stoolofboss

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[stoolofboss]

[stoolofboss]

The fundamental problem of political philosophy is still precisely the one that Spinoza saw so clearly (and that Wilhelm Reich rediscovered): Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?

Deleuze

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The philosophers go on to emphasize the nastiest aspects of everyday life so that they can clearly demonstrate the negation of this life, the nothingness which liberates, in the world of philosophy. 'Hell is other people', maintains one of Sartre's characters, with metaphysical 'profundity'. But is not the hellish part of us rather this 'other-than-being', this hinterland (or rather, nothingness) which the mystics, the theologians, the poets, the philosophers, have maintained in their consciousness, and in which they obstinately continue to live their visionary lives without realizing the level to which it has been demoted? But we should not take such 'profound' theories too seriously. Anguish and mystery (the feeling of mystery) cannot be reduced to a theoretical level, it is impossible to theorize them. Genuine anguish, the anguish of a lost child, of a primitive man lost in the jungle, of a being who feels utterly weak and helpless in the face of nature, such anguish escapes us. The feeling of human power (not the will to individual power, but the consciousness of the collective, social power of man over nature) penetrates our every thought and every sensation, albeit indirectly.

Henri Lefebvre

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sortlegeme - and their law is dust

[stoolofboss]

there’s a kitty

[stoolofboss]

Life’s basic malady, that of being conscious, begins with my body and discomforts me. To have no islands where those of us who are uncomfortable could go, no ancient garden paths reserved for those who’ve retreated into dreaming! To have to live and to act, however little; to have to physically touch because there are other, equally real people in life! To have to be here writing this, because my soul needs it, and not to be able to just dream it all, to express it without words, without so much as consciousness, through a construction of myself in music and diffuseness, such that tears would well in my eyes as soon as I felt like expressing myself, and I would flow like an enchanted river across gentle slopes of my own self, ever further into unconsciousness and the Far-away, to no end but God.

pessoa (via stoolofboss)

[stoolofboss]

[stoolofboss]

In the beginning, the void was lighted by an immense burst of laughter.

daumal

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I'm making music, because i can't sing like birds and other animals. The human world which is abusing beautiful animals should be ruined.

Masami Akita