Narcissism, or self-love, is really the only true "love" that most of us know. Who else can we fully control except ourselves? Who else pervades nearly all of our personal thoughts? Who else are we primarily concerned about? No matter what we say, our actions will always betray us. We "love" ourselves first and foremost. Only when we reach a stage of "maturity," for lack of a better term, can we begin to care for others (less the desire for "ownership," dominion, dependency, or object transference). Very few people can acquire such "maturity" in a lifetime.
Am I "full of shit"? You be the judge. Observe the people whom you trust or "love." While narcissistic behavior is often obvious in extreme cases, the same behavior is often noticeable in "regular" people. Only keen observation will detect the subtle and often subliminal signs of self-love. For those who seem flawless in character, watch for subtle hints of hypocrisy. Also observe what may seem like unintentional behavior. In many cases, we will be surprised to note sociopathic behavior. Don't be alarmed. The majority of people are truly sociopathic.
When we train or force people to live by unnatural rules (e.g., arbitrary gender roles, moral dictums, culture), we are asking them to suppress the "inner animal." Of course, the proper term is repression. Unfortunately, there is no way to subdue what is natural. In due time, there will be a leakage of "unacceptable" behavior, eventually culminating in a full breach. That's when we cry out, "Society is collapsing!" or "The end of civilization is near!" The truth is that the "civilization" paradigm has already failed. We are seeing the results right before our very eyes, if we choose to do so.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Walking Cadavers (Reprise)
Last night, I purchased a big-ass cookie at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. The reason? An early celebration for ... nothing!
The long anticipated launch of a new mobile platform by the manufacturer of the tablet computer happened this morning. Two new "smartphones." A new operating system (OS). The tablet computer? Zilch. Out of sight, out of mind. My interest waned rapidly. I don't particularly care about the new OS. I just want the regressions from the last upgrade fixed. Sheesh!
I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library this morning. He mentioned that thefts in the Next Step homeless shelter have increased drastically in the last week. He even had his shoes stolen while he was asleep. Then, there is the infestation of bedbugs.
My homeless buddy pointed out another Next Step resident (there are myriad homeless loitering), a guy probably in his late forties. He's lucky to be alive. He spent over a month in a coma after being brutally beaten in Chinatown one night. His wife was at his side at the hospital during the ordeal, but she passed on because of a prescription drug overdose shortly after his release. Now, he wanders around aimlessly. The couple had temporarily moved to the homeless shelter from subsidized housing because they were planning to return to the mainland.
Every single day, I ponder about how rank-and-file peons like the homeless and myself are spending the only life that we will ever experience in abject poverty, slavery, and mind-numbing redundancy. Is death the only path to freedom?
The long anticipated launch of a new mobile platform by the manufacturer of the tablet computer happened this morning. Two new "smartphones." A new operating system (OS). The tablet computer? Zilch. Out of sight, out of mind. My interest waned rapidly. I don't particularly care about the new OS. I just want the regressions from the last upgrade fixed. Sheesh!
I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library this morning. He mentioned that thefts in the Next Step homeless shelter have increased drastically in the last week. He even had his shoes stolen while he was asleep. Then, there is the infestation of bedbugs.
My homeless buddy pointed out another Next Step resident (there are myriad homeless loitering), a guy probably in his late forties. He's lucky to be alive. He spent over a month in a coma after being brutally beaten in Chinatown one night. His wife was at his side at the hospital during the ordeal, but she passed on because of a prescription drug overdose shortly after his release. Now, he wanders around aimlessly. The couple had temporarily moved to the homeless shelter from subsidized housing because they were planning to return to the mainland.
Every single day, I ponder about how rank-and-file peons like the homeless and myself are spending the only life that we will ever experience in abject poverty, slavery, and mind-numbing redundancy. Is death the only path to freedom?
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Fallacy of Love
For some reason, I was going to comment on Jodi Arias in the "blog." However, I changed my mind. Her face is plastered everywhere on the "tabloid" tube programs. And, baby is definitely a hottie. Baby also gives a whole new meaning to the term, "dangerous." Remember when my buddy, Bud, warned me, "Stay away from [babes], they're dangerous"? Well, I was going to discuss Jodi Arias in terms of the ridiculous gender roles of the failed "civilization" paradigm, the transference mechanism gone awry, and the nefarious role of "ownership" in relationships, friendships, and family.
Alas, I have discussed a couple of the issues many times in the "blog" already. Only the last issue has been neglected. The "ownership society" has always been problematic for me. Hence, in reflecting on my observations, I find that "ownership" has adulterated relationships, friendships, and even family. What we often call "love" is simply an obsessive form of possession. We ultimately want to "own" the other. I am not even certain whether "love" really exists or whether it is truly a human characteristic. I am finding that "love" appears to be a self-imposed obligation, a binding contract with oneself to perform certain self-prescribed duties on behalf of another. We already know that "romantic love" has its origins with the Troubadours. The "love" expressed toward a deity (i.e., transference object) was essentially downgraded toward another human. Marriage, of course, has known "ownership" beginnings. Brides were literally purchased. In any case, we can now see why "love" often fails.
So, why Jodi Arias? Frankly, I had no idea about her notoriety until I kept seeing baby appear on a news program playing on one of the widescreen tubes at the gym. Like clockwork, Jodi Arias appeared on-screen daily during my weight workout. The sound is always turned off, so I could glean very little information. Out of curiosity, I finally searched for news about her. What a story! I need not comment on baby's guilt or innocence. I am merely an observer, the Keeper of Lost Lives.
Alas, I have discussed a couple of the issues many times in the "blog" already. Only the last issue has been neglected. The "ownership society" has always been problematic for me. Hence, in reflecting on my observations, I find that "ownership" has adulterated relationships, friendships, and even family. What we often call "love" is simply an obsessive form of possession. We ultimately want to "own" the other. I am not even certain whether "love" really exists or whether it is truly a human characteristic. I am finding that "love" appears to be a self-imposed obligation, a binding contract with oneself to perform certain self-prescribed duties on behalf of another. We already know that "romantic love" has its origins with the Troubadours. The "love" expressed toward a deity (i.e., transference object) was essentially downgraded toward another human. Marriage, of course, has known "ownership" beginnings. Brides were literally purchased. In any case, we can now see why "love" often fails.
So, why Jodi Arias? Frankly, I had no idea about her notoriety until I kept seeing baby appear on a news program playing on one of the widescreen tubes at the gym. Like clockwork, Jodi Arias appeared on-screen daily during my weight workout. The sound is always turned off, so I could glean very little information. Out of curiosity, I finally searched for news about her. What a story! I need not comment on baby's guilt or innocence. I am merely an observer, the Keeper of Lost Lives.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Belief
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms will be turning 91 years of age next month. So far, no health problems. Moms is perfectly ambulatory, too. Moms has no problem climbing into the cab of my truck. As far as I can ascertain, moms has not changed much over the last twenty years. Just a little slower perhaps. What is the secret to moms' longevity? Eating mostly fruits and vegetables is a factor. However, I am more convinced that moms has derived strength from the determination to live through the fictional Armageddon. Sounds unbelievable, eh? I know, but there's no other explanation.
Beliefs are a powerful medium of thought. A belief does not even have to represent the truth. Belief requires faith. And, faith is often a transference mechanism. In the case of religion, transference is targeted to a non-existent deity. The "self" is surrendered. Then, supposedly miraculous events occur. The weaker or more powerless that a person becomes, the stronger the transference. Strange things. Otherwise, nothing else to report.
Well, the new operating system (OS) for the tablet computer will be launched in two days. Actually, it's the OS for a new line of "smartphones." The OS will allegedly be ported to the tablet computer platform who-knows-when. The tablet computer has already been secretly mummified by the manufacturer. So, the anticipated port of the new OS is simply a belief that rests entirely on faith. Unfortunately, there can be no transference to a supernatural entity. And, as we all know, faith in humans is way overrated.
Beliefs are a powerful medium of thought. A belief does not even have to represent the truth. Belief requires faith. And, faith is often a transference mechanism. In the case of religion, transference is targeted to a non-existent deity. The "self" is surrendered. Then, supposedly miraculous events occur. The weaker or more powerless that a person becomes, the stronger the transference. Strange things. Otherwise, nothing else to report.
Well, the new operating system (OS) for the tablet computer will be launched in two days. Actually, it's the OS for a new line of "smartphones." The OS will allegedly be ported to the tablet computer platform who-knows-when. The tablet computer has already been secretly mummified by the manufacturer. So, the anticipated port of the new OS is simply a belief that rests entirely on faith. Unfortunately, there can be no transference to a supernatural entity. And, as we all know, faith in humans is way overrated.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Nausea
Yesterday, I neglected to mention that I was privy to a most nauseating incident. After running around all morning in search of a protective sleeve for the tablet computer, I finally found myself in the inner courtyard of the public library. I was annoyed and fatigued, so I attempted to lapse into a coma. Moments later, I heard someone babbling away. I opened my eyes to see a fifty-something babe (term used loosely) with bad teeth standing in front of me. "I've seen you looking at me several times," she said. "I could tell by the way you were looking at me that you really wanted to meet me and talk to me." That's odd, I wear extremely dark shades, and I rarely look at anyone. That, by the way, was my cue to get outta there quick.
Well, I suppose that I can live with the hideous protective sleeve for the tablet computer. Do I have a choice? No, nearly all of the "universal" sleeves and cases are not compatible with the odd size of the tablet computer. Why am I always picking losers? Sheesh!
Same ol' Sunday shit. I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) an hour earlier than usual. So, I kept myself occupied by performing a few houseboy chores, divesting more useless paperwork, and surveying my extremely small empire. Last night, I finally updated the operating system on the second tablet computer. Anything and everything to keep from thinking about the ludicrous immortality games. And, of course, another evening at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala.
Well, I suppose that I can live with the hideous protective sleeve for the tablet computer. Do I have a choice? No, nearly all of the "universal" sleeves and cases are not compatible with the odd size of the tablet computer. Why am I always picking losers? Sheesh!
Same ol' Sunday shit. I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) an hour earlier than usual. So, I kept myself occupied by performing a few houseboy chores, divesting more useless paperwork, and surveying my extremely small empire. Last night, I finally updated the operating system on the second tablet computer. Anything and everything to keep from thinking about the ludicrous immortality games. And, of course, another evening at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Absurdity Knows No Bounds
A ridiculous day. Well, I went on a "wild goose chase" to find a new protective sleeve for the primary tablet computer. The old sleeve (originally packaged with the device) was completely worn out. I had to return the cheap sleeve that I purchased because it was too small. I ended up with an expensive, albeit hideous, one instead. Wasted money, obviously. Three hours of time wasted as well.
I was planning to put the second tablet computer in the new protective sleeve, but the new sleeve is too hideous. I will just leave the second tablet computer in its box with the provided sleeve. Anyway, the tablet computer that always travels with me needs the protection. Hideous as the new sleeve may be, it does have adequate padding. Unfortunately, the inside is lined with felt, so the tablet computer ends up coated with lint. What more can I say?
The inability to find an adequate protective sleeve for the tablet computer, the unnecessary expenditure, the wasted time, the pathological desire to protect my useless possessions, all left me completely fatigued. There must be some connection to immortality games, I thought to myself. What isn't connected to immortality games?
I was in a really bad way by the time I arrived at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Why did I purchase a second tablet computer? Why didn't I destroy the first tablet computer during that one memorable fit of rage? Why didn't I divest myself of all computing devices and just use the public computers at the library like the homeless? Hurdy-gurdy videos, that's why. I was enslaved to the Vienna Sausage. The latter sequence of realizations had me on the verge of a genocidal rampage. Then, I espied a kid walking around and reading, "The Zombie Survival Guide." In another true Kierkegaard moment, I saw the full extent of the global absurdity.
The curse of consciousness is the theater of the absurd. Knowing that death is imminent, that the universe is finite, that our solar system will cease to exist, everything down to the possibility that the subatomic particles that comprise all matter and all life may in actuality be vibrating strings ... what are we to make of that? Total absurdity, what else?
I was planning to put the second tablet computer in the new protective sleeve, but the new sleeve is too hideous. I will just leave the second tablet computer in its box with the provided sleeve. Anyway, the tablet computer that always travels with me needs the protection. Hideous as the new sleeve may be, it does have adequate padding. Unfortunately, the inside is lined with felt, so the tablet computer ends up coated with lint. What more can I say?
The inability to find an adequate protective sleeve for the tablet computer, the unnecessary expenditure, the wasted time, the pathological desire to protect my useless possessions, all left me completely fatigued. There must be some connection to immortality games, I thought to myself. What isn't connected to immortality games?
I was in a really bad way by the time I arrived at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Why did I purchase a second tablet computer? Why didn't I destroy the first tablet computer during that one memorable fit of rage? Why didn't I divest myself of all computing devices and just use the public computers at the library like the homeless? Hurdy-gurdy videos, that's why. I was enslaved to the Vienna Sausage. The latter sequence of realizations had me on the verge of a genocidal rampage. Then, I espied a kid walking around and reading, "The Zombie Survival Guide." In another true Kierkegaard moment, I saw the full extent of the global absurdity.
The curse of consciousness is the theater of the absurd. Knowing that death is imminent, that the universe is finite, that our solar system will cease to exist, everything down to the possibility that the subatomic particles that comprise all matter and all life may in actuality be vibrating strings ... what are we to make of that? Total absurdity, what else?
Friday, January 25, 2013
Death Reality
Incidentally, I purchased a big-ass chocolate chip cookie at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala last night. I brought it back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) and heated it up in the filthy microwave oven. The cookie was delicious, though. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
In the "blog" of yesterday, I stated the obvious: death is imminent. Yet, how many people really comprehend that statement? How many people actually think about disappearing permanently, as if one never existed? All those memories and experiences vanishing into thin air, with consciousness completely extinguished. We can't even know what it's like to not exist because we do exist. That's fucking scary, to put it lightly. I, for one, happen to like existing.
"Unrepression" requires that we face the aforementioned truth. We would have to toss aside numerous failed paradigms as well as our main repression mechanism, the "vital lie." Doing so, of course, may result in severe psychopathology. However, I personally do not understand how the "vital lie" can sustain sanity, especially if there is even one minor doubt present. Every "vital lie" has its vulnerabilities. Sooner or later, the "vital lie" must come crashing down.
Yet, what purpose does our pondering of mortality serve? Can we change our lives to reflect the positive aspects of such an endeavor? Are there positive aspects at all? Ernest Becker was not able to offer any concrete solutions in his book, "The Denial of Death." However, he believed that humanity could make profound changes within the construct of society by means of accepting the death reality. I find the latter to be wishful thinking. Society-at-large is engaged in immortality games more than ever. The "vital lie" has become an extremely embedded way of life.
Can we then apply the death reality to the individual at the least? Can we do away with "transference" schemes? Can we convert the fear of mortality into productive energy that serves all of us who are alive now? Finally, can we dispense with the moronic immortality games?
In the "blog" of yesterday, I stated the obvious: death is imminent. Yet, how many people really comprehend that statement? How many people actually think about disappearing permanently, as if one never existed? All those memories and experiences vanishing into thin air, with consciousness completely extinguished. We can't even know what it's like to not exist because we do exist. That's fucking scary, to put it lightly. I, for one, happen to like existing.
"Unrepression" requires that we face the aforementioned truth. We would have to toss aside numerous failed paradigms as well as our main repression mechanism, the "vital lie." Doing so, of course, may result in severe psychopathology. However, I personally do not understand how the "vital lie" can sustain sanity, especially if there is even one minor doubt present. Every "vital lie" has its vulnerabilities. Sooner or later, the "vital lie" must come crashing down.
Yet, what purpose does our pondering of mortality serve? Can we change our lives to reflect the positive aspects of such an endeavor? Are there positive aspects at all? Ernest Becker was not able to offer any concrete solutions in his book, "The Denial of Death." However, he believed that humanity could make profound changes within the construct of society by means of accepting the death reality. I find the latter to be wishful thinking. Society-at-large is engaged in immortality games more than ever. The "vital lie" has become an extremely embedded way of life.
Can we then apply the death reality to the individual at the least? Can we do away with "transference" schemes? Can we convert the fear of mortality into productive energy that serves all of us who are alive now? Finally, can we dispense with the moronic immortality games?
Thursday, January 24, 2013
One Thought
Lots of rain for the past two days. Lots of stupidity, too. Why does stupidity go asymptotic when there's rain? My patience was tested, and I almost went "ballistic" a few times. Mortality makes old codgers very grumpy.
I feared that I would have to cancel my evening outing due to rain. Thank Molech, the rain stopped while I was working out at the gym. An hour earlier, my homeless buddy and I had walked through the downpour into the center of town. The evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala is important. I can't really sit all night in my sarcophagus at the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing), at least not while I am still ambulatory. Sheesh!
Well, I really have no new thoughts for the day. Actually, when do I ever have any new thoughts? Thinking is getting old anyway, if you know what I mean. An entire lifetime can pass when engaged in endless thinking. And, thinking is not going to achieve immortality. There's only one thought worth knowing: death is imminent. Everything else is moot.
I feared that I would have to cancel my evening outing due to rain. Thank Molech, the rain stopped while I was working out at the gym. An hour earlier, my homeless buddy and I had walked through the downpour into the center of town. The evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala is important. I can't really sit all night in my sarcophagus at the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing), at least not while I am still ambulatory. Sheesh!
Well, I really have no new thoughts for the day. Actually, when do I ever have any new thoughts? Thinking is getting old anyway, if you know what I mean. An entire lifetime can pass when engaged in endless thinking. And, thinking is not going to achieve immortality. There's only one thought worth knowing: death is imminent. Everything else is moot.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Immortality Games (Reprise)
Anxiety has become a problem, although I have not been paralyzed by fear. I assume that I am going through "unrepression." Well, that's what the truth is supposed to do. So, I have become hypervigilant about my remaining time on the planet. Stupidity has become intolerable. Even being in close proximity to other people has become totally unbearable. I am at wit's end.
Same ol' shit. There, I had to throw that old line in yet again. My only social interactions were with the homeless. I really don't mind chatting with any of them. They expect nothing of me. I expect nothing of them. In fact, I consider myself to be in the same class (i.e., losers).
Well, I have been holding back on the purchase of gold bars because I don't really know how to protect the investment once I take physical possession. A bank safe deposit box is out of the question. Yet, the ticking time bomb that is the global financial "system" is ready to explode. The latest foolishness is that student loan debt in the empire is now over a trillion dollars. A "bubble," you think? Why are students bothering to obtain a useless university diploma? Decent jobs are long gone. There are going to be hella defaults coming.
The moneychangers and powers-that-be also have plans for the empire's senior citizen entitlement programs. The smarmy bastards are using trickery to dismantle the programs. They want to raise the eligible age to seventy years. How many people even live that long? Later, they will raise the eligibility to eighty years of age. Of course, they will claim that the programs are still intact. Yet, few rank-and-file peons will live long enough to collect. Yeah, more stupid immortality games.
I am getting to be too old to deal with moronic immortality games. However, I have always suspected that the entire "system" would collapse just as I become a helpless and decrepit senior citizen. All hell will break loose, and I would be a "sitting duck" for predators and psychopaths in a post-collapse world. I am sure that many of you will be in the same pathetic situation. What will we do?
Same ol' shit. There, I had to throw that old line in yet again. My only social interactions were with the homeless. I really don't mind chatting with any of them. They expect nothing of me. I expect nothing of them. In fact, I consider myself to be in the same class (i.e., losers).
Well, I have been holding back on the purchase of gold bars because I don't really know how to protect the investment once I take physical possession. A bank safe deposit box is out of the question. Yet, the ticking time bomb that is the global financial "system" is ready to explode. The latest foolishness is that student loan debt in the empire is now over a trillion dollars. A "bubble," you think? Why are students bothering to obtain a useless university diploma? Decent jobs are long gone. There are going to be hella defaults coming.
The moneychangers and powers-that-be also have plans for the empire's senior citizen entitlement programs. The smarmy bastards are using trickery to dismantle the programs. They want to raise the eligible age to seventy years. How many people even live that long? Later, they will raise the eligibility to eighty years of age. Of course, they will claim that the programs are still intact. Yet, few rank-and-file peons will live long enough to collect. Yeah, more stupid immortality games.
I am getting to be too old to deal with moronic immortality games. However, I have always suspected that the entire "system" would collapse just as I become a helpless and decrepit senior citizen. All hell will break loose, and I would be a "sitting duck" for predators and psychopaths in a post-collapse world. I am sure that many of you will be in the same pathetic situation. What will we do?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Absurd, Very Absurd
Last night, I viewed the flick, "The Death and Life of Bobby Z," on our favorite free movie site. Lots of gratuitous violence. A pretty good flick nonetheless.
This morning, I chatted with my homeless buddy and Ralph, former community college dean, respectively, at the public library. My homeless buddy filled me in on the latest antics at the Next Step homeless shelter. Ralph was on his way to do more research for a book that he is authoring. He mentioned that another teaching position will most likely be available next Fall.
I also read the chapter titled, "Bare Life: Restroom Anxiety and the Urge for Control," from the book, "Against Security: How We Go Wrong at Airports, Subways, and Other Sites of Ambiguous Danger," by Harvey Molotch. The chapter doesn't quite fit the theme of the book. Molotch, however, accurately describes the extent to which humans will deny their basic animal functions. Denial of our animal nature is, of course, one of the tenets of the denial of mortality. Pure absurdity.
Well, I have become both restless and anxious. Yet, I feel more aware, more conscious. For months now, I have been practicing the art of observing anything and everything with all of my senses. I even attempt to visualize everything at the cellular and atomic level. Obviously, I am no Kierkegaard. However, I am striving to "experience" life in a profound manner. Then, when I subsequently open my field of vision to the general human activity around me, I find myself muttering, "This ... is ... absurd."
This morning, I chatted with my homeless buddy and Ralph, former community college dean, respectively, at the public library. My homeless buddy filled me in on the latest antics at the Next Step homeless shelter. Ralph was on his way to do more research for a book that he is authoring. He mentioned that another teaching position will most likely be available next Fall.
I also read the chapter titled, "Bare Life: Restroom Anxiety and the Urge for Control," from the book, "Against Security: How We Go Wrong at Airports, Subways, and Other Sites of Ambiguous Danger," by Harvey Molotch. The chapter doesn't quite fit the theme of the book. Molotch, however, accurately describes the extent to which humans will deny their basic animal functions. Denial of our animal nature is, of course, one of the tenets of the denial of mortality. Pure absurdity.
Well, I have become both restless and anxious. Yet, I feel more aware, more conscious. For months now, I have been practicing the art of observing anything and everything with all of my senses. I even attempt to visualize everything at the cellular and atomic level. Obviously, I am no Kierkegaard. However, I am striving to "experience" life in a profound manner. Then, when I subsequently open my field of vision to the general human activity around me, I find myself muttering, "This ... is ... absurd."
Monday, January 21, 2013
No Time For Holidays VIII
Gold repatriation is starting to pick up. Venezuela, Iran, Libya, and now Germany. There seems to be a general uneasiness about storing gold in another nation's central bank, what, with the rampant fraud and all. I imagine that the currency war is heating up, and the bond market may be ripe for a major correction. In the general Beckerian scheme, we're simply experiencing more fallout from the on-going immortality games.
I am not certain whether Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," will be divested. I have gleaned all the information possible from it, but the book transcends everyday relevance. We're not talking about holy scripture here. Ernest Becker is far from a prophet. As I stated previously, he offers no solutions to the existential conundrum. Neither does he offer hope. He is the curator for a vast archive of great thinkers. From that, he has distilled the truth of mortal reality.
On a side note, I perused the book, "Kierkegaard For Beginners," by Donald Palmer while at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. It's a pretty humorous book complete with illustrations by the author. My favorite illustration finds a larger-than-life Kierkegaard peering over people milling about while muttering to himself, "This ... is ... absurd." Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
I am not certain whether Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," will be divested. I have gleaned all the information possible from it, but the book transcends everyday relevance. We're not talking about holy scripture here. Ernest Becker is far from a prophet. As I stated previously, he offers no solutions to the existential conundrum. Neither does he offer hope. He is the curator for a vast archive of great thinkers. From that, he has distilled the truth of mortal reality.
On a side note, I perused the book, "Kierkegaard For Beginners," by Donald Palmer while at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. It's a pretty humorous book complete with illustrations by the author. My favorite illustration finds a larger-than-life Kierkegaard peering over people milling about while muttering to himself, "This ... is ... absurd." Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Transference
Back to the same ol' Sunday shit. Actually, I find that I would rather be loitering at the coffee shop right around the corner from the gym than anywhere else. I am also noticing that the coffee tastes better than the brew served at the fast food joint. I may now have the incentive to cut back on my coffee consumption.
I ran into Kevin, the burly homeless guy, just as I was exiting the gym this afternoon. He said that he's a changed man. He has been attending a Bible study session every evening. As a result, he claimed to be emancipated from cheap booze. He has also revised his outlook concerning people that he previously disliked.
Kevin is apparently applying the act of Freudian transference in establishing his "vital lie," at least according to Ernest Becker in "The Denial of Death." He has placed his burden squarely upon the shoulders of a higher power, be it Jesus or God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam). That's the "belief" and "faith" adamantly referenced by Søren Kierkegaard.
The "vital lie" is a tool of repression. We repress whatever causes us anxiety (e.g., fear of death). Yet, I have to wonder. There was a time when humans did not possess even the crudest form of religion. There was no "vital lie," no repression. So, why can't we "unrepress"? Why can humans no longer "stand on their own two feet"? Why must we rely upon transference to a more powerful, often fictional, being?
I ran into Kevin, the burly homeless guy, just as I was exiting the gym this afternoon. He said that he's a changed man. He has been attending a Bible study session every evening. As a result, he claimed to be emancipated from cheap booze. He has also revised his outlook concerning people that he previously disliked.
Kevin is apparently applying the act of Freudian transference in establishing his "vital lie," at least according to Ernest Becker in "The Denial of Death." He has placed his burden squarely upon the shoulders of a higher power, be it Jesus or God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam). That's the "belief" and "faith" adamantly referenced by Søren Kierkegaard.
The "vital lie" is a tool of repression. We repress whatever causes us anxiety (e.g., fear of death). Yet, I have to wonder. There was a time when humans did not possess even the crudest form of religion. There was no "vital lie," no repression. So, why can't we "unrepress"? Why can humans no longer "stand on their own two feet"? Why must we rely upon transference to a more powerful, often fictional, being?
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Asphyxiation
I didn't feel like stopping off at the fast food joint in Kahala early this morning, so I ended up at the coffee shop around the corner from the gym. Then, another laborious day at the public library. Essentially, same ol' shit.
The highlight of the day was the near asphyxiation of myself and several other gym members this afternoon. For some reason, several brain donors were applying some kind of sealant onto the walkway outside the gym, oblivious to the air conditioning intake ducts right above them. The entire gym was filled with toxic fumes. My nose was running. I felt lightheaded, yet I stupidly completed most of my workout. When I finally heard other people coughing and choking nearby, I knew that I needed to vacate the gym quickly. What a maroon!
Although I completed the second reading of the book, "The Denial of Death," by Ernest Becker, I am still in possession of my personal copy. I have taken a short break from the subject matter for obvious reasons. In the meantime, I have not been able to find any book worthy of reading. Pretty much everything is crap, just like the moronic programming on the tube. So, I simply flip through the pages of potential book candidates while at the public library. After Ernest Becker, what's left? Well, I may commence the reading of the philosophy classics. I need material of substance, not the junk related to the failed "civilization" paradigm or the results of the latter.
I am not at all certain that I can wholeheartedly embrace any "vital lie" anymore. The truth has set me free. Well, sort of. Humanity has gone off in the wrong direction, following failed paradigms without skepticism. Now, humanity will pay the price for its folly. I cannot fool myself any further. We're really on the brink of self-destruction, the proverbial "tipping point." All it's going to take is one significant event. I shudder to think about it. Yeah, all for the sake of immortality.
The highlight of the day was the near asphyxiation of myself and several other gym members this afternoon. For some reason, several brain donors were applying some kind of sealant onto the walkway outside the gym, oblivious to the air conditioning intake ducts right above them. The entire gym was filled with toxic fumes. My nose was running. I felt lightheaded, yet I stupidly completed most of my workout. When I finally heard other people coughing and choking nearby, I knew that I needed to vacate the gym quickly. What a maroon!
Although I completed the second reading of the book, "The Denial of Death," by Ernest Becker, I am still in possession of my personal copy. I have taken a short break from the subject matter for obvious reasons. In the meantime, I have not been able to find any book worthy of reading. Pretty much everything is crap, just like the moronic programming on the tube. So, I simply flip through the pages of potential book candidates while at the public library. After Ernest Becker, what's left? Well, I may commence the reading of the philosophy classics. I need material of substance, not the junk related to the failed "civilization" paradigm or the results of the latter.
I am not at all certain that I can wholeheartedly embrace any "vital lie" anymore. The truth has set me free. Well, sort of. Humanity has gone off in the wrong direction, following failed paradigms without skepticism. Now, humanity will pay the price for its folly. I cannot fool myself any further. We're really on the brink of self-destruction, the proverbial "tipping point." All it's going to take is one significant event. I shudder to think about it. Yeah, all for the sake of immortality.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Random Fodder (Again)
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala over an hour later than usual this evening. I have come to rely on the on-line GPS locator, but it appears to be only half-reliable.
Word has it that debris from Fukushima has arrived in Hawai'i via the ocean. Nothing on the potential radioactivity or whether any of it is associated with the ill-fated nuclear power plant.
I am having dental problems again, specifically the left, lower molar that had a root canal many moons ago. The pain has returned. Most likely, the small pocket (due to tooth erosion) below the gumline is infected again. I can't even apply the water flosser there because of the pain. As you may recall, the poor tooth has already cost me several thousand dollars. I am pretty certain that, during the next dental appointment, I will be told that the tooth needs to be extracted. Not good.
Well, I am still divesting useless crap, mostly small items. Even superfluous consumables are not immune, most of which will not be replaced when depleted. Whether I become homeless or not, I don't want to be bogged down by all kinds of junk.
Word has it that debris from Fukushima has arrived in Hawai'i via the ocean. Nothing on the potential radioactivity or whether any of it is associated with the ill-fated nuclear power plant.
I am having dental problems again, specifically the left, lower molar that had a root canal many moons ago. The pain has returned. Most likely, the small pocket (due to tooth erosion) below the gumline is infected again. I can't even apply the water flosser there because of the pain. As you may recall, the poor tooth has already cost me several thousand dollars. I am pretty certain that, during the next dental appointment, I will be told that the tooth needs to be extracted. Not good.
Well, I am still divesting useless crap, mostly small items. Even superfluous consumables are not immune, most of which will not be replaced when depleted. Whether I become homeless or not, I don't want to be bogged down by all kinds of junk.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Zombie Freedom
Yesterday, I made a brief allusion to sanity. What is sanity? Is anyone truly sane? In his book, "The Denial of Death," Ernest Becker asserted that everyone is neurotic, just varying by degree. For the extremely neurotic, the clinically insane, there is no "vital lie." They are, in fact, more keenly aware of "truth." Ironic, eh?
Well, I have discussed the absolute truths previously (refer to the "blog" of July of two years ago). I still stand by them. Now, I must append another item: the only true realization of freedom is death. With all of the recursive levels of slavery that humans have instituted for themselves, there is now only one way out.
I have been pondering what I could use for my own "vital lie." Nothing yet. Sad, considering that I may only have twenty years left. What about distractions? What about aspirations? What do I want to do to enjoy my remaining time? I don't even know. Perhaps I should just purchase a "smartphone" and become yet another zombie user. Heck, the zombies appear to be quite satiated.
Well, a zombie is essentially a walking cadaver. Perhaps the latter state is about as close as we can come to realizing freedom while semi-alive. Is it better to be a zombie or just clinically insane?
Well, I have discussed the absolute truths previously (refer to the "blog" of July of two years ago). I still stand by them. Now, I must append another item: the only true realization of freedom is death. With all of the recursive levels of slavery that humans have instituted for themselves, there is now only one way out.
I have been pondering what I could use for my own "vital lie." Nothing yet. Sad, considering that I may only have twenty years left. What about distractions? What about aspirations? What do I want to do to enjoy my remaining time? I don't even know. Perhaps I should just purchase a "smartphone" and become yet another zombie user. Heck, the zombies appear to be quite satiated.
Well, a zombie is essentially a walking cadaver. Perhaps the latter state is about as close as we can come to realizing freedom while semi-alive. Is it better to be a zombie or just clinically insane?
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Convergence
Same ol' shit. Not much to report, except that I restored my extreme monk haircut. My homeless buddy was at the public library this morning. He is still willing to assist me in applying for residency at the Next Step homeless shelter. He believes that he has another housing opportunity coming up, so his tenure at homeless shelter may be coming to an end. I also ran into the young war veteran buddy on the bus this afternoon. I am, of course, observing firsthand how people live and enjoy the "vital lie."
In my own case, I have essentially exited all aspects of society. So, I have also discarded all candidates for the "vital lie." Unfortunately, no one can live sanely for long without the "vital lie." The real obstacle is that I am a senior citizen. I am too old to fool myself about my mortality. There are also fewer avenues to pursue, thanks to age discrimination.
Without the comfort of my own personal "vital lie," I embarked on the journey to find "truth," or at least what is humanly possible to find. The "truth," of course, will set us free ... from the "vital lie." Yeah, we've gone full circle. Nonetheless, the search continues. Somewhere, the "vital lie" and "truth" converges. Somewhere. In the meantime, same ol' shit.
In my own case, I have essentially exited all aspects of society. So, I have also discarded all candidates for the "vital lie." Unfortunately, no one can live sanely for long without the "vital lie." The real obstacle is that I am a senior citizen. I am too old to fool myself about my mortality. There are also fewer avenues to pursue, thanks to age discrimination.
Without the comfort of my own personal "vital lie," I embarked on the journey to find "truth," or at least what is humanly possible to find. The "truth," of course, will set us free ... from the "vital lie." Yeah, we've gone full circle. Nonetheless, the search continues. Somewhere, the "vital lie" and "truth" converges. Somewhere. In the meantime, same ol' shit.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Neurosis (Continued)
One striking observation that I made during the course of reading Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," was the absence of any reference to Viktor Frankl. Then, I realized why. Frankl's assertions in establishing a meaningful life with purpose (as opposed to the "existential vacuum") require that we embrace, dive in, and fully live the "vital lie." To be fair to Frankl, that's exactly what most people do. Problems result, of course, when we are able to see beyond the "vital lie." We can no longer deceive ourselves. There's no return to bliss.
Becker himself can offer no solutions to the existential dilemma. Of course, the efficacy of the "vital lie" revolves around its ability to effect "transference" to an object or entity that transcends human shortcomings. In other words, it must be greater than humanity. Otherwise, the enterprise is doomed to failure.
Stupidity may very well be a blessing insofar as maintaining the "vital lie." Stupidity allows us to lock ourselves in the prison of rote and repetitive agendas. We give in to various forms of slavery for the paltry rewards and questionable security it affords. The mind is occupied with endless distractions of relative worth. Time passes.
What about freedom? What about truth? Do either really matter anymore? Is consciousness just a cruel evolutionary joke? Can we ever get past the immortality games?
Becker himself can offer no solutions to the existential dilemma. Of course, the efficacy of the "vital lie" revolves around its ability to effect "transference" to an object or entity that transcends human shortcomings. In other words, it must be greater than humanity. Otherwise, the enterprise is doomed to failure.
Stupidity may very well be a blessing insofar as maintaining the "vital lie." Stupidity allows us to lock ourselves in the prison of rote and repetitive agendas. We give in to various forms of slavery for the paltry rewards and questionable security it affords. The mind is occupied with endless distractions of relative worth. Time passes.
What about freedom? What about truth? Do either really matter anymore? Is consciousness just a cruel evolutionary joke? Can we ever get past the immortality games?
Monday, January 14, 2013
Neurosis
The last three chapters of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," have proven to be the most interesting. Although I am reading them for the second time, I am coming away with a lot more insight. Previously, I made the sweeping generalization that Becker endorsed religion as one of the only ways to transcend the neurosis caused by living the "vital lie." What he meant was that something similar to old-time religion would be required because humans and human institutions have failed to supercede "God." In other words, we cannot serve as the proto-hero to ourselves.
Then, there's the issue of neurosis itself. What is neurosis? Who is neurotic? Apparently, we are all neurotic in varying degrees. Those of us who can live the "vital lie" without much thought are better adjusted, simply because of a better fit within general society. Those of us who question and reject the "vital lie" become extremely neurotic without an outlet (e.g., creativity) of expression.
I have essentially exited society, no longer able to tolerate the "vital lie." However, I am not an artist or musician. Neither am I a genocidal maniac. I have no outlet of expression. I am no longer entertained by the world's folly or the antics of its human inhabitants. I cannot simply forget the fallacy of the "vital lie" and return to society. If I did, I would be living two lies. Not acceptable. Well, aside from that, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
Then, there's the issue of neurosis itself. What is neurosis? Who is neurotic? Apparently, we are all neurotic in varying degrees. Those of us who can live the "vital lie" without much thought are better adjusted, simply because of a better fit within general society. Those of us who question and reject the "vital lie" become extremely neurotic without an outlet (e.g., creativity) of expression.
I have essentially exited society, no longer able to tolerate the "vital lie." However, I am not an artist or musician. Neither am I a genocidal maniac. I have no outlet of expression. I am no longer entertained by the world's folly or the antics of its human inhabitants. I cannot simply forget the fallacy of the "vital lie" and return to society. If I did, I would be living two lies. Not acceptable. Well, aside from that, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Lexicon
The day transpired without incident, nearly a clone of last Sunday. The evening? The den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, of course! No tablet computer malfunction, thank goodness. In other words, same ol' shit. However, I treated myself to a delicious, albeit expensive, strawberry banana smoothie while I was at the bookstore.
I still have not completed the second reading of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." I am surprised at how much I missed on the first pass. In the back of my mind, though, I cannot help but wonder whether human existential issues only date back just a few centuries. So-called "modern humans" have been around for over one hundred thousand years, but what sufficed as language had a decreasing lexicon further back in time. How could they have suffered anxieties over concepts that could not even be expressed symbolically? Complex language leads to complex lives with complex problems.
The origin of human language and speech are quite puzzling. How did early humans use strange vocalizations and convert them into words? The entire progression of linguistics is difficult to grasp. Yet, young children learn spoken language fairly quickly. It is as if the earliest humans had to already be gifted with language. Otherwise, how would they even know how to speak, no less think?
I still have not completed the second reading of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." I am surprised at how much I missed on the first pass. In the back of my mind, though, I cannot help but wonder whether human existential issues only date back just a few centuries. So-called "modern humans" have been around for over one hundred thousand years, but what sufficed as language had a decreasing lexicon further back in time. How could they have suffered anxieties over concepts that could not even be expressed symbolically? Complex language leads to complex lives with complex problems.
The origin of human language and speech are quite puzzling. How did early humans use strange vocalizations and convert them into words? The entire progression of linguistics is difficult to grasp. Yet, young children learn spoken language fairly quickly. It is as if the earliest humans had to already be gifted with language. Otherwise, how would they even know how to speak, no less think?
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Reconnected Ad Nauseam IV
I was rudely awakened at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in the wee hours of the morning by the pungent odor of petrol. Apparently, one of Tom's two decrepit motorcycles sprung a leak. It didn't help that he had parked both of them right under the kitchen window, which is about a couple of feet away from the window of my squalid room. I spent an hour trying desperately to clear the air in my squalid room, but to no avail. Remember, all of that was happening in the wee hours of the morning. I should have just gone outside and slept in my truck. I left a note asking Tom to move his motorcycles.
I was rather fatigued from lack of sleep, to say the least. When I alighted the bus after a circuitous route to the public library, I was surprised to see my homeless buddy awaiting my arrival. He had his bicycle with him. We walked to Restaurant Row. I found a table to sit at while my homeless buddy rode his bike to Chinatown. When he returned, he had a large package of food from the Vietnamese restaurant that we had dined at last time. So, we enjoyed a delicious lunch while chatting.
My homeless buddy mentioned that another homeless guy tried to pick a fight with him during dinner at the Next Step homeless shelter. He also told me that the population is segregated into basically three groups: locals (i.e., Asian, Hawai'ian, etc.), Micronesians, and Whites. He also provided a few more anecdotal tales about life in the shelter. We chatted about Vietnam, where he is originally from, specifically what was once South Vietnam. Quite intriguing.
After our long lunch, my homeless buddy and I parted company. He rode his bike back to the Next Step shelter. I walked to the gym. I was still fatigued. And, all I could smell was the sickening odor of petrol. The rest of the day? Same ol' shit, until I returned to Slob Manor. I immediately observed that Tom's decrepit motorcycles had not been moved. Inside the dump, the kitchen was fully engulfed in petrol fumes. My squalid room was no better, even though I had shut the glass louvers as tightly as possible. The sarcophagus was extremely stuffy and still stinking of petrol. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I moved the offending motorcycle and covered the puddle of petrol with powdered detergent. A few minutes later, I ran into Tom. He assured me that he would remedy the problem. Well, at least the wireless Net access was miraculously reestablished.
Every time that I engage in extended conversation with my homeless buddy, I am convinced that he is an honorable guy. He is very generous and charitable with those in need. Even though he is stuck in a homeless shelter, he is always cheerful and friendly. I always come away feeling like an empty shell. My own existential crisis seems so vacant. Nothing seems important.
I was rather fatigued from lack of sleep, to say the least. When I alighted the bus after a circuitous route to the public library, I was surprised to see my homeless buddy awaiting my arrival. He had his bicycle with him. We walked to Restaurant Row. I found a table to sit at while my homeless buddy rode his bike to Chinatown. When he returned, he had a large package of food from the Vietnamese restaurant that we had dined at last time. So, we enjoyed a delicious lunch while chatting.
My homeless buddy mentioned that another homeless guy tried to pick a fight with him during dinner at the Next Step homeless shelter. He also told me that the population is segregated into basically three groups: locals (i.e., Asian, Hawai'ian, etc.), Micronesians, and Whites. He also provided a few more anecdotal tales about life in the shelter. We chatted about Vietnam, where he is originally from, specifically what was once South Vietnam. Quite intriguing.
After our long lunch, my homeless buddy and I parted company. He rode his bike back to the Next Step shelter. I walked to the gym. I was still fatigued. And, all I could smell was the sickening odor of petrol. The rest of the day? Same ol' shit, until I returned to Slob Manor. I immediately observed that Tom's decrepit motorcycles had not been moved. Inside the dump, the kitchen was fully engulfed in petrol fumes. My squalid room was no better, even though I had shut the glass louvers as tightly as possible. The sarcophagus was extremely stuffy and still stinking of petrol. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I moved the offending motorcycle and covered the puddle of petrol with powdered detergent. A few minutes later, I ran into Tom. He assured me that he would remedy the problem. Well, at least the wireless Net access was miraculously reestablished.
Every time that I engage in extended conversation with my homeless buddy, I am convinced that he is an honorable guy. He is very generous and charitable with those in need. Even though he is stuck in a homeless shelter, he is always cheerful and friendly. I always come away feeling like an empty shell. My own existential crisis seems so vacant. Nothing seems important.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Disconnected Ad Nauseam VII
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I discovered that there was no Net connection. The wireless router was functioning, so either the cable service was out or the cable modem is fried. Same ol' shit.
Once at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, I spent some time at the "fruity" computer store. I was able to check the system status for the cable service provider. Nothing listed. So, the problem is isolated to Slob Manor. Why am I not surprised? The rest of my time was spent at the bookstore with my tablet computer.
Well, perhaps my current limited Net access is an omen that I should take a brief break from the mind-boggling topic of immortality games. Anyway I should complete the second reading of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," before continuing the discussion. I am planning to subsequently donate the book to the public library. Did I already mention that there is nothing to report?
Once at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, I spent some time at the "fruity" computer store. I was able to check the system status for the cable service provider. Nothing listed. So, the problem is isolated to Slob Manor. Why am I not surprised? The rest of my time was spent at the bookstore with my tablet computer.
Well, perhaps my current limited Net access is an omen that I should take a brief break from the mind-boggling topic of immortality games. Anyway I should complete the second reading of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," before continuing the discussion. I am planning to subsequently donate the book to the public library. Did I already mention that there is nothing to report?
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Immortality Games
Can we humans really come to wholeheartedly accept death? I don't think so, not unless we are forced to do so by some unfortunate event as a terminal illness. Therein lies the problem, the conundrum of the "curse of consciousness." The fear and denial of mortality cannot be conquered. We must always live with the "vital lie," as Ernest Becker calls it. Otherwise, we would lapse into chronic despair.
We could seek out hope in the form of religion or New Age spirituality. Hope can carry us through to the end, but it is also a "vital lie." The desperate mind is willing to grasp at just about anything to preserve the fallacy of immortality. Hope, of course, is just another mechanism of repression. Along with hope, there is belief, usually in the supernatural. Yes, the human mind is capable of believing anything in order to preserve itself.
The mind is our own worst enemy. Our symbolic mind and associated lexicon have enabled us to expand the dimensions of our thinking space. Thus, we have invented concepts such as meaning, purpose, and immortality. Without language, none of that could even be contemplated. Did early humans worry about meaning and purpose before the actual words were constructed? Was immortality even an issue back then?
When the mind becomes powerful and expansive, it assigns a higher value to itself. Eventually it comes to believe that it is nearly omnipotent. Thus, it eludes itself into believing that it cannot ... must not perish. It then attempts to will itself immortal. Yet, the brain is part of an animal body, a mortal container. That's the duality of which Becker describes as the source of an immense struggle within ourselves.
That's why we continue to play the same immortality games over and over again. We cannot come to grips with the cruel joke that is mortality. We use the "vital lie" to repress the fear, but repression is temporary relief at best. The fear is still there, festering below the surface, waiting to burst forth and wreak havoc.
And, wreak havoc it does. Take a good look around. The immortality games are totally out of control. People from all walks of life are going berserk. The repression is only keeping the cause from being revealed. However, actions can no longer be concealed and have violently burst forth. The entire species, feeling betrayed, is going to resort to a desperate kind of heroics, which will ultimately terminate the immortality games.
We could seek out hope in the form of religion or New Age spirituality. Hope can carry us through to the end, but it is also a "vital lie." The desperate mind is willing to grasp at just about anything to preserve the fallacy of immortality. Hope, of course, is just another mechanism of repression. Along with hope, there is belief, usually in the supernatural. Yes, the human mind is capable of believing anything in order to preserve itself.
The mind is our own worst enemy. Our symbolic mind and associated lexicon have enabled us to expand the dimensions of our thinking space. Thus, we have invented concepts such as meaning, purpose, and immortality. Without language, none of that could even be contemplated. Did early humans worry about meaning and purpose before the actual words were constructed? Was immortality even an issue back then?
When the mind becomes powerful and expansive, it assigns a higher value to itself. Eventually it comes to believe that it is nearly omnipotent. Thus, it eludes itself into believing that it cannot ... must not perish. It then attempts to will itself immortal. Yet, the brain is part of an animal body, a mortal container. That's the duality of which Becker describes as the source of an immense struggle within ourselves.
That's why we continue to play the same immortality games over and over again. We cannot come to grips with the cruel joke that is mortality. We use the "vital lie" to repress the fear, but repression is temporary relief at best. The fear is still there, festering below the surface, waiting to burst forth and wreak havoc.
And, wreak havoc it does. Take a good look around. The immortality games are totally out of control. People from all walks of life are going berserk. The repression is only keeping the cause from being revealed. However, actions can no longer be concealed and have violently burst forth. The entire species, feeling betrayed, is going to resort to a desperate kind of heroics, which will ultimately terminate the immortality games.
Wednesday, January 09, 2013
Terminal Point
Ralph, former dean of one of the community colleges, paid me a visit at the public library. He wanted to know if I would be interested in facilitating a few general physics classes in the apprenticeship program at Pearl Harbor. Unfortunately, the classes commence next Monday. There is no way that I would be prepared. The compensation would have been generous, though. Molech knows, I sure could use the money.
My homeless buddy has been at the public library every day. I have been assisting him in solving a few of his computer problems. He mentioned that he misplaced his passport, so he will not be visiting Vietnam next month.
I completed reading the book, "Death, and Its Mysteries," by Ignace Lepp. Very interesting, that is, until the last two chapters. That's where we discover that Lepp is a firm believer in the immortality of the "soul." He is also a Christian, specifically Catholic. Well, I should say "was" since he is deceased. I can no longer buy into the idea of a "soul" or even a persistent lifeforce. The universe is shrouded in mystery, but life makes up only an infinitesimal part of it. Thus, life is insignificant. In addition, we already know that both our solar system and the universe are terminal. So, too, life must be terminal.
The reality of terminal nothingness is surely sobering, which is why I have returned to Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." There are no comforting words, no specified redemption, just stark reality. The only remedy is to seek out what we must do to lead a satisfying life to its conclusion. There is no universal template. And, no one can prescribe a remedy for another. We actually have the freedom and limited "free will" to do so on our own. So, we must do what must be done, such that we do not feel that we have wasted our lifetime. Minimize any chances for regret. That's about all we can do in the time alloted.
My homeless buddy has been at the public library every day. I have been assisting him in solving a few of his computer problems. He mentioned that he misplaced his passport, so he will not be visiting Vietnam next month.
I completed reading the book, "Death, and Its Mysteries," by Ignace Lepp. Very interesting, that is, until the last two chapters. That's where we discover that Lepp is a firm believer in the immortality of the "soul." He is also a Christian, specifically Catholic. Well, I should say "was" since he is deceased. I can no longer buy into the idea of a "soul" or even a persistent lifeforce. The universe is shrouded in mystery, but life makes up only an infinitesimal part of it. Thus, life is insignificant. In addition, we already know that both our solar system and the universe are terminal. So, too, life must be terminal.
The reality of terminal nothingness is surely sobering, which is why I have returned to Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." There are no comforting words, no specified redemption, just stark reality. The only remedy is to seek out what we must do to lead a satisfying life to its conclusion. There is no universal template. And, no one can prescribe a remedy for another. We actually have the freedom and limited "free will" to do so on our own. So, we must do what must be done, such that we do not feel that we have wasted our lifetime. Minimize any chances for regret. That's about all we can do in the time alloted.
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Eugenics by Proxy
I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library this morning. He mentioned that he has been asked to leave the Next Step homeless shelter by the end of the month. The reason? His income is too high. Never mind that his income has not changed since he was first admitted there. He has asked for two more months of time. He has also purchased another minivan (i.e., possible "mobile home").
"It's a good thing that you are not staying at the shelter," he told me. I don't know. Perhaps I should rid myself of the useless truck and purchase a dilapidated minivan. Then, I can join my homeless buddy in a homeless caravan to nowhere. Sheesh!
To be perfectly honest, I cannot see how any of the homeless could survive outside of the homeless shelter. Low income and subsidized housing is not affordable. My homeless buddy, for example, would be running a deficit every month. He would deplete his savings quickly and end up both homeless and penniless. Even if the homeless were to secure wage slave jobs, they would quickly fall behind just by paying for rent and food. Then, they would literally end up in the streets.
All "safety net" social programs are a joke. There is no altruistic intent. Just barely enough money is given the recipient. The money is quickly spent, providing a morbid type of "stimulus" to the economy. The same goes for so-called "entitlement" programs. The recipients are just short-term "cash cows." Once the money runs out, too bad. There will still be many more walking cadavers to take their place anyway.
The moneychangers and powers-that-be could care less about the homeless, the destitute, and impoverished senior citizens. The lowest demographic is a disposable population. When their limited usefulness expires, then they are left to die. As far as I can ascertain, that seems to be the real intention.
"It's a good thing that you are not staying at the shelter," he told me. I don't know. Perhaps I should rid myself of the useless truck and purchase a dilapidated minivan. Then, I can join my homeless buddy in a homeless caravan to nowhere. Sheesh!
To be perfectly honest, I cannot see how any of the homeless could survive outside of the homeless shelter. Low income and subsidized housing is not affordable. My homeless buddy, for example, would be running a deficit every month. He would deplete his savings quickly and end up both homeless and penniless. Even if the homeless were to secure wage slave jobs, they would quickly fall behind just by paying for rent and food. Then, they would literally end up in the streets.
All "safety net" social programs are a joke. There is no altruistic intent. Just barely enough money is given the recipient. The money is quickly spent, providing a morbid type of "stimulus" to the economy. The same goes for so-called "entitlement" programs. The recipients are just short-term "cash cows." Once the money runs out, too bad. There will still be many more walking cadavers to take their place anyway.
The moneychangers and powers-that-be could care less about the homeless, the destitute, and impoverished senior citizens. The lowest demographic is a disposable population. When their limited usefulness expires, then they are left to die. As far as I can ascertain, that seems to be the real intention.
Monday, January 07, 2013
Beckerian Fodder
There are apparently a significant number of senior citizens who are homeless in Hawai'i. The demographic is growing, thanks to the non-existent "recovery." There's also a three-year waiting list for subsidized senior citizen housing. Frankly, I don't see much future here in the islands. The situation is likely to worsen.
I have commenced reading Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death" (my personal copy), again. Becker's work is really the new paradigm for living. After all, we are in the twilight of "civilization." Mortality is clashing with the "immortality narratives." The outcome will be ugly.
By the way, I have nothing against "civilization." It has advanced the state of humanity. Unfortunately, we've passed the point of its utility. Vanity has replaced the latter. We're inundated with useless technologies. We are surrounded by toxic plastics. Our food is mostly comprised of chemical fillers. And, we're imprisoned by the "ownership society." Not to mention, we have done little to abate our propensity for killing and maiming.
Obviously, I am not going to be the change agent for society. I am a poor powerless peon. All I can do is figure out what's best in a Beckerian kind of way for myself. Of course, what's good for me is most likely not desirable for anyone else. I have made callous judgments in the past about fools, morons, idiots, fucktards, and sycophants. That's not my place. Everyone is entitled to believe whatever they want and adopt whatever life-style suits their needs. Mortality assures me that I have no business in the affairs of others.
Sometimes I feel as though I am wasting my life away. Instead, I should return to the "mainstream" and continue where I left off a few years ago. In other words, I was falling for the lure of the "hamster wheel." Oh, the residuals of the failed "immortality narratives" run deep! I should just review the old journal and earlier portions of the "blog" in order to purge my foolishness. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
I don't have much time left, what, maybe twenty years. The second half of that time will be the worst. Well, I had better read Becker's book again quickly and make the final decisions about the direction of my life immediately afterward. Naturally, I will report the findings here. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
I have commenced reading Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death" (my personal copy), again. Becker's work is really the new paradigm for living. After all, we are in the twilight of "civilization." Mortality is clashing with the "immortality narratives." The outcome will be ugly.
By the way, I have nothing against "civilization." It has advanced the state of humanity. Unfortunately, we've passed the point of its utility. Vanity has replaced the latter. We're inundated with useless technologies. We are surrounded by toxic plastics. Our food is mostly comprised of chemical fillers. And, we're imprisoned by the "ownership society." Not to mention, we have done little to abate our propensity for killing and maiming.
Obviously, I am not going to be the change agent for society. I am a poor powerless peon. All I can do is figure out what's best in a Beckerian kind of way for myself. Of course, what's good for me is most likely not desirable for anyone else. I have made callous judgments in the past about fools, morons, idiots, fucktards, and sycophants. That's not my place. Everyone is entitled to believe whatever they want and adopt whatever life-style suits their needs. Mortality assures me that I have no business in the affairs of others.
Sometimes I feel as though I am wasting my life away. Instead, I should return to the "mainstream" and continue where I left off a few years ago. In other words, I was falling for the lure of the "hamster wheel." Oh, the residuals of the failed "immortality narratives" run deep! I should just review the old journal and earlier portions of the "blog" in order to purge my foolishness. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
I don't have much time left, what, maybe twenty years. The second half of that time will be the worst. Well, I had better read Becker's book again quickly and make the final decisions about the direction of my life immediately afterward. Naturally, I will report the findings here. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.
Sunday, January 06, 2013
Fodder Fodder
Another late Sunday morning departure once again moved coffee time to the coffee shop right around the corner from the gym. I find that I now prefer the coffee shop's brew over that of the fast food joint. The cost, however, is prohibitive. Oh well.
The "blog," it may seem, has taken a morbid turn. I can only say that I have been intensely inspired by Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." I am continuing my reading of the subject matter, but there really is not much out there. In the public library, there are thousands of books touching on religion. Only a handful cover mortality. I am not including books about grieving or anything tangentially related, by the way. Pretty much proves that there is a lot of denial, eh?
A wasted trip to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. The tablet computer's Web browser was malfunctioning and, thus, I was not able to access the initial login to use the wireless network. The regressions from the last operating system upgrade have been horrendous. Little wonder why the tablet computer has been secretly discontinued. So, let's call it a night now, shall we?
The "blog," it may seem, has taken a morbid turn. I can only say that I have been intensely inspired by Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death." I am continuing my reading of the subject matter, but there really is not much out there. In the public library, there are thousands of books touching on religion. Only a handful cover mortality. I am not including books about grieving or anything tangentially related, by the way. Pretty much proves that there is a lot of denial, eh?
A wasted trip to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. The tablet computer's Web browser was malfunctioning and, thus, I was not able to access the initial login to use the wireless network. The regressions from the last operating system upgrade have been horrendous. Little wonder why the tablet computer has been secretly discontinued. So, let's call it a night now, shall we?
Saturday, January 05, 2013
Underworld
As I walked past the archive building on the way to the public library, I overhead the existential conversation between two homeless guys who were sitting along the walkway. The one homeless guy asked the other, "Do you want to go somewhere before you die?" "No," said the other tersely.
Over the past two nights, I viewed the flick, "Underworld," and its sequel, courtesy our favorite free movie site. Pretty entertaining, actually. Have you noticed that nearly all mainstream flicks contain exorbitant amounts of killing and maiming? While the actual subject matter of death is not socially acceptable conversational fodder, the graphic (yet somewhat sterile) depiction in entertainment media is openly welcomed. We only seem to be able to accept heroics by proxy.
Our constant exposure to graphic depictions of killing and maiming, albeit artificial, tends to numb our senses as well as inculcate thoroughly inaccurate impressions of what death is and what it means. In other words, we come away with little knowledge of the actual "nothingness" of an eradicated consciousness. Perhaps that's why killing and maiming in real life has become epidemic.
On a side note ... have you noticed that the quasi-parabolic design of all urinal bowls insures that the piss (read: urine) splatters all over your legs or trousers? Yeah, that's right. Was the general design some kind of cruel underworld joke? You be the judge.
Over the past two nights, I viewed the flick, "Underworld," and its sequel, courtesy our favorite free movie site. Pretty entertaining, actually. Have you noticed that nearly all mainstream flicks contain exorbitant amounts of killing and maiming? While the actual subject matter of death is not socially acceptable conversational fodder, the graphic (yet somewhat sterile) depiction in entertainment media is openly welcomed. We only seem to be able to accept heroics by proxy.
Our constant exposure to graphic depictions of killing and maiming, albeit artificial, tends to numb our senses as well as inculcate thoroughly inaccurate impressions of what death is and what it means. In other words, we come away with little knowledge of the actual "nothingness" of an eradicated consciousness. Perhaps that's why killing and maiming in real life has become epidemic.
On a side note ... have you noticed that the quasi-parabolic design of all urinal bowls insures that the piss (read: urine) splatters all over your legs or trousers? Yeah, that's right. Was the general design some kind of cruel underworld joke? You be the judge.
Friday, January 04, 2013
Time is Not Money
Will I run out of money before my time is up? That's the big question. Or, should I say, that's the kind of question posed by someone who is steeped in failed "immortality narratives." Worrying about running out of money is ludicrous. The underlying issue is mortality. It's always about mortality. Time is running out. My time. Your time. When time runs out, money will be the least of our worries.
Time is not money. And, money is certainly not time. Time and money only vaguely equate in the world of wage slavery. Money, when hoarded, produces anxiety. Time, when measured, produces anxiety. However, mortality is anxiety. Pure anxiety.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I have continued to purge more paperwork. Naturally, the target is paperwork related to the detestable "condotel" unit. I discarded most of the monthly statements from the detestable property management firm. I am only retaining the end-of-year statements for substantiation of tax reporting data. Paperwork is a necessary requirement of the "ownership society." Ownership, which requires money, is a subset of the failed "immortality narratives." Oh, what a tangled web we weave!
Time is not money. And, money is certainly not time. Time and money only vaguely equate in the world of wage slavery. Money, when hoarded, produces anxiety. Time, when measured, produces anxiety. However, mortality is anxiety. Pure anxiety.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I have continued to purge more paperwork. Naturally, the target is paperwork related to the detestable "condotel" unit. I discarded most of the monthly statements from the detestable property management firm. I am only retaining the end-of-year statements for substantiation of tax reporting data. Paperwork is a necessary requirement of the "ownership society." Ownership, which requires money, is a subset of the failed "immortality narratives." Oh, what a tangled web we weave!
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Life of a Walking Cadaver
According to what I have been reading, the leading causes of death for senior citizens over sixty years of age are heart disease, cancer, and stroke. Poor diets and lack of exercise may exacerbate the problem. However, the real underlying cause is that the body simply deteriorates rapidly in old age, making it susceptible to disease. Of course, common sense would dictate that exercise and non-poisonous food be incorporated to insure a somewhat healthy life-style. Although, I am no longer convinced that taking a fanatical approach to food and exercise is prudent or necessary.
Longer lifespans only increase the chances of contracting a debilitating or fatal disease. In other words, we humans were never meant to live beyond our sixties. And, from my own daily observations of senior citizens, I am not altogether certain whether there is much "quality of life" beyond a certain point.
So much of our lives is spent creating a legacy, increasing net worth, attempting to live longer, and so forth. Yet, we simply forget how to live. We're locked into one or more of the failed "immortality narratives." Worst of all, we live in a world governed by money. We have to "pay to play." We must pay for our experiences and our reality. That's why the homeless and I are sitting around the public library all day. We can't afford to do anything else.
The question that begs to be answered is: what is it really like to live a life? We have heard that phrase, "live a life," repeatedly. We are offered a multitude of answers, but most of them involve some form of shopping, mindless distractions, or elusive immortality prescriptions. All of them only provide temporary relief. Even greater anxiety is the result.
So, my friends, that is my quest. A search for answers. Now, a search for life. I am sickened when I realize just how much time that I have wasted as a walking cadaver. Heck, I will be a decaying cadaver soon enough. Anyway, there must be an answer. I just need to sift through the propaganda, rampant consumerism, and general stupidity to find it.
Longer lifespans only increase the chances of contracting a debilitating or fatal disease. In other words, we humans were never meant to live beyond our sixties. And, from my own daily observations of senior citizens, I am not altogether certain whether there is much "quality of life" beyond a certain point.
So much of our lives is spent creating a legacy, increasing net worth, attempting to live longer, and so forth. Yet, we simply forget how to live. We're locked into one or more of the failed "immortality narratives." Worst of all, we live in a world governed by money. We have to "pay to play." We must pay for our experiences and our reality. That's why the homeless and I are sitting around the public library all day. We can't afford to do anything else.
The question that begs to be answered is: what is it really like to live a life? We have heard that phrase, "live a life," repeatedly. We are offered a multitude of answers, but most of them involve some form of shopping, mindless distractions, or elusive immortality prescriptions. All of them only provide temporary relief. Even greater anxiety is the result.
So, my friends, that is my quest. A search for answers. Now, a search for life. I am sickened when I realize just how much time that I have wasted as a walking cadaver. Heck, I will be a decaying cadaver soon enough. Anyway, there must be an answer. I just need to sift through the propaganda, rampant consumerism, and general stupidity to find it.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
For the Love of Molech!
My end/beginning dialogue of the last two days was terse. I make no apology. However, I should have mentioned that my discovery and subsequent reading of Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," was the capstone for the last year, if not my entire life. Had I read the book and truly understood the content when it was originally published, then I might not have led this poor excuse of a life. I would have still been in my 'teens at the time. I could have made much sounder decisions that would have resulted in a much sounder life.
Alas, I have been wasting a lot of time contemplating the divestiture of Becker's book. It is a small paperback which takes up little space. And, really, why would I want to rid myself of the most important book of all time? The knowledge within its covers is worth more than many, many kilograms of gold bars. Gold is just another vehicle in the ridiculous quest for immortality.
Well, I am back to the same old routine now that the moronic holidays are done and over with. The routine, however, has gotten stale. Very stale. And, why not? Every aspect of modern life, of "civilization," is a shopping experience. Even reality is a shopping experience. I am afraid to say that we are all walking cadavers. Nothing more, nothing less.
Two days into the new year and I have done nothing. Didn't I say that last year? Oh, for the love of Molech, yes! To assist in my procrastination, I have relied upon distractions. I viewed several flicks, courtesy our favorite free movie site, including "Shanghai Kiss," "The Cutter," and "The Contractor." I have also downloaded a few choice hurdy-gurdy video clips for future Vienna Sausage testing. Thank Molech for my tablet computer!
Alas, I have been wasting a lot of time contemplating the divestiture of Becker's book. It is a small paperback which takes up little space. And, really, why would I want to rid myself of the most important book of all time? The knowledge within its covers is worth more than many, many kilograms of gold bars. Gold is just another vehicle in the ridiculous quest for immortality.
Well, I am back to the same old routine now that the moronic holidays are done and over with. The routine, however, has gotten stale. Very stale. And, why not? Every aspect of modern life, of "civilization," is a shopping experience. Even reality is a shopping experience. I am afraid to say that we are all walking cadavers. Nothing more, nothing less.
Two days into the new year and I have done nothing. Didn't I say that last year? Oh, for the love of Molech, yes! To assist in my procrastination, I have relied upon distractions. I viewed several flicks, courtesy our favorite free movie site, including "Shanghai Kiss," "The Cutter," and "The Contractor." I have also downloaded a few choice hurdy-gurdy video clips for future Vienna Sausage testing. Thank Molech for my tablet computer!
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
New Year's Day 2013
Coffee time this morning at the fast food joint adjacent to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Then, I rode the bus to town. Usual workout at the gym. Returned to the den of consumerism and loitered around for a spell. Cheap and greasy early dinner at the fast food joint. Returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Unexpected rain canceled the evening outing. Spent way too much time at the mall anyway. Heck, another exciting New Year's Day!
The start of a new year simply means that another year has been sacrificed to Molech. We already know that nothing was accomplished. So, no summary is necessary. Progress was only made with the divestiture of useless possessions. Everything else remains a sad epic of procrastination. No decision yet on the mummification of the "blog." No final decision about becoming homeless. No decision on the purchase of gold bars.
The start of a new year simply means that another year has been sacrificed to Molech. We already know that nothing was accomplished. So, no summary is necessary. Progress was only made with the divestiture of useless possessions. Everything else remains a sad epic of procrastination. No decision yet on the mummification of the "blog." No final decision about becoming homeless. No decision on the purchase of gold bars.
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