The 2 Page Experiments

Author's note: Satyr, I figured since you've been such a good friend, I'd let you in on it.

The How, What, and Why

For months now I’ve been coming on here spilling my brain chatter in a stream of consciousness manner that, accelerated by beer and Jager, has often worked me into a frenzy of ecstasy and speed smear that can sometimes lead to those less than flattering moments we’re all too familiar with, and for which I apologize. But I’m a changed man. I’m taking a different route –at least, temporarily. But first an explanation of the multiplicity that brought me to this point. Recently, I had come to the end of a five year stint of vocational studies that started with me deciding to get a 3rd grade engineers license and visions of me sitting in front of a boiler, making about 15$ an hour, and studying postmodern and critical theory. But due to financial pressures common to us all, I got caught up in it, went on to obtain two OS diplomas in plant maintenance, a CompTia A+ certification, and three more in Microsoft office. The pressure to pad my resume “just a little more” became relentless. And with each chosen goal, there was always a promise to myself that once the task was completed, I would return to my studies in liberal and fine arts. Towards the end, it grew clear that I had fallen into the proverbial trap of the carrot on a stick, and increasingly felt what could only be described as guilt, a sense that, had I been a religious man, I had somehow failed God. Still, it seemed, there was always more I had to do to make myself, as the salesman of my training material told me, recession-proof. Ironically, what really opened my eyes was a rapid onset of cataracts. I felt already, due to my age, the pressure of a decreasing number of productive years. But going 30 to 50 percent blind really brought it home. The urgency of making the best of my time and justifying my point A to point B with those things that did so authentically stood beyond deniability or refute. The cataracts removed, and seeing clearer than ever, I immediately deepened my commitment to reading and this board. It wasn’t long before fate anointed my choice with the announcement that Borders would be closing, thereby initiating a process that, with each price reduction, presented a situation that I, a creature of compulsion, could hardly resist. I repeatedly found myself trudging back with mixed feelings of elation and growing self disgust, often grumbling how I wished they would just close the damn place already.

30 plus books and magazines later, it came to an end. And with piles of books on my end tables and anywhere I could put them, and the daunting task of going through all that reading material, much of which I would have to go over several times to get anything out of, along with some of my older material I equally needed to retread, my situation was complicated by a creative urge that had been long pent up and needed some attention. Furthermore, I had always followed Nietzsche’s prescription of putting my vices to work for me and needed something to do while drinking. But I had always found it best to focus either on input or output, and that any attempt to do both, at the same time, would only result in a general half-assing of all my efforts. But my angst proved unwarranted as I found I could commit most of my time to reading, and then satisfy, to some extent, my creative urge thanks to the drive-by nature of what we do here. Plus that, it gave me something to do while drinking. And therein lays the beauty and efficiency of it, or what I should refer to as a harmonious coexistence of efficiencies: that of my need to read and my creative impulse –not to mention my love of drink. I mean it just worked: the non-committal nature of bouncing off of other articulate and intelligent people in an act that is creative while being almost as natural as conversation. And because of it, I’ve recently felt something I haven’t in quite some time: authentic flow, that spontaneous occurrence of things falling into place and allowing one a taste of the ecstatic –an ecstasy, unfortunately, that can lead to those less than flattering moments and, once again, for which I apologize. But all good things come to an end; and it was only a matter of time before I would feel the need to produce something more finished. As much as I love this, there is equally something to be said for the process of actively shaping a piece of prose, of taking out and adding in (the obsessive tweaking) until one is satisfied, and the brain goes numb and empty, or has to abandon it in despair. There would eventually come a point at which I would have to set the books aside and actively seek to reign it all in, tame it, and turn it into something a little less tentative and a little more polished. Hence: the present experiment.

The rules are fairly simple and based on an exercise I was co-opted into by a friend who was taking a composition course: Word default settings (11 point Font and 1.15 line spacing) so there is no cheating by using smaller ones, and (this is important now!) 2 pages only -not one sentence, not one phrase, not even so much as a word on page three. I explain this because I encourage anyone who wants to polish their own composition skills and try it themselves to post the results here. But, once again, should one post anything with a title and so much as a period on page 3, they shall suffer a frowny face next to their name, their mother informed, and be relentlessly flogged with recommendations as to what sentences can be trimmed. Remember, it can be checked and you can be messaged; so keep the consequences in mind. Furthermore, this is not meant to be some personal one way dialogue. Like any post, they’re there to be commented on. Whether it concerns form, content, or both is up to you. However, should there be a lot of content based responses, to reduce confusion and increase visibility, I will move it, with all relevant comments, to its own string.

That said, I think anyone who has taken a composition course is privy to the why. The purpose is twofold: formal in that the smaller size allows the writer to focus on quality over quantity, things like compression, clarity, and stronger sentences, and content based in that it forces us to focus on the individual elements of our mental constructs, making them stronger and clearer, thereby strengthening the mental construct to which they are a part. This might seem especially challenging to the philosopher/intellectual who depends a lot on deferred meaning. But one could approach it as a rhizome, a point in a process that can spawn another piece, either by elaborating on some particular, or by initiating a new but closely related work. It’s pretty much what we already do; only in this case we take it step by step. Ultimately, I think it is about what my creative writing teacher emphasized in his insistence on compression: that wordiness suggests a lack of faith in the reader, that it’s not a matter of producing a mirror of what’s on one’s mind, but rather a guide, a script for the reader’s imagination, a perspective they can use as they may.

"Λακωνιζην εστι φιλοσοφειν" or something like that.

An old phrase stating that to be laconic is to be philosophical.
The Spartans, once also known as Lekedemonioi - ergo laconic - were known for their terseness.
Of course the Spartans never produced anything of much intellectual value, except their Spartan stance on life and the warrior spirit, whereas the Athenians went on and on until something came out of it.
Monkeys punching on typewriters.

Here's the thing.
To be short is both a test and a restriction.

First it is a test of your own understanding of your own positions.
This is why I have issues with these morons using words like "immanence" or "God" or "Freedom" or "Compassion" or "Love" who have no clue what these words mean.

They just heard them, they sounded nice, they felt good on the tongue and sounded good to the ear, so now they use them as if they are stating something profound when they, themselves, have no fucking clue.
If you can't explain your positions using your own words and using the minimal of flowery prose and popular symbolism - short and simple - then you most probably have no idea what the hell you are talking about.

But...and this is something I discovered early on in my internet "career".

To be short and to the point only manages to make a very few understand you.
The vast majority will have no understanding unless you spoon-feed them your views, making them release the pacifier they've lodged in their mouth and which they suckle on in times of stress.
I've been short...and this only opened me up to attacks which had no reference to my views.
Verbosity, rhetoric, as the ancients practiced it, is a method of influencing mediocre minds.
You have to spell it out for them because otherwise they will jump to conclusions and make you a scapegoat for their own prejudices and fears....I am a goat-man but I hate being sacrificed.

It all depends on the amount of people you wish to reach.
I've recently given up on the many and choose to focus on the few, although my ongoing essay on the Feminization of Mankind is long-winded, repetitive and it does attempt to make the many get-it.

-------
On a side-note...

I too am a drinker, but not like I used to be.
I found that it released my inner energies and quieted my mind long enough to have my spirit come forth unaffected by immediate everyday concerns.
But I think I don't come close to your amount of drinking...so...

Are you married?
Do you hold a job?

Actually, Satyr, I'm almost certain that not many will take up the challenge I presented on ILP. As I think you implied, they're more comfortable with what comes easy.

But this is why I also presented the challenge to you. You've managed the effort of reading my longer posts when no one on ILP would. I can only assume you're a little more ambitious than most people, that you're willing to do more than what pleases you at any given time.

Whatever differences we have, Satyr, I have no choice but to give you a lot more credit than I do others. You work harder and you deserve credit for it.

I am not going to challenge you to do it. I know it's a lot of work. But I will look forward to your version should it come.

That said, this is more about me developing than how others react to it. I want to be good at what I do. I see no other justification for our point A to point B than pushing the mind as far as it will go.

And excellent response, by the way. I related to a lot of it.

Out of curiosity what topic do you have in mind?
Or is it open?

I am presently too busy with a full time job, my rambunctious son and this damn essay I'm trying to complete before the end of the world next year.

Improving yourself is the only motive you require.
It is the only ambition I have.

None of the others interest me, making me a bit weird or "off" as the Brits might say.

Found wealth and popularity to be stale and empty, and women just become too much trouble for the potential end.

Oh:

Not married. Would like to get laid again, but it's not as important to me as what I'm doing here. As I'm sure you well know, most people seem to think that the only reason we do what we do here is because we lack something more mundane and banal to do. A good piece of ass would only make that worse.


As a plant-op in a hospital, I'm doing a lot better than a lot of other people, despite the stresses it involves.

But inflation and circumstances are catching up with me.

I can relate.

Early on I had no clue what all the fuss was about in regards to sex and women.
Females were mysterious, mystical. they never farted or burped and they were always proper and polite and pure.
Of course at the time I also believed in the brotherhood of man, that education was all that stood between vulgar it and virtue and that all deserved to be fed and to be loved.

My awakening was slow. I was a late-bloomer, as I hope all "smart people" are. Sorry for the arrogance.
My son is already showing signs as he does not wish to grow-up. He already knows, somehow, that it's not fun being mature and aware.
This is why most remain immature and adolescent.

Personally I had to grow up, whether I liked it or not.
That's another story.

Later on as I experienced both sex and human relationships in general I realized how simple and base and pathetic it all was.
Sex was nothing to fret about, no more than having a good meal is.

The same nervousness and obsessions and paroxysms grip you both when you are sexually aggravated as when you are hungry...and afterwards the same feelings grip you and you wonder why you went so crazy.

Women hate this, because sex and this "love" they speak of, which is eros and not agape, is their only source of power over men.
Particularly women of a certain intellectual quality feel attracted to men who are indifferent to them and to sex altogether, when compared to the more based kind of man.
The latter they might use and abuse, losing all respect for men because they come to think that the average man, who is beneath the more intelligent female, is a representation of all men.
Or so they prefer to think.

Their sexual power has less influence over a more sophisticated and mature man because understanding decreases the madness required to abandon one's self to hedonism and the relief of the moment.

To be honest I didn't have any interest in marriage and having kids up until my dad died.

Then I went against my own instincts and reasoning and jumped into that cesspool of bullshit.
I knew what was going to happen beforehand and I didn't much mind.
I had a plan, you see: quick in....quick out.
Like a thief.

I'm not much of an actor, my eyes are my tell, but i performed quite well, if I do say so myself.
It involved a kind of self-hypnosis, extended over years. That's when I began abusing alcohol.

Plan didn't go exactly as I had hoped in some ways but in other ways it went better than I has hoped.
Overall it was a bad, but useful experience which left me with more than I lost.

Can't deal with females anymore.
They bore the shit out of me and if it were not for pussy there would be no reason to fraternize.
They are tiresome and far too needy.
Like having a pet or a child.

I met one who was different years ago in another forum.
I was suspicious. She was nothing like what I knew women to be like.

It turns out she was so because she had a strong masculine side. Not quite lesbian but butch.
Which was odd given her angelic face.

I think she hates you.

No shit?!

Congreve, William wrote:

As you'll answer it, take heed
This Slave commit no Violence upon
Himself. I've been deceiv'd. The Publick Safety
Requires he should be more confin'd; and none,
No not the Princes self, permitted to
Confer with him. I'll quit you to the King.
Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent
The base Injustice thou hast done my Love:
Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,
And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;
Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

Expressing a thought in a concise sentence in which every word is carefully weighed and not a single word can be removed without impacting the meaning is a remarkable skill, but one that very few appreciate.

It is easier to eat a bag of pebbles than a brick.

I excercise it nontheless, at the expense of never being understood, and every now and then hearing stuff like this:

Quote :

Maybe the monosyllabic trivialities of the monkeyboy's forum is more on your intellectual level.

I don't know, but just chilling silently over the internet seems like an absurdity. The medium is words, language, you stupid bitch...

Maybe your posts could be folded into a nano-page that can fit into a mite's anus.

Oops...too many words to simply say "Da bitch doth protests too much"

I tell my children to let them say as they will.
I take a small pleasure in putting these frail little things outside and watching them waste away.


I hope that the fruits of your exercise will be made public so that I can see them.

Maybe a haiku can help you, dear?

Here is the quote with the underlying factors you misunderstood in place:

Quote :

Maybe the monosyllabic trivialities of the monkeyboy's forum is more on your intellectual level.

I don't know, but just chilling silently over the internet seems like an absurdity. The medium is words, language, you stupid bitch...

Maybe your posts could be folded into a nano-page that can fit into a mite's anus.

Oops...too many words to simply say "Da bitch doth protests too much"

I should have used more words as you failed to grasp.

More complex ideas require more words, particularly if simpler minds are to understand what little they are able to understand.
Your monosyllabic trivialities failed to express anything but the mundane: constant quips and word-plays with no real focus.

I promise to never respond to you with anything more than a postcard can fit.
Then we'll assume you got it.

It never suprises to be thusly dismissed.
Expected, in fact.
From the mouths of the common.

How common.

Common, the utter insult.
Dare I?

Half assed, half sentences, bearing half witted offenses.

Typical.

The common, pointing at the typical.

Who comes closer to see a rock?

Better to look at a rock and find a diamond, than to look for a diamond and find a rock.

Nihilism

Nihilism does nothing. It always has. Since Socrates’ proclamation that he knew nothing, since the Platonic hierarchy collapsed, under its own weight and emptiness, in the face of the enlightened and romantic, since Nietzsche broke into his Dionysian dance at the death of God and Truth, since the phenomenological reduction of Descartes’ thinking thing to the existential nothingness of consciousness, and since the postmodern break into playful celebration at its coming of age, it’s always been there, waiting, doing nothing. It seems silly to accuse it of things. Yet, we condemn it, bandy it about, loosely, as if its mere association could render an assertion somehow meaningless. But Nihilism does nothing. It doesn’t seek to undermine traditions, dogmas, or assumptions. They passively collapse on it. And when we embrace it, we pin it to our chests, or to that of another, like some badge of honor. But who, truly, can be said to be a nihilist. It doesn’t seek to explain or justify itself; and any utterance or assertion is to do something and, thereby, miss the point. Nietzsche certainly couldn’t pull it off. He said too much, made too many assertions. Nor can any ideology or method be said to synonymous with it. But it was always there doing nothing while we were doing everything. Skepticism was a method by which we worked towards it. Anarchism was a political expression not of it, but us in the face of it. Existentialism? Nihilism with an excuse, thereby, not nihilism. And postmodernism? Once again, a mere celebration, a ticker tape parade and welcome party for what was always home.

In fact, I would argue that the word, itself, is an oxymoron since an “ism” is always doing something. To cop off Wittgenstein, one of the most anti-nihilist of all (but perhaps not as we will explore later): it is a “that” of which we should not speak. Perhaps it would be better to speak of the nihilistic or the nihilistic perspective, of a kind of passing experience or sensation (epiphany perhaps?) that cannot be held or kept or seen strait on, a mere stillness that, like a phantom, can glance the corner of the eye. Yet, it is always before, around, and behind us. Why wouldn’t it be ahead, since it is the foundation, the absurdity, of our here and now? We look back and watch all chains of cause and effect trail away, converge, and dissolve into nothing. It’s amazing we can even move forward, thrashing as we do in this mass-less sea. Yet we do, or seem to do. Propelling in a kind of forward flight, we project out of nothing. We strain, stretch our finger toward something, and, never truly touching it, plunge, at last, back into nothing.

Could this be the upswing? The joy and meaning? The glass half full as differentiated from the glass half empty? I approached this page, the emptiness, a nothing, and made something. Not knowing how it would happen, the words took form, propelling it seemed, out of nothing and gathered this peculiar way out of infinite others. It was as if there were all these bits and pieces looking for a place, any place, a shelter from the nothing. Yet here it is: a testimony to that from which it came. The only potential of nothing is no potential, no fixed direction. This is why we cannot say that the nihilistic obliges us to make no assertions. In fact, it may be a cause to do so, the meaning derived, the fear that compels our flight. In fact, maybe it’s why we dream. We slip away, from alpha to beta, and into theta, and it may be through the noetic images produced in this state that we dip our toe into the nothingness of a deep delta wave sleep. We lay in bed, our thoughts flowing regularly and with meaningful intent. In time, they begin to digress, form sensations until sensations take form, and one those forms darts your way. You jolt awake. What were you afraid of? Or maybe it wasn’t you, but consciousness afraid of its own dissipation, the loss of intentionality? Consciousness is always consciousness of something and in order for a thing to exist, it must, at bottom, perceive that it exists. What would a conscious be that suddenly became conscious of nothing? “I hate sleeping”, the old man says in the movie Moonstruck,” it’s too much like death.” It’s no wonder we flee like we do. It’s in our blood, our history. Greece, at the beginning of civilization (and having just crawled out of the muck) considered nature bad and civilization good and, consequently, its mental constructs, if constructed by the more advanced and civilized, equally good. It’s no wonder Plato would ban the poets from his republic. Passion is for primates, that stage of man that stood between Greece and the nothingness from which it came. Nor is it any wonder, after numerous political and religious tyrannies and atrocities, that these ideal forms would collapse on their own ethereal emptiness, and that the romantics would seek a return to that primal state. But there was a divide, a splitting up into 2 distinct trajectories. The enlightened clung to the ideal forms of reason. And we do it still. We do as Wittgenstein: prescribe a method and pretend it gives us absolutes and certainty. But all we are doing is fleeing, denying, and shutting out the nothing. We cling to the symbolic order and watch the psychotics and junkies slip away into their own little bubbles with their own little systems of meaning. We watch as others, having no solid criteria by which to work, turn to the praxis of power: I have power because I am right, therefore, I am right because I have power. They forget the underlying nothingness of all human constructs and turn smug. Cut-throat capitalists gather, and gather more, as if to fill the void. They’re never satisfied. Players crush hearts as if seeking the underlying emptiness. And serial killers kill as if to reacquaint us with nothing. We think we fear them. But perhaps we fear the nothing. Clearly, the certainty of something, the metaphysic of Presence, could not hold them close. We have to ask why. We have to ask if they sensed the underlying nothingness, the nihilistic, and refusing to deny it, to flee, as most of us “normal” people do, fell into a trap.

So much for the upswing. What went wrong? And why all this rather than nothing? Why did I write? I could have left this blank. But I didn’t. Why? One could say it was to let there be something. But it makes no sense. It’s absurd, clearly a flight from silence, the empty page, the nothingness. What else could it be with so much contradiction? I attempt to explain the nihilistic when the more I write, the further away I get. This wasn’t the piece I expected. This wasn’t the life I expected. Yet here it is. Still, maybe I should have written a poem, or created an image. I shouldn’t have tried to mean, but be. Perhaps I should have done nothing.

phoneutria wrote:

Better to look at a rock and find a diamond, than to look for a diamond and find a rock.

Then you'll be looking a long time amongst the rocks.

Satyr wrote:

To be honest I didn't have any interest in marriage and having kids up until my dad died.

Then I went against my own instincts and reasoning and jumped into that cesspool of bullshit.
I knew what was going to happen beforehand and I didn't much mind.
I had a plan, you see: quick in....quick out.
Like a thief.

I'm not much of an actor, my eyes are my tell, but i performed quite well, if I do say so myself.
It involved a kind of self-hypnosis, extended over years. That's when I began abusing alcohol.

Plan didn't go exactly as I had hoped in some ways but in other ways it went better than I has hoped.
Overall it was a bad, but useful experience which left me with more than I lost.

Can't deal with females anymore.
They bore the shit out of me and if it were not for pussy there would be no reason to fraternize.
They are tiresome and far too needy.
Like having a pet or a child.

I met one who was different years ago in another forum.
I was suspicious. She was nothing like what I knew women to be like.

It turns out she was so because she had a strong masculine side. Not quite lesbian but butch.
Which was odd given her angelic face.

I've had 2 real relationships and a lot of flings in between.

The flings were usually good for about a month then tended to go bad. Of course, you couldn't explain that to me because I was too addicted to the pussy.

But the strangest thing always happened, I always did the opposite of what I should do. I became clingy when I should have let go. I drank more when I should have been keeping my shit together.

It wasn't til after it was over that I figured out what was going on: I instinctively knew it wasn't going to work, so semi-uncounsciously sabotaged the whole thing. Once that honeymoon was over, I subconsciously wanted to get back to what I was doing before, I wanted to get back to my comfort zone.

Nothing is a human concept.

To Will nothing, just as to Will something in the absolute sense, is to Will an end; to will THE end.
Ergo one always wills a value. A value is a comparison of self with other or with an average otherness, as it is judged by the one himself.
To live life, to say "yes' to existence, is to will something better, never something complete or perfect or absolute.

What doe one mean when one says "This is better"?
He says "This is superior than the other"; he says "This is what I wish to strive towards, rather than that"; he says "This striving is what will define me".

So, when somebody wills nothing he defines himself by this willing; and when one wills an ambiguous something, as the very term "some-thing" implies, and if he projects this something as an absolute end, a finality, a end, then he wills his own end.

Because existence is consciously interpreted as need/suffering; because life is a constant towards.
So what did Nietzsche insinuate with his overman?
What did Heidegger, one of his disciples, claimed that existence is temporal.

Therefore the super-man is the man who has overcome the resentment of himself.
He no longer secretly or honestly despise his temporality, for this temporality, this lack is what makes him and his awareness possible.
To embrace life is to embrace this lack, to say yes to this insatiable need; not to surrender to it, but to embrace it, grasp it, gain control over it.
To know yourself is to know every aspect of your need; to be honest about it; to recognize it behind every action, every creation, every desire, every gesture and word.

To know yourself is the first step towards power, as the only power possible is the power over self.
Once self is understood it can be controlled.
Need no longer remains a clouding frenzy leading the mind astray, it becomes a tool.

d63tark wrote:

I've had 2 real relationships and a lot of flings in between.

The flings were usually good for about a month then tended to go bad. Of course, you couldn't explain that to me because I was too addicted to the pussy.

But the strangest thing always happened, I always did the opposite of what I should do. I became clingy when I should have let go. I drank more when I should have been keeping my shit together.

It wasn't til after it was over that I figured out what was going on: I instinctively knew it wasn't going to work, so semi-uncounsciously sabotaged the whole thing. Once that honeymoon was over, I subconsciously wanted to get back to what I was doing before, I wanted to get back to my comfort zone.

Do you fear rejection?

Hate it


(especially when it comes from a woman.

But at the same time,

I like being left for something more than the mundane.


I love being alone enough to actually self actualize.


The ironic thing about this that we actually start out on these things to get chicks


to fan our feathers as it were.


But philosophy is not the kind of thing you try to impress chicks with.

Anyway, gonna gather my dogs

(what I cuddle with at night


(get some more beer


Then I'll be able to carry out my diabolical plan to take over the world.

I always expect rejection, from both sexes.
It's inevitable.

When it does not occur openly it is because a greater need comes into play.


Yes, all begins with the fight over sex.
The idea of dominating a female begins with dominating the female within you, because we are all unities characterized by feminine and masculine attributes.
It begins with the domination of the sexual need, which I consider a secondary one.

Because sex is a later evolutionary development its force is more powerful for it must usurp the basic needs to make itself felt.It is like a powerful drug flooding the brain so that all other considerations, particularly the need for self-cohesion, survival, are overwhelmed.

Biological females being blessed or damned with a more dominant feminine attitude always talk about being taken seriously an as something other than sexual objects but without sex they lose all their power.
What happens is that they then talk the talk, in accordance to prevailing social and cultural standards, but then act in contradiction to it. They always return to sex and relationships and emotions where their only avenue towards power lies.
The male dominated by his own feminine side, the sexual side, Dionysus, is both preferred by women and also not respected.
He is preferred because he becomes putty in her hands; but he is not respected for the very same reason.

This returns us to the paradox of power.
One always deserves or has easy access to what he least needs.
As need increases reaching for what is desired only pushes it away.

Why?
You must consider what existence is:
Flux, experiences as need/suffering.
When one needs another or the other, one exposes a dependence towards it, one exposes a weakness towards it.
But power attracts unintentionally. Females run towards the most aloof male...without knowing why. He cannot fake this aloofness, although it might work for a time, for women have developed an intuition which guides them instinctively.

Satyr wrote:

Nothing is a human concept.

To Will nothing, just as to Will something in the absolute sense, is to Will an end; to will THE end.
Ergo one always wills a value. A value is a comparison of self with other or with an average otherness, as it is judged by the one himself.
To live life, to say "yes' to existence, is to will something better, never something complete or perfect or absolute.

What doe one mean when one says "This is better"?
He says "This is superior than the other"; he says "This is what I wish to strive towards, rather than that"; he says "This striving is what will define me".

So, when somebody wills nothing he defines himself by this willing; and when one wills an ambiguous something, as the very term "some-thing" implies, and if he projects this something as an absolute end, a finality, a end, then he wills his own end.

Because existence is consciously interpreted as need/suffering; because life is a constant towards.
So what did Nietzsche insinuate with his overman?
What did Heidegger, one of his disciples, claimed that existence is temporal.

Therefore the super-man is the man who has overcome the resentment of himself.
He no longer secretly or honestly despise his temporality, for this temporality, this lack is what makes him and his awareness possible.
To embrace life is to embrace this lack, to say yes to this insatiable need; not to surrender to it, but to embrace it, grasp it, gain control over it.
To know yourself is to know every aspect of your need; to be honest about it; to recognize it behind every action, every creation, every desire, every gesture and word.

To know yourself is the first step towards power, as the only power possible is the power over self.
Once self is understood it can be controlled.
Need no longer remains a clouding frenzy leading the mind astray, it becomes a tool.

I always feel a kind of guilt reading your responses because by the time I get to them, given that I've used up my run on other things, I'm never as lucid as I think they warrant.

Nevertheless, I see the intellect behind them. It's the paticulars that often get lost.

But you clearly put forth the effort, Satyr, and I respect that.

Outside of that, you're an asshole. But what would one expect from a modern day Diogenes?

We hope for better, but sometimes we all have to let out our inner Satyr.

To give you an example of mine:

These advertisements you see on late night TV about 3rd world children:

Now first of all, we are working towards a population that the earth may not be able to sustain much longer. But let's get to the point about the 3rd world:

Okay, you're living in a shit-hole shack built on top of a garbage heap. You barely have enough food and drinkable water for yourself. But the only thing you can think of to do is bring a child into the world to share your misery. Now it sucks that this has got to happen to a child. It's innocent. But at the same time I've got the christian childrens fund coming at me trying to get me to spend money I don't have on a child that wouldn't have been born had foreign aid came with advice on birth control.

But equally repulsive to me is that family in America that has about 18+ children. I mean it: fuck them smiling cocksuckers. There is nothing heartwarming about it to me. I don't give a fuck if they can pay for it. They are still using up resources. I think the mother and father should be forced to live with the mother & father in the shit-hole shack on a garbage heap for at least a year.

There comes a point at which your tolerance for the ideas of others gets pushed far enough.