Where one suppresses oneself, there is tyranny present, a tyranny stronger than the collected sum of tyranny that all genocidal totalitarianisms ever could ecumenically muster.

Art is the accumulation of the finest human efforts, there are three of them: to create beauty, to identify it when one sees it, and to remain from resentfully - or carelessly - destroying it upon the realization that it can not be understood with reason: reason and art are at each-others throat, and the human being is a riddance between these pliers as if navel-dust.

Conformity is but a pathetic mimicry of genius, normativity a failed imitation of heroism.

the best thing ive done in a while - well, at least the gist of it, formatting will be required

Religion - insofar as it is a source of kinship; consolation; solace - is no religion at all, and it becomes a hindrance to true faiths, to all true faiths! The degeneration the role of religion from personal spiritual fervency into some materialistic community of tradition and ecumenical morality is one degeneration to pick from a bundle of many such, whileas modern atheism is an even further degeneration of this process of distillation, yet another degeneration of faith sincerely, which has undergone centuries, if not millenia, of tranformations and re-packagings - and they find within themselves the audacity and the hubris to call this abomination a purification - yes! I agree... a purification of filth into less filth... this atheism and the incredulity towards the unsensible, sometimes motivated by nothing grander than sheer, childish principle... the atheist sounds the trumpet of victory, blows futile the flute of contentment, and lets the shrill wines of those old, old things echo in the parts of themselves which was neither made by, or for, God in the first place - and they call that triumph! Indeed, for the soul unspirited with the divine, the religious person is but emptied of rationality, and for the soul ignited with the spark of something mysterious, of course, the atheistic person is quite ridiculous and even laughable for conluding such a thing about the one with eyes plied wide open to the void and the world... atheists: for these people whom the mystical part of themselves is rarely contended with, and for these clueless demagogues whose spiritual faculties have remained padlocked since inception, with the keys to them having never been bequeathed nor even stolen - who can blame them for their atheistic sensibilities, their rationalistic infatuations? It is not their fault, precisely, only their culpability, but it is fucking god damn surely not their victory either.

unedited draft, ponderings on 'Weilian' theology

First and foremost, this is written in memory of Simone Weil.
God created through a means of seld-delimitation, yes: due to the presupposition that God is originally all, God had indeed to create through withdrawal. God created man by ripping up a void in the cosmos, a void which we call the holy spirit, a restless presence bundled in flesh and sinew as to roam and vibrate with experience. Since we are these products of the withdrawal of divine influence, we are as well beyond the reach of divine providence: we are born into a sort of damned existence, a position of hopeless responsibility, for as we are nothing and as we possess no experience prior birth, we do not owe to original sin our sinfulness but to the actions we carve, as if chiseling solid rock, out of the void of inaccessible stars, parasitic posture and celebrity, divine and omnibenevolent perfection and into a most precious figurine - that of authenticity and rugged self-overcoming! Since we are a product of divine withdrawal, we are not holy, we are everything but holy by default, for if creation is indeed conceived this way, as necessarily containing the potential for evil - since we can not be holy, given the very absence of it, and therefore excused from evil - then there is no paradox of theodicy, because the human being is the entering-gate of evil into the world which was perfect before she found it lying around; this does not as well constitute a breach of God's omnipotence, since God is not within the human being, and therefore having essentially detached its own energy from it. A potent question arises: might a perfect God create an imperfect thing? I say, only from withdrawing out of the thing which it creates. 

God does not afflict suffering upon the human soul, God merely appropriates the proclivities of the human soul to detect it. God does not afflict; God merely reveals. A poem wroth with love may reveal to you the wisdoms of romance, but it is never the poem which breaks your heart and leaves your soul in weeping; likewise, a God wroth with love may reveal to you the fullest trepidations of passion, but this God does not create these delightful angsts of the soul, rather God breaks the mirror between worlds and forces your eyes open to sorrows of man - but God never creates them. This is not the regulatory nature of the metaphysics of God as I conceptualize it. It seems only some human beings are capable of endurance of angst; the angst is there for everybody, but only the toughest soul chooses to see it, unveil it from the cerecloth it shudders beneath! There are very often these human beings who are precisely the least deserving of this angst, for their hearts are often strong and authentic, and their souls are gapes of kenosis, an emptiness which magnetizes the dread and horror of existence, both ephemeral and corporeal, since they are quintessentially prone to these phenomena of spiritual realization; such physical and mental anguish scourges the very soul - but it is said that not even this torturous affliction of the lone soul may give an echo vibrant enough to reach even the ear of some far, far away God - which, even if possessing the utility and the power of the divine providence, would not come to use it for the reason of putting to peace the screechings of a simple, tortured human. 

humanity is so anchored in the past that it can not see the shorelines of future even from atop its highest mast! Thus it is up to the mutineer to overthrow the ship, as to let loose the anchor of history, or to find some rubble as to built a raft to leave alone for the new and promised land!

fuck all of you bill maher type atheists and all the rest of you

can we make the case

that it is not easy to philosophically disprove or discredit or refute

the idea that the quantum of the human experience

is the religiosity with which we map reality, and that

religiosity at its fundaments ― the founding stones of it ― is

the belief that there is something somewhat somewhere out there in the unknown,

partly or wholly attainable ― introducable ― to us?

we (at least some of us) seem to be equipped with

intense spiritual instincts... instincts which, in their true meaning,

somehow, in a weird and very intuitive way,

draws us nearer to it ―

and ― just we dug past the first layer of soil

in pursuit of the gold-nerves,

plentiful beneath the crust as they are,

maybe we could ascend, transform, transcend

into the mysterious which we call the divine?

Smash the idols but be careful as to not get mired in the ideology of blind opposition in principal, the unconditional antagonism, the stupidity which breaks men in half: become a demon of the word, weaponize fierce critique. Affirm life, do not deny it.

people who instinctually seek out the hardships and trials the insight of this entails, shall be the people that will understand and enact the philosophy of transcending them.

What some see as rare, I see as inevitable. We are inevitable, as inevitable as we are rare - we had enough space, we had enough time - we happened.

Is life astronomically rare, and should we therefore, as a matter of the principal of rarity in occurence, care more for it? We can decide for ourselves, but in my heart, life by default seems overrated. Well, the proposed sacrality of it seems atleast, and I this proposed sacrality makes me want to belch: as a measure of bitterly assured hostility, I rip the virginal cloth from its face, the cloth which veils it with the shroud of embroided and beautified dread... and beneath it reveals to me a dead body, for life if a corpse dolled-up for funeral... beautify that ugliness and see how long the surface holds before it will crack like the tendons of an old ballerina!

Wherefrom originated the first atom, if not from its own desire to extinct, die off in strife, fall beyond the edge of entropy into the blank, white space of uncertainty?

...but what will differ me from Gilgamesh is that I will fuck Inanna like a beast...

do worthless people feel predominate shame or do they rather feel indifference as the prime emotion, when subjected undeniably to the cold aura of their own shadowry, when forced to reflect as if under gun-threat in the face, the mirror, of their own decadence?

Tanke från Hispan 

Vilka demoner kan dessa anspråkslösa vita väggar inte vittna om?
De har ändå spenderat sina liv som avgränsare mellan otaliga desperationer
Men dessa väggar säga ingenting
Jag får väl anta att även de omfattas av sekretessbestämmelser
Tystnad kring roppar och stess
Tystnad kring rep och stress