Paralogismos

Subject: Paralogismos Sun Mar 15, 2015 7:47 pm

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Sun Mar 15, 2015 7:57 pm

Cast

Cobe Iaa = White Knight - bright and joyful sovereign

Stant Conn = Black Knight - bringer of dis-ease

MonoLisa = Black Witch - monster of reason

Ly Oll = Shaman - Priest of the Holy One

Nisy De = Madame - Warrior-Priestess of Sensation

Stock Meeers = Dandy - Grifter Extraordinaire

Berserker Mob = Zombie Clan of non-Individual Nobodies

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Sun Mar 15, 2015 9:26 pm

Cobe Iaa

White Knight shine bright, lead me back home on this darkest night.

When a hero enters the evil forest, the branches seem to give way, as if to say, "pass but do not sever", compassionate savior of hope, creator of value, protector of the sacred one.
Such a man is born once in a generation, if at all.
He does not simply lead, he inspires others to follow at his heels, as he heals, past indiscretions, with a soft smile, and a comfortable gaze.
His words spill out of him, they do not explore, and all that hear the gurgling stream begin to feel thirsty in the heat he exudes.

With condensed sensation, he bends over from his height to lift his brothers and sisters from the blight, raising the upward, towards the only sun, the son, whose light he drinks and shines.
A generous soul, gives, in a potlatch ritual, and in his giving receives adoration.
He disseminates his gifts, each vibrating with energy, attuned to the number one, the shatters the nil, like sin, and makes the women swoon.

Who is this man, or is he god, who constructs palaces on sun-rays, and sings songs that make the maidens cry?
Who is this noble spirit offering precious words full of joy, anyone can employ, to find heaven upon this earth?

******

A bringer of light, a sovereign, casts his brilliance upon the darkness and shadows dissipate.
He is the value giver, the healer, the one who appreciates all as one; the yay-saying man-god.
His eyes are God's eyes, his thoughts are Divine, his judgments are beyond space and time.

The world is saved, and life, all that exists, reaffirmed.

Behold!!! the future man!

******

The White Knight and his clan are forgiving.
They can give the benefit of the doubt, find the positive in all things, and hide their true evaluation so as to as permit the other his own valuing, undisturbed and unaffected by any factor other than their personal standards and tastes.
They are, in this, Democratic, altruistic and thoroughly in-tune with the Modern: the future men and women, the leaders, the preachers, the builders of worlds.
They do not dismiss, they inspire, they find the positive in the negative, the spark of light in the dark, the seed of greatness in the feces.

They recycle and reuse.
They construct, and belong.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Sun Mar 15, 2015 9:46 pm

Stant Conn

Black Knight, full of fright, shatter all that glistens, and spread the darkness to he who listens.

A destroyer of wills, of hopes, of dreams.
His tongue drips of venom, his breath spreads the plague, his eyes burn with their vicious stare, that do not care.
This pathetic creature attracts three categories...

1- The desperate who find in him a hope to excuse their own failings.
The bugs, and thugs, and slugs, of the world, living in the dirt; hurt and angry.
All kind of vermin gather at his feet, hoping for a bite to eat.

2- Those that pity him and in their pity feel better about not being him, about themselves.
The mockers, the cynics, the thrill seekers, the jesters who laugh to forget their plight.

3- Those who are with the White Knight and see in the Dark Knight's darkness a faint glimmer of a light, hoping to spark the embers to life, blowing oxygen into its supplicating darkness.

***

SaTAN mixes the pot, and with some luck nasty smells come gurgling up from the bottom; from the closest point to the flame - where iron meets fire.
Destroyer of spirit, forked tongue, he seduces with pretty lyrics, his pan's flute echoing in the darkness.
Look at who comes out to cut him to pieces.

Is it a vermin wanting to replace him on his lofty pedestal, as King of the vile, or someone who pities him and finds pride in the mocking, or could it be a healer, lowering himself to his level, despite warning from the White Knight, wanting to heal the wound and bring him back under the light; another noble warrior fighting beside his leader?

***

A bully, a thug, a nay-sayer a bug.
The destructive force of the nil, the Devilish, contradicting the Divine one.
He is to be pitied, mocked, preferably ignored, if any construction can avoid the destructive power of the cloven-hoofed one.
Where he passes he devastates, plants doubt, shames and degrades.

Who could tolerate such a creature of despair?
His violence invites the brutish and vulgar, to his court.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Sun Mar 15, 2015 9:57 pm

Ly Oll

Priest of gloom and doom, finding in his woman's robes a testicle to roll in his delicate hands, like a prayer bead.
From God to God, (s)he dances, and in each one (s)he finds another semblance of the Holy Cock, crowing when the sun rises.
And this worship of the sun-light, is where he finds agreement with the White Knight.

When Warrior and Priest meet, the two castes are represented, and the undesirables excluded.
They speak in sacred academic code, and their words seem complex when they speak of the absurd.

***

The preacher finds pride, value, in making himself a worthy conduit for a masterful mind - a god.

His relationship with the White Knight is antagonistic, and cooperative.
He sees in him an adversary competing for his idol's privileged position of representative.

***

He who knows the scripture knows the Divine law.
He who speaks on behalf of greatness attains greatness through association.
He who makes of himself a vehicle for another's glory, is washed clean by grace.

One idol is replaced by the next, each one dead and buried to not spoil the idea(l) with the unforgiving, relentless, real.

Humble and just he becomes, for the words of mortal men do not touch his service to the holy.
Even the White Knight can be treated with patience and trust if he builds the absolute from the substances the Preacher discovers in the dirt.
He is a devout cleaner, an obsessive polisher of gold; a gem sharpener, cutting away all imperfections to create the perfect jewel.

***

What a priest hates the most is when another discovers a new way to tap into the divine mind, threatening his job, his mettie, his position as chosen go-between God, genius, the absolute divine, and the rabble.

In his quest to remain updated and current with the scripture reading, the Biblical studies, he will find new mentors to follow, to kneel before: the Neocon, the tribal chosen one, anybody who offers him currency, makes him valuable as a representative of the Divine.

His competition with the White Knight is on this front.
Will the chosen representative be a member of the priestly or the warrior caste: Brahmin or Kshatriya, and both become Vaishya.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Wed Mar 18, 2015 11:49 pm

The Brahmin classes of positivity, announce the coming future man, the coming non-European, global man, as a mealnge of beige stir-fry vegetarian deliciousness.
Delicate, and healthy, with a touch of picante exoticism.

Gone will be the days of hatred, the world under the glow of self-loving, self-valuing, harmony - no man-child shall be left behind.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Wed Mar 18, 2015 11:51 pm

We now know what the meaning of life is; what the universal purpose is: pleasure.

Life emerged to enable the cosmos to pleasure itself, with itself.
Some would call this self-pleasuring, by another name.
The other word is reserved for those excluded from the gene pool, forced to relieve their repressed libido by spilling it with generous carelessness upon the fields of our Lord ONE, but in this case the divine will not permit shame to keep it from the work at....hand.

Bend over and receive your own dose, because a God is never a catcher, so listen to the marketing pitch and endure the pain by calling it your pleasure.
Then ask for more, to help him drive it home.

In the duality of good/evil, a new word-game has been found to progress from that overcome primitivity.
And if we can use new labels here, then why not call self-love, self-valuing, and why not remake Will to Power into Will to Love?

The magical power of the word, the divine scripture, is unquenchable.
One can never underestimate its capacity to be resurrected, and renamed anew - a different package for every age, and for every taste.
What genius lies in the hands of the slight-of-tongue specialist.
Let us admire and appreciate it for what it is: positive, noble, offering hope and good tidings to one and all.
Lend your own hand and make it a mission to spread the noble ones seeds.

The women-folk gather to receive the blessing.
Do you not see the admiration in their gaze, as they bow before they kiss the sacred scepter?

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 12:23 am

It is, perhaps, confusing to come across a holy man wearing armor plating; a divine spirit, brandishing a shiny sharp blade; to listen to the humble servant of the divine offer words of biting arrogance.
Paladin they used to call him - Knight of the Templar
But the White Knight is not troubled by such things.

He is a creature of confusions, and endless misunderstandings.
Heavily dependent on it to remain fascinating to those he needs to witness him struggling within his immutable panoply of unbending steel.
His struggle is their struggles; his battle is for them.
Because if he were tempted to use his blade to cut away at the vines of tangled contradiction and ambiguity, the ones his words and deeds construct so easily, or if he would dare cast aside that stringent mess of absolute solidity and strive to be understood completely, those who are now misled by the clamor and the clouds of dust, would find his clarity ridiculous, and his gravity would be drowned in laughter.

Perhaps it is not so bad to be mysterious and misunderstood; sometimes to be accused of being milky-white, and the next of being pitch-black, hiding beneath your metal face-shield, forever concealed in the light.
The Priestesses of the World's Navel, and the clever self-haters who would become disciples of salvation, of biblical proportions, knew this all too well.

Remain misunderstood, throw some seductive words, in association, and let them construct, in their own mind, using their proposal needs, your legend.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 8:03 am

Ly, the Sacred Shaman, fingers his rosary beneath his robes, reciting the words her learned in seminar school when each knot reaches his thumb, rubbing it as he recites verbatim, trying to remember the exact words:
"Prime mover, the Holy ONE..."
"Will to Power, by association..."
"N, for NeoCon..."
"SeMite the aiarry..."
"The chosen still lead by an others name..."

The sacred of all sacred idol breakers comes to his mind most often.
He has become obsessed with him.
He still recalls his first taste of the shaman's seed when he first tasted it, on his knees, before his chosen mentor.
Sweet and salty it was, stinging the wounds on his lips he gave himself when biting nervously before the ritual.
The words were mysterious, magical, full of power.
He was mesmerized by their insinuations, their repeating incantations, but could not understand until his hooded master explained each one, helping him store it in memory.
The taste of those words on his tongue never left him.
He swallowed the sacred semen and was transformed into more than man...more than sexual....trans-sending sexual.
It returns every time he repeats the scripture like a wonderful after-taste.

The holy jewels he fingers, behind his dress, are not his own. He gave those up when these fell into his palm, cupping them tenderly.
"My precious" he had whispered, and would never let them go, even when he found them attached to an other's groin - it was all the same, for him.
His own have shriveled and returned from where they fell soon after he was born.
He does not miss those lesser things.
He feels no loss.
These sacred stones are potent, and offer much more.
He shines them daily, playing with them - endless hours in his palms have turned them smooth and shinny.
He considers himself a jeweler - an appreciator of value...a devotee, a gem smith, a diamond setter of the sacred gems.

When he pulls back his priestly robes they blind whomever sees them reflecting the sunlight, mistaking them for his own; gaining in reputation, he will not tolerate anyone replacing him as the keeper of the stones.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 8:11 am

Dark and brooding the king of darkness burns all that approach, his stench overpowering, his words brimstone suffocating whomever breathes deeply.
A monster, a plague, a vile creature, he is called, while others laugh imagining a demented, cowering trollish figure behind all that grey that is not so black.

How pretty he lies, spinning tales that intrigue and attract the vermin to his lap.
Then they wish to kill him, to take his place.
Reciting his words, like riddles they have solved the wise know it is what it is - his words a Gordian Knot with no solution, no beginning and no end; a way of occupying the needy victims, trying to unravel it, until his blade cuts deep.

The monstrous see themselves in him, convinced he is what he pretends.

"Lead us!"
"Give us"
"Relieve us"
...they call...

And when he denies them they wish to torture and devour him in small doses, unable to endure the entirety of his leprosy, they eat him in parts and burp and fart him out in wafts.
Cane you smell him in their digestion?

He's been assimilated and become something else.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 8:17 am

Nisy De

She lets you peak at the hilt buried in the scabbard by her side, making you wonder at its length and its quality.
Then she becomes soft, and gentle, licking her lips, as if she has not eaten for a while.

When she speaks of her pleasures you wonder if the tool at her side is sword or knife, or perhaps a giant dildo ready for the penetration, the orgasmic suffering of the rape.

***

Dimness is her place of comfort.
She seduces, she thinks, with methods practiced by the oldest of all professions.

Her wings white beneath the charcoal, and the shadow play of dancing flames, adorning her subterranean tunnels.

"Come come..." she sings melodically beckoning for you to follow down, down, to spaces growing tighter, smaller, constricting.
It's too late to go back, once she's fed you her engrossing nectar, and you no longer fit through the spaces you did before.

She shrugs, when you look at her, when you realize what predicament you've put yourself in.
She's innocent of your gluttony.
A pleasure trap.
She has no sex in mind.
What she will suck is your marrow, your liquid essence, starting with the mental energy of emotion.
The words do not bother her. Bones to hang the flesh she craves.

"Mmmmmmm" she moans, biting her lower lip in anticipation.
"This will not hurt at all" she comforts."Sit back and enjoy, it isn't so bad."

Sleep comes.
As it always does in her secret chambers.
And before you drift off, she brandishes her sheathed fangs.
The feeling is narcotic.

***

With obsessive vigor the priestess devours all, into her womb, hoping she will give birth to greatness..but she doubt it, not because of her own failings but because she is cynically dismissive of all, and none can match her implied wit, and her idealized solution.
A filter, she is...hoping that she can dilute the valuable from the murky glob, and like an alchemist produce something new, and sacred.

Every time she fails she blames others, not herself, because unlike the holy duo, of the sacred Brahmin clan, she does not put much stock in words, but only in the pun, and she finds the Dandy Meeers too repulsive to be a male reflection of herself; he cannot inspire her as the White knight can, or the priest of N, and his eastern bribes.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 10:00 am

Stock Meeers

Fashionable, in the know, he is cutting-edge for show.
Never doubt his expertise in bringing ladies, and fine gentlemen, to their knees, if you please.

He may not cut an impressive figure but he accessorizes, and mesmerizes, turning fertilizer into beds of finery and gold.
He knows the ins-and-outs, and if trapped in a bovine heap of steaming excrement, he has his ways of turning the tables and finding the cracks to slither through.
He cavorts with the elite, and samples from their tender meat, never tasting what he swallows, for free, he always borrows.

What clever ways he has mastered, using make-up to not be seen as a bastard.
Masculine, to the T, he thrives in the current sea.

Have you heard him declare his worth, settling for mirth when thinks come close to the lowly nature of his birth?
Intelligence panache, you'll find him in every ballroom dance, sitting it out, scouting the well-to-do for a selfie with a thumbs-up grin, to sell to his mates, for high stakes.

Early on when the proof was there, and they sought a specialist for his care, he outsmarted them all, and found his pride, another fabric for his hide.
He grew bold, in those days, discovering words is all it takes.

***

There's glamour, ease, a comfortable grin, to settle you down, before his hidden crown.
He's anointed himself an aristocrat, but only knows it as wealth, and things, and more things to keep his stuff within.
He is generous for display, or when he wants to play, and her to stay, after he's fed and medicated her enough for him to reveal his wrath.

***

Techniques and technologies, and thank the gods for google searches, bring him to an on-line thesaurus to, to make you wonder if he's real or if he's fake.

All he knows are coins, to tenderize his loins, softening the bovine skin, to a state where it passes for silk.
But with all that flattening he makes it transparent, and you can see his stomach heaving, if you are not distracted by the clothes he wears.
Bejeweled, a kosmima, a cosmos of his own, each surgical staple scar covered with a silver button, a scarf fashionably laid across his form, giant cuffllinks adding girth to his delicate wrists.

Just as he knows how to make a conspicuous entrance he has learned the signs triggering his inconspicuous exit, always leaving those he's touched wanting more, thinking that he has more, and that he is giving.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 12:29 pm

The brilliant scepter does thuo shine divine, or are you seeking the sublime in what is not yours but mine?

He gathers his minions, calling them his mates, unraveling his warrior banner to the winds, so that across the lands those who understand the signs will see, and take heart, beginning the long trip to his court, which he has fashioned into a resort, of sorts.
A Disneyland, and Hollywood to meet all needs, in an orgiastic spectacle, where pleasure reigns, in purity, with no insecurity.
He finds order in the chaotic, and with humility he admits "the design is not mine", is it thine?
Whatever it is it is unavoidable that you, as you are, as what you are, will head the call, and refuse to fall, like the Dark one to the earth.

The castes unite, and Aryan unity is found, under Semitic symbols, call in the wine in thimbles to sip until the end of time, this nectar of the gods, convulsing as one when they are eaten up.
Socrates has his singular Deity, for posterity, he was the Jesus of his time, and he, this knight of His Light, refusing to acknowledge, has found wisdom in the knowledge, and made himself the new messiah...requiring a priestly class to promote his word(s).

As for miracles, they will come, if not mathematical healing of the cancer, then a geometric form to build a church with precision.
And what of wine and whine?

Not all have a taste for wine, they lose their mind, so best call the preacher to perform the rite and turn water into an inebriating form without anybody knowing...because who does not drink water, except for fish?
And if water, as wine, stimulated the peptic acids, and hunger comes, then why not sacrifice one fish to feed the masses?

The process is magical, divine.
One fish and water will be enough.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 1:09 pm

Berserker Mob

Who knows what each member of this group is?
Who cares?

They are relevant force only in unison.
Alone they vanish in the confusion of limbs, heads, and mandibles.

Their common need, makes them formidable - a hungry confusion of gnashing teeth, and arms outstretched to grapple and bring down.
The Dark Knight finds his power here...far but yet so near.
They imitate, regurgitate, repeat without digesting....nutrients pass right through them without settling, without being absorbed, and they remain forever unsatisfied, hungry, desperate for something to stick to a cavity with no walls, no boundaries, no intestinal track, no tongue to taste, no palate to appreciate, no lips to savor.

The White Knight sees potential there, he Holy Priest cringes and accept their useful inevitability, he Dandy feels superior to them and this is enough of them, and the Madam sees potential clients for her opium palaces.

Their hunger drives them mad...angry beyond comforting.
They calm down only to receive spiritual guidance and intellectual feeding...some wine and fish, anointed and multiplied to feed them all.
How they want to stand apart...to sit at the master's table, have their undivided attention....feel special.

Hint at sustainability, the noise of the absolute end, and see them tilt their head, triangulating, and then shuffle towards the source, converging, en masse, grasping, biting, wanting, coveting.

The White Knight flutters above, like a divine butterfly, untouched but right about their centered mass, on intuited, innate, order. He speaks to them with kindness,a s if they could make sense of his promise, and with patience.
They respond to the calm demeanor, and reach out to his lofty height, to reach....but he rises, remaining out of reach, knowing they will drag him down and tear him to pieces, without knowing why or what.
Black Knight snickers in repulsive appreciation.
These zombies of despair do not wish to reach him but only to be him, to replace him....to be the elder of them all.

***

What if one, among them, is more hungry than the rest, more clever when it struggles to fill the cavity that has rotted away, or never was able to hold anything, when the same hunger drives them one, and all?
Let Nisy take the lead, and if a sacred minion is needs, let her seek out the Holy Priest and the White Knight to feed them all, with fish, and quench their thirst with wine, from water.

Let them gather as one, and all, preparing for the fall, that will never come.
They are destined for the Elysian Fields where only the chosen few can visit.

Let them see, in one another, their bond...and let the Dark One swing alone, on the rotten timbers of his imaginary throne...forever tasting blood because he has gone too long in solitude and his blade swings without remorse, and consideration of recourse.
To fight in groups, of two or more, requires special training, n'est ce pa?

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 2:19 pm

When they play the victim of misunderstanding, what they mean is "did you not read, did you not see, my latest incarnation? are you still stuck in my past?".

When the past is forgotten, dismissed, escaped, every new day, every new sentence, every new fashion is an opportunity for escape.
What WAS, no longer applies...the what IS has replaced it.
every dawn a reincarnation, a rebirth, a baptismal rite....no priest necessary.
the teachings come directly from the Book of symbols and metaphors, to be taken, on faith, literally, as magical devices, as prayers of divine providence.

The Priestess is rejuvenated, at daybreak, the Berserker finds a new hope at dawn, the Dandy can choose, and in choosing deny and remake, with the power of his techniques/technologies, purchased for skin and blood, and bone.
and there,, when the Apollonian rays strike the shadows and dispel them, rises the Knight of Day, with new words for new births; gather and use them, to rise up from them....like a light figment on the hot air.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 3:37 pm

How easy, it must be, to entice the simple with sweet meats and sweet treats.
So easy that a noble White Knight would tire, and be angered when his motive is in question, taking older word and using new ones to say the same thing.
frustrating, to the point where the bright light turns dark and those he wants to inspire and gather he whips, like rabid dogs, and brain-dead flesh-pots,; zombies with the value of fertilizer for his hash-pots.

The Black Knight has no such problems.
The more disgusting and vile he becomes, the more they come to bury him, and in the cemetery, where they go to place his carcass is where he possesses them.
The Brilliant White Knight must balance his bullshit with his ideals, his actions with his words.
he cannot possess he can only seduce, like eh bitch he is...and bitches and whores go to him, for his secret jewels, and the rules, his Sovereignty decrees.

Politics and psychology, and all those smart words that govern men's minds, must be employed, to give substance to his hidden void, because the shine is no more than a sham, for the femme, who cannot help but want tot taste, from the sexy caste, the idea(l) and forgo the real.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 6:54 pm

In the game of life the battle is set and staged.
There is nothing beyond the borders, and the squares, right angled and peripheries, square inches enumerated and alphabetized.
The game of man is the game of life...no Cosmos beyond this point need apply.

Black and White, beyond good and evil, and still the iconoclasts use icons to represent their class.
Within these borders the rules are set, winner loser care to bet?

White Knight and Black Knight upon the stage who will check and who will mate?

The advantage is a given, and it is taken, by the White.
Who shall forfeit such a thing?
The White sets the momentum to begin with, and the Black needs to take it back, and away.

Who would not prefer to side with the White, when the advantage gives a child delight?
Movie scenes, movie dreams, the noble hero always wins: king and country, maiden and gold.

The dualism is clear to see, white is positive, light, and clean; black is negative, dark, and grim.
Advantage to the life, the positive, the one who starts.
The game is his to lose, while black await the chance to confuse, and surprise, much to the white's demise.

King is restricted by his responsibility, his singular role, and though all move in relation to him he is vulnerable and never too bold.

The Queen feels free to move to and fro, sometimes straddling the white, sometimes the black, when she is feeling bold.

Little pawns do what they can to prove their metal to the man.

Rook solid and sure, un-creative but reliable.

Bishop always at a slant, never straight, never direct, never honest, always sly remaining true only to his faith.

Knight is tricky and flexible. He leaps and skirts, as he comes at you he diverts, burying his shaft in whomever stands in his way.

Within this matrix, build with absolutes, all must remain within the square rooms; every part a here, and there, every moment a starting truth.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 11:07 pm

A singular choice has been made, by the Holy Father, the Priest of scripture, the man of the cloth, and of the book.
Thus Spake Ly, that beyond good and evil will result in a positive one.
Not beyond at all, but white, all white, "good" if you will.
And when the good has been discovered, uncovered, the evil is implied.

Worshiping the Idol breaker, is how Jesus found his flock.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Thu Mar 19, 2015 11:15 pm

There is kindness in his cruelty, a sweetness to the sour, and when he speaks it feels like a bone-crushing hug.
Children and women cannot resist the gentle warrior, the inhuman humanitarian, the humble arrogant one.
He is the coming future man...rejoice the second coming has begun.
Black, red, yellow, green, will be absorbed within the white.
He beckons from a distance, and they turn to see.
The subject has turned the object into a sun.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 11:55 am

In the subjective age perspectivism is more than the admission that perspective is where man is forced to engage what is beyond it is the announcement that there is where man can build his castled and spread his empires.
The old tactics will no longer do. a more efficient method is in play.
The erotic.

Upon the bodies of others men rise up to meet the sun, but he no longer slaughters to fertilize his fields, he cajoles, seduces, uses soft words, feigned humility and respect, to get under the effete's skirts, and candy to entice the younglings to his bedchamber, where rape is not described as tender loving communion.
The art of diplomacy is an art in itself.
One gives to receive, sometimes something more, and when it becomes a relationship of codependency there is little to shatter trust - not even exploitation.

"You scratch my back..." of the Golden Rule, shifts to the "You support my delusion, my word-play, my noetic device..."
Alliances are formed on the subjective and there they remain intact.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 12:17 pm

It would be easy to gain trust, and a following, by telling people what they wish to hear, and offering a tale that could seduce both child and woman.
Easiest for the one who lacks the masculine pride to stand in the way of such pretenses, or is void of them altogether, and cannot relate to this exposition.

But what if the motive was not popularity, and gaining self-validation, through quantities?
How would one go about filtering out the worthless, and the easy, both infantile mind, and womanly disposition?
In the same way one forges steel, if one wishes to create it out of raw iron, and of one wishes to find it ready-made then one digs, as one would for gold.

Do not think of the desirable outcome,a s if it is a predestined certainty.
Place yourself there, in the heat, in the cold, alone, with a tool, using muscle, using force, using energy....sweating, suffering, grinding away, uncertain you will find what you seek, or the alloy will meet the standards and will not shatter at first impact.

It is easy to seduce a woman, and to trick a child.
So, easy no real man would stoop to that level of hypocrisy for a pleasing outcome, if what he is looking for is more than ephemeral, and fashionable.
Tell a woman what she wants to hear, offer a child a treat he cannot resist, make the subjective a central theme, calling it by whatever name will be more irresistible, depending on the type of prey you wish to hunt.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 12:41 pm

The Black Knight employs methods that have been called the dark, evil, destructive, because his motive is not his personal pleasure, nor something trite and shallow.

Pressure reaching the heat of lava, he employs, finding ᾍδης, the lame, as his mentor, to create a sun in the dark, increasing fluidity in the seemingly static, and rigid.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 12:43 pm

Allow the White Knight to have his pick, the Black Knight thinks, because that's how the children and the females are weeded out of the throng, and darkness can never be escaped for long.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 3:27 pm

For the Moderns, the subjectivsists, the world having become irrelevant, the exploration of what is called "reality" means an exploration of academic narratives, presented in the form of book reviews, most of it repeated using your own words to prove that you received the lessons and assimilated it correctly.
A perspective on a perspective, which is, most often, of another perspective.
A subjective interpretation of a subjective interpretation of the subjective - the objective denied, and reduced to a myth.

Academics as philosophy.
The art teacher imparting to the student an officially sanctioned review of art, turning him into a critic, cynical at that, and not an artist.
When art is attempted it is sampled, recycled, self-referential, an artistic depiction of an artistic depiction, making the surreal no less inspiring than the realism of the ancients.
Feed into this recycling process and find yourself among the many.
Who, other than the Whitest of White Knights, would find value in that?

If I see Solterdijk, or Nietzsche, or any one of the popular, famous members of the Modern academic Pantheon, presented as personal insight one more time, I'm going to vomit black bile.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Fri Mar 20, 2015 5:54 pm

The Dark One remains unnamed, despite being given many names, each one corresponding to a nihilism's negation (a nil to the nullifying), as it is his way of remaining inconspicuous.

Who could include in the list of "positive" influences, to fatten up their resume, a list of "negative" influences, explaining what burned away their mental fat, and slapped a bit of the silly out of them?

They imitate his "cruelty", and repeat his words, never admitting the source, because they wish to appropriate and show vengeful ingratitude, wanting to forget the hard lessons that filled them with shame.

So be it.
Beyond personal vanity, and the human condition, effect is what matters. And if a child is born from rape, then the seeder is no less glad, even if the outcome would become a Messiah that would propose saving all rape victims from their memories.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Mon Mar 23, 2015 8:50 am

The world of White is the world of light.

The objective world has been mythologized.
All begins with self and returns to it, carrying with it all those self-help manuals it needs to carry on, carrying on.
Philosophy is politics, and politics is psychology.
The social organism so dependent on light will find in light its grace.
Philosophy...a social lubricant.
How much happiness can we sell?
How much pleasure to deal with the human condition?
We are thinking not about the world, which we are a part of, but about ourselves within the world that remains indifferent to human ploys, and joys.

To seek happiness, pleasure, the feeding of the senses, emotions running wild and offering a deeper wisdom.
Who can resist this meaning, this sacred purpose?
Gurus emerge each with a positive spin on an ancient message for one and all.
Subjectivity is all encompassing.
Find a perspective that integrates all perspectives into a love-festival, and you need not argue for long, need taking over to diminish all misgivings.

The cult always begins with a positive.
Just see Christianity.
How comforting when the subjective is mystified.
Not the objective, the world itself, but self that can now convince itself of anything, including its own mysteriousness, if it satisfies and deals with this incessant mix.

What is self, but another word for order?

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Mon Mar 23, 2015 12:42 pm

From unconsciousness to consciousness, and from consciousness to self-consciousness, who shall help them with the self-love when what is revealed is not so pleasant?
What White Magic will change the linear causal chains binding man to what he finds deplorable?

Playing Devil's advocate places you on the side of the Dark, where no light can disturb you from introspecting, and whispering to yourself all those nasty things you can never speak of when you know someone is listening.
Easier to play god's advocate.
More rewarding, more pleasant, more seductive and acceptable.

But who shall come out of the dark to speak of that which is unpleasant, unforgivable, those black expanses in between brilliant white stars?
A god?
A monster?

A loser?
The one with no-thing to lose?
The one who loves life and can still crave death?

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Mon Mar 23, 2015 1:20 pm

The affirmation of life, and of world which includes it, begins with a negative...

Negation of other to establish self, and make awareness, discrimination, consciousness possible.
Negation of the experience of this process, felt as the temporary distraction and nullification of the sensation of need/suffering - stress of maintaining ordering within the Flux.
The negative relationship between ordering and disordering, or the need for predictable consistency, sustaining life and consciousness of it, in a world of increasing randomness.
The negative relationship between knowing and the unknown, or of any absolute in relation to the fluctuating.
The negative relationship between power and space/time; strength and growth.
The White Knight and his Preachers, must exit from this negativity, and find the light, the airy, the other-worldly, where all-inclusion validates, and certainty reigns.

The White Knight attracts the dull, the cowardly, and the simple to his side - the children, the women folk...the retarded.
Emotion, sensationalism, fantastic fantasy, the positivity of his relieving message, makes him admirable, to be valued, among those who cannot cope using their own devices.

The Knight of Darkness runs the risk of attracting the life-haters, the base and primitive, the desperate to stand out from within the herd they cannot distinguish themselves from.

Both are worshiped for different reasons, but the White Knight's positivity makes him more prone to fall for the sensation rubbing against his vanity, and his desire to see the positive in all so that his own is not lost to him.
His motive is to bathe in the predictable feeling his message rewards him with.

In Christian faith the pretty words, and iconography, the soothing musical tones of lamentation, all offer such a reward....to the point where one forgets the absurdity the entire endeavor is founded on: the idea of a beginning requiring a Creator, and the subsequent deservedness of the flock to eternity in real reality.
The same can be said about any dogma offering flattering solutions to the indifference of the world.
Dig into the "positive", in relation to human needs, and find there an absurdity covered over with words, and salves, and flowers, and good intentions.
A wake, for the sleeping.

The White Knight and his Preacher ask you to suspend doubt, skepticism, when ti comes to what feels good, and to show no remorse and exhibit stringent intellectual integrity to what does not.
The cynicism of the Dark Knight is his downfall.
He can never lord over the masses, and he will never be popular, not even among those who agree with him, and who cannot deny his message.

The Dark one is destined to be alone, adding another layer to his social needs, the light one is destined to be King among the inferior to him, which is no big feat; he feels alone among those he thinks little of but cannot speak honestly about, because without them he returns to being absurd, transparently needy, and invisible...as light [passes right through him.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Mon Mar 23, 2015 2:31 pm

The mind becomes detrimental to its own original function when its own success frees it from this function, and it then turns upon itself, or becomes free to contemplate without considering the repercussions upon itself.

One is made to wonder if it is more of an insult to tell someone what you think we wants to hear, than it is to tell him what you think is the truth, indifferent to what he wants to hear.
Both Black and White Knights are left to wonder, only the latter must become convincing, if he chooses as the less insulting option to tell the other what he wants to hear, by first convincing himself of his own flattery.

Positive feedback being a validation of his own positivity.
The White Knight must include himself in the premises he sells to others, otherwise he cannot collect the rewards these sacrifices will produce.
The Black Knight is best served by knowing, though he may flatter and offer appeasements as part of his lie, because his rewards come from outside the collective premises.

The White Knight is affected by flattery, because insult is devastating his whiteness only sustaining itself within the value standards of the ones he finds identity within.
If he becomes indifferent to judgment it is only when he has decided that it lies outside this collective premise, and so he can neither suffer nor be pleasured by it.
The Dark Knight finds insult revealing, and flattery concealing, particularly when it does not agree with his own judgement.

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Subject: Re: Paralogismos Mon Mar 23, 2015 2:39 pm

Outside the divided quadrants of the chess board the Bishop, black or white, may consider his theoretical views beyond their borders, extending, noetically, infinitely, in all directions, but in whatever direction he imagines himself going, "beyond black white" his perspective remains entrenched firmly upon the one or the other.
He moves and is moved, as if by some external will, but he never crosses the boxes he can play in.

His dualism has imploded into a self-serving singularity...and "beyond black/white", good/evil, means one or the other as it suits the self.
The self as defined by the board and the other chess pieces determining his role and his privileges - his power.
If no God, then some otherness must be the will taking him over, directing him towards victory in defense of a King.

As a self-defined life-affirming, yay-sayer, a yes-man, he will prefer to side with the positive, white, portions, each portion with a perimeter and right-angles to set them apart; his movements will not go outside the white squares on the chessboard, no matter how far in either direction he can project them as stretching.
His "beyond" means a stretching of the absolute, all variations including brilliant white, where details are lost, progressing from dualism towards singular absolutism.
Inside this protective squared space he can roam free, limited only by the movements of other pieces.

An ingression, or regression from the one/nil to only the One and the only Prime.
The explosion of space/time, from the near-absolute one, a duality including its own opposite, imploding into a singularity; cosmic totalitarianism where mathematics and geometry are absolute decrees, and not tools. Decrees announcing the universal power's, values, consciousness, love, will; prison bars restricting entrance - its essence imposing itself upon all processes as a future, declaring the past overcome, or inapplicable, or passe.
A prisoner institutionalized finds the "outside" world too troubling, and will wish he could return back to the prison's internal order - its predictable routines and ritualized behavioral patterns, a welcomes known evil, within which he can, at least, remain sure of some things.

What meaning does time, do seasons, do cycles, have in such quarantined, homogenized, places, where the sun never sets but the lights are turned on, at the same time every day?
You can resent the warden but you are thankful of his presence.

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