all they have ever done really, so why
shouldn't they be? But when it comes to certain other types of cleverness,
including wisdom, vergiss es! Only
a fool would equate an onslaught of wilful action or spirited speech with
cleverness.
Not to succumb to the gravity of
somatic reaction but to carry on, willy-nilly, with one's psychic vocation as a
writer/thinker that is the daily challenge to which one must rise and
effectively slay the fire-breathing dragon all over again, reducing her to impotence.
He who can defeat the people,
slaying the dragon of their somatic reaction, is alone worthy of being their
master and leader.
Either you
slay the dragon on a regular, if not daily and hourly, basis, or the dragon slays you.
