joi, 24 octombrie 2013
The quantum mechanic government
A modern state should be progressive enough to be well acquainted with the scientific realities of its time and consider the quantum mechanics as a necessary option for the future of law-making and taxation. Thus, a person shall not be taxed or judged according to his/her current socio-economic situation, but according to the highest status which that particular individual might have achieved, after conducting an exhaustive series of possible realities. The purpose of such an enterprise might seem at first as a manifestation state's greed in collecting taxes, but the desired effect is evolution of humanity itself. The question on everyone's minds will be: why not try to be the best we can be, if we already pay for it?
luni, 21 octombrie 2013
The Recluse vs. the Misanthrope
Statement of a born anarchist who dreams of greatness in a wasteland
You might say that the plan of a quasi-invisible individual to strangle ideologically the human civilization is just a manifestation of the syndrome which pushed some lunatic to kill a celebrity, because this celebrity made him aware of his own insignificance. But it is more than that. It is a self analyzed, self assumed, self righteous, premeditated act, by which an individual can inflict another type of annihilation to his surroundings, in order to achieve the only possible greatness. The only one which is morally right: Greatness in a wasteland
Fashionably hanging
The recorded human progress is killing me from the inside, from the outside, crushes me from above and drowns me in a flood of enlightened phrases, evrikas’, queds’, equals to, solutions, psychological revelations, scientific breakthroughs’ and there is no promise for my fingerprints to be pressed against anything great and unique, unless they will be remembered by aliens as the fingerprints found around the neck of the corpse of human civilization. My wish is to weave a delicate scarf which the humanity will wear elegantly around its neck, only to discover suddenly that it had always been a dead man’s rope and the pedestal gives way to a free fall.
In a few generations, humanity must fall! Everything has been occupied, whatever you dream of discovering has already been covered by some scientific paper or another. It has been enveloped by scientists and researchers into the cycle of human civilization where there is no more space for another generation of great humans; just for new generations of test crash dummies.
There is no place you might want to go which has not been marked as the territory of some howling dog of the past, even philosophy is like an exclusivist toilet where lots of moles are crowding in to reek the farts of Socrates and the ones before him.
“Occupied” is the word which comes to mind obsessively, you realize that there are more humans than ever to share everything with: the space, the resources, the glory, your uniqueness… there is a cut throat competition for earning the right to become a human among this throng of test crash dummies!
Dilution
In order for the human to survive, humanity must fall! Is it not obvious that we dilute our soul(s)? Do we not understand too much and live to little? Do we not find other life forms to protect and at the same time curse our fellow humans? And why is that? Is it not a death wish, a result of a subtle, subconscious desire to help humanity commit suicide? Is it not because we are fed up with ourselves and we despise our own baseness as seen in the others? We recognize the mirrored reflection of ourselves in others only because we do not apply the filter of poetic or philosophic justification to them. How else could we see it? Psychology rendered everything noble to selfishness, to thirst for power and a means of dominating your own environment. Is it then still possible, for an educated, free thinking individual, to go out on the streets and shout his lungs out for a noble cause??
God has already won
Nietzsche said that God is dead; he was wrong, God has never been more alive, happy and powerful! He is still alone on his lofty mountain peak, breathing in the fresh air of uniqueness, with ever recurring joy, oblivious to our struggle to breathe through the thick, foul smelling crowds. He is even unaware of the ones who are aware of him and I suspect that he is closer to complete ignorance that to being all knowing.
duminică, 20 octombrie 2013
Deodata...
Cand pedalezi in amurg si asculti muzica in casti pe shuffle, iar coincidenta face ca "shine on you crazy diamond" sa se suprapuna cu imaginea unui apus rubiniu care navaleste intr-o explozie de cinabru asupra Marii Mediterane, senzatia care te incearca poate fi impartasita doar cu cineva care traieste momentul alaturi de tine, ascultand melodia asta...te opresti si privesti, cu reverenta si recunostinta.
joi, 17 octombrie 2013
Blink
It was a late autumn afternoon and he had awakened under the spell of some awkward dreams, after falling asleep at 6 in the morning. It had been raining the whole day through; that kind of day which pours a molten lead mass into your head and drowns all your thoughts in it, starting with the more subtle ones and finishing with a powerful choke on the most determined and necessary plans, ones which you have carefully devised days or even weeks ago.
So it happend with Mark, who was supposed to make a few important phone calls that day, on which a lot of his future would depend. He did not yet know just how much...
Instead, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of his native town, which he had been avoiding ever since he had graduated from the gymnasium, about 18 years ago. There it was: his school, his playground, his first kiss, his first painting, so many distant memories, blurry faces of past times, he had re-accepted them all as a part of his becoming.
The wet pavement started mirroring the street lamps' light onto its surface when Mark finally decided to walk back home and contact the people whom he was supposed to call more than an hour ago; he knew a few short cuts, but as it happened, they were all blocked either by wired fences or by buildings which he had no memory of from back when he was a child, so that the short cuts turned out to be chronophages and irksome.
Going back to the main street, he started wondering why the hell he had taken the time to walk these streets and awaken all these memories when he himself had made a silent, but such firm resolution that he would not return there. And why would he, when he had now outgrown that childhood's problematic character, dominated that impulsive rascal who had little patience with anything and was of a violent nature with anybody...
He was walking the only way back home when he thought he recognized somebody, either an ex colleague of his or a neighbour, he could not tell. But as she did not raise her head and avoided any eye contact, he didn't bother to start any kind of embarrassing conversation with a quasi-unknown and shy acquaintance with whom he must have exchanged not more than a few hellos almost two decades ago. But still, he turned his head after she had continued on her way and kept trying to remember who she might be.
He continued walking with his head turned when all of a sudden, a terrifying sound woke him up from the effort of memory which he was immersed in.
As he turned, he saw that in the middle of the street, a truck was braking on the wet pavement and was sliding fast with its trailer towards him. There was no avoiding it...He was unable to move a finger, although he could see the trailer approaching in slow motion with its tyres razing and carrying the huge monsterous load like a savage monster who admitted no negotiation; for a short moment he had a distinctive belief that no harm could come to him because of the well known brand which was inscribed on the truck's trailer, so he was half paralyzed with fear, half in disbelief. He could not tell how much time had passed or if time was indeed moving at all.
Death came fast, there was not too much pain, but the moments of despair when he had the clarity of what was happening to him, felt like hours and hours. He felt the whole intensity of regret for the unknown, assuming the sweet joy which the heart would never be able to feel again. He was still young, there were so many experiences for which he hadn't been completly ready, which he did not seek, saving them for later and later now it was all for nothing... or was it?
The whole world froze for a moment and then the Outline of all the things around him was growing thiner and thiner. It was as if one would watch the process of a finished painting going backwards to its beginnings until the incipient state of a sketch. First, there were no colours, then there were no faces, later there were no emotions and finally he had no perception. There was only an infinitely long, colourless(or infinitely colourful) thread which was about to weave itself into what he expected to be the non-perspectival world. But when he was about to see the Truth, he awoke on a sea shore where everything had come back to its full colour and he was aware that he had been left out of the becoming of things, so he could not experience the painter's fine touch of creation because he had been asleep as always. And again, all was a product of his perception...
As he lay there on the shore, sinking his elbows into the warm sand, he was watching the sun go down over the foaming sea, but when the vermilion coloured disk touched the waves in the distant horizon, it turned into the head of a freckled red haired nymph who rose up again and took the whole sea up with her in the form of a dress which was spread over the whole of the sky. She then soared through the air and her bright head was shining through the translucide dress, casting a bright purple light all around. With a graceful spin, she started her dance, made it rain and the falling purple sparkles spashed on his face in the rythm of an inaudible melody. When the nymph reached the zenyth, he looked up under her dress and saw a hypnotizing whirlpool which seemed to him to be the only entrace to eternity. Needless to say that he got dragged into this sky, drowned into it and came back to life on a star. After the star had exploded, the supernova turned into a black hole where he found his way forward and experienced singularity. He then fell splashing into the sea throgh the cornea of the red-haired nymph who got turned into the sun again.
A sudden grip pulled him back four meters... he opened his eyes and saw the truck crashing and rolling onto the cars which were parked on the side of the street.
So it happend with Mark, who was supposed to make a few important phone calls that day, on which a lot of his future would depend. He did not yet know just how much...
Instead, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of his native town, which he had been avoiding ever since he had graduated from the gymnasium, about 18 years ago. There it was: his school, his playground, his first kiss, his first painting, so many distant memories, blurry faces of past times, he had re-accepted them all as a part of his becoming.
The wet pavement started mirroring the street lamps' light onto its surface when Mark finally decided to walk back home and contact the people whom he was supposed to call more than an hour ago; he knew a few short cuts, but as it happened, they were all blocked either by wired fences or by buildings which he had no memory of from back when he was a child, so that the short cuts turned out to be chronophages and irksome.
Going back to the main street, he started wondering why the hell he had taken the time to walk these streets and awaken all these memories when he himself had made a silent, but such firm resolution that he would not return there. And why would he, when he had now outgrown that childhood's problematic character, dominated that impulsive rascal who had little patience with anything and was of a violent nature with anybody...
He was walking the only way back home when he thought he recognized somebody, either an ex colleague of his or a neighbour, he could not tell. But as she did not raise her head and avoided any eye contact, he didn't bother to start any kind of embarrassing conversation with a quasi-unknown and shy acquaintance with whom he must have exchanged not more than a few hellos almost two decades ago. But still, he turned his head after she had continued on her way and kept trying to remember who she might be.
He continued walking with his head turned when all of a sudden, a terrifying sound woke him up from the effort of memory which he was immersed in.
As he turned, he saw that in the middle of the street, a truck was braking on the wet pavement and was sliding fast with its trailer towards him. There was no avoiding it...He was unable to move a finger, although he could see the trailer approaching in slow motion with its tyres razing and carrying the huge monsterous load like a savage monster who admitted no negotiation; for a short moment he had a distinctive belief that no harm could come to him because of the well known brand which was inscribed on the truck's trailer, so he was half paralyzed with fear, half in disbelief. He could not tell how much time had passed or if time was indeed moving at all.
Death came fast, there was not too much pain, but the moments of despair when he had the clarity of what was happening to him, felt like hours and hours. He felt the whole intensity of regret for the unknown, assuming the sweet joy which the heart would never be able to feel again. He was still young, there were so many experiences for which he hadn't been completly ready, which he did not seek, saving them for later and later now it was all for nothing... or was it?
The whole world froze for a moment and then the Outline of all the things around him was growing thiner and thiner. It was as if one would watch the process of a finished painting going backwards to its beginnings until the incipient state of a sketch. First, there were no colours, then there were no faces, later there were no emotions and finally he had no perception. There was only an infinitely long, colourless(or infinitely colourful) thread which was about to weave itself into what he expected to be the non-perspectival world. But when he was about to see the Truth, he awoke on a sea shore where everything had come back to its full colour and he was aware that he had been left out of the becoming of things, so he could not experience the painter's fine touch of creation because he had been asleep as always. And again, all was a product of his perception...
As he lay there on the shore, sinking his elbows into the warm sand, he was watching the sun go down over the foaming sea, but when the vermilion coloured disk touched the waves in the distant horizon, it turned into the head of a freckled red haired nymph who rose up again and took the whole sea up with her in the form of a dress which was spread over the whole of the sky. She then soared through the air and her bright head was shining through the translucide dress, casting a bright purple light all around. With a graceful spin, she started her dance, made it rain and the falling purple sparkles spashed on his face in the rythm of an inaudible melody. When the nymph reached the zenyth, he looked up under her dress and saw a hypnotizing whirlpool which seemed to him to be the only entrace to eternity. Needless to say that he got dragged into this sky, drowned into it and came back to life on a star. After the star had exploded, the supernova turned into a black hole where he found his way forward and experienced singularity. He then fell splashing into the sea throgh the cornea of the red-haired nymph who got turned into the sun again.
A sudden grip pulled him back four meters... he opened his eyes and saw the truck crashing and rolling onto the cars which were parked on the side of the street.
marți, 1 octombrie 2013
a light
Only the original ideas seem to vanish to one who gets them by aimlessly walking along a silent alley, lit by the pole lamps.
By the time he gets home, he will have forgotten everything because of the ever recurring triffles which take possesion of his thoughts with such an authority that they seem to be incantations of magic spells.
He will have to console himself with writing down the same phrase in which, along with many others, he mourns the eternal disappearance of a gleaming and exhilarating idea, the loss of which he suspects is one of his life's greatest tragedies. This idea would have had the power to unravell an entirely new and glorious way of life. It is because of these losses that the state of Sehensucht exists. For some...
By the time he gets home, he will have forgotten everything because of the ever recurring triffles which take possesion of his thoughts with such an authority that they seem to be incantations of magic spells.
He will have to console himself with writing down the same phrase in which, along with many others, he mourns the eternal disappearance of a gleaming and exhilarating idea, the loss of which he suspects is one of his life's greatest tragedies. This idea would have had the power to unravell an entirely new and glorious way of life. It is because of these losses that the state of Sehensucht exists. For some...
power
There is a type of individual who likes to declare certain things as being "true". His firm beliefs are the result of a semi-counscious process through which he renounces any further investigation and reinforces these conclusions first upon himself. These are then rooted in his system of values and in his perception of reality, thus becoming convictions. All this, because the mind had lost "heart", lost the strenght to question the validity of the so called "certainties" and by the time it will have recovered, these "truths" would become much easier to accept than to challenge. At this point, the individual will use all his newly recovered mental and phisycal strenght to impose the idea of "truth" upon the others around him, as an innate desire to control and command his own environment. Far from him the idea of not interferring with the ones who are still searching...This is power, unfolding in its most vulgar form.
The above is valid for most of the "good advice" given by feeble elders, for most of the good natured people saying "if I were you" or "I'm telling you this for your own good". As an individual, you must be in a state of constant rebellion against these self proclaimed benefactors, even if by doing so, you will not avail yourself of many a good advice. The truths which you will have discovered for yourself will be much more valuable than the secure path lit by the lamps of these "benevollent" power addicts.
I want to plant this in your head as part of my own thirst for power and I assure you that it is out of genuine goodness of heart that I wish that you won't listen to me.
The above is valid for most of the "good advice" given by feeble elders, for most of the good natured people saying "if I were you" or "I'm telling you this for your own good". As an individual, you must be in a state of constant rebellion against these self proclaimed benefactors, even if by doing so, you will not avail yourself of many a good advice. The truths which you will have discovered for yourself will be much more valuable than the secure path lit by the lamps of these "benevollent" power addicts.
I want to plant this in your head as part of my own thirst for power and I assure you that it is out of genuine goodness of heart that I wish that you won't listen to me.
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