Prometheus is handing out fire

Prometheus is giving the fire here.

Thoughts on Reconstructing a Life

I have been in a 7 year phase through which
it is time to pass.
At worst of nihilism.
Euphemistically of deconstructing every unreal
Construct
Which is normally presumed to be valuable, but actually easily challenged and
Desimated.
It has not served me.
The idea was to honor the integrity of reality, but even the process of removing constructs from systems of value requires presumptions of value.
Every time something is cut away, blood must flow and the scar must form to ache for years.
And then it ends in never having been completely cut away
anyway.
Among the unstated objectives was an implied escape from falsely dichotomous living. This may have been successful and sustainable but in accomplishing this I have ran to an extreme. I deconstructed motives, anecdotal dynamics that keep most people moving towards a progress.
If not a verfiable progress, at least a process.
In the
Application I have become my own worst enemy.
Self-paralysis has been induced by me for me and ultimately against me.
Why? Self-loathing, self-doubt, self-destructive desire?
Yes, but no.
So, the constructs are not real. What of the framework within which these constructs were processed, dismantled and analyzed. Is that real? So, the constructs are not real.
So, so
What?
So action is still relatively valuable, and
absolutely valuable for the avoidance of boredom.
And boredom is suicidal, but suicide is avoidable at any
cost
so life
Becomes a mire of thought and analysis of the components of old structures that are most likely hard wired into neuropath ways by now, so what…
So what was gained?
By all this rambling.
This pondering thought on bullshit that doesn’t pay, that doesn’t redeem, that doesn’t liberate, that doesn’t renew, that doesn’t enlighten, that doesn’t return any of the
energy misplaced into its bruising vortex of never ending downward spiral.
If a construct may be said to be a deception,
(but it can’t because by that same standard of truthfulness and lies the avoidance of constructs will and did become a deception for me – what does this say about my basic assumptions of knowledge?)
Then let us more carefully say that a construct is a vehicle for motivation.
And let me state as true for all intents and purposes that motivation is essential to a
Non-myopic life.
I must again,
Sacrifice myself to myself daily
To create a new construct of deceptive productivity.
Yielding movement, hope, and process.

Said sweet nymph to the youth.

So she has told me and how well you know me Herald!

How truly beautiful yet horrifying that of me it is so oft said I prefer heated passions to reasoned truths. And to this value I have clung. Despite its subjectivity, despising its hypocrisy when displayed in "the other." I risk great error so that I may know that my own heart lives. I will always strive to remain pneumatic and never become static. Yet death steadily approaches.

What a reckless path I have chosen. Yet is it not choice that makes me?
This is for another string.

So, and refreshingly early in this banter, we have begun to define the characteristics of the new axioms. And it is my hope that you will find this term, "the new axioms," one worth dwelling on before accelerating.
Let us pause here for a moment as I struggle to extract these pearls from your last communication.

Prudence, Sincerity(perhaps most of all), a state of no Regret, Cognizance, Discernment and a Liberty most binding: these must and will be the marks of a new journey.

Would you venture with me that these are our new capstones? Or do I remain entirely too open?

Calm Now: Lest We Be Cavalier Once Again

For we have been at this crossroads many times past and never did will travel as infidels. On wide paths with narrow companions, we hurried and bustled behind false prophets and even falser gods.

Heartily, I heralded half-truths, yet I have no regrets. Still, for now, I feel... prudence will lead us more toward Sincerity. And it is Sincerity now I shall seek.

In grains have I fallen into the earth. This is where there are tombs...
I have lost everything and been unburdened.

So, let us bear fruit... Let us be resurrected... Let us have liberty.
But let us do these things in time with cognizance and discernment.

If you loved me you would subjugate fratricidal elitism - - and would that be a return to the best?

Esteemed Herald,

Our journey has been too long. Too taxing on such youth and vitality. Barth wrote, "'N o matter,' I've heard some say, even as they gulped their last: 'The night-sea journey may be abusrd, but here we swim, will-we nill-we, against the flood, onward and upward toward a Shore that may not exist and couldn't be reached if it did.'"

I believe that in our early days at the academy we, or at least I, often formulated this sentiment with a few phrases:
1. "Human nature, if said phenomenon exists, is essentially tragic."
2. "Humans are capable of initializing inquiries that they are not equipped to answer."

Whence cometh these mysteries? Furthermore, if we accept the above maxims from our starry-eyed eras of idealism, then why do we continue to stare into these Luciferian-Promethean abysses? Why rattle our fists and propel our phlegm towards Zeus and Jehovah? For surely the answers do not come back to us. The signal transmits but the black box doesn't even return static. Silence is on the line.

[He throws his head back, removes his filter and turns the volume all the way up!] For we have not enough FAITH!

Why the epistemological quest? Why the torturous integrity if the rewards are not forthcoming?

I must abandon this string: it makes me weak, yet it forces me forward to the new axioms.

That a god was unjustly chained. That another was illegitimately crowned. And that both of them were merely an expression of a battle into which we were conscripted unawares before we had the pugilistic impulse to resist such bondage. A battle that essentially predated our existence. And later became our being: our temporary essence. Our transitory meaning.

But we have inspected the foundations and found the hollow. In spite of the blood spilled in their making, they have been removed by one single breath. The spirit of deification breathed into the void. We have sought out the new axioms They are not as numerous as the former.
Yet, they are more sure and tested by a indescribably superior matrix of control.

The challenge that now lays before us is vast. We've torn down the tomb and the crater beneath is now visible. Some myth must be rebuilt or a vitality must be forged of materials not yet discovered in a fire brought down from Olympus. And the wielder of this flame could remain bound if he is constructed inadequately.

Despite the ambiguity, let us charge forward with courage, honesty and great self-interest.
For that is the only path that leads to a sure footing. All others lead into the annihilating darkness.

Yours intensely,

Ocean

The Funhouse - chained to a rock in the midst of the waves.

it's myself I address. If I am, who am I? Such are the questions that beset my intervals of rest. I can believe them because they are absurd.

victims of their unremitting joie de nager. I have seen the best swimmers of my generation go under. Numberless the number of the dead!

[I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,]

Yet these same reflective intervals that keep me afloat have led me to wonder, doubt, despair-strange emotions for a swimmer!-have led me, even, to suspect . . . that our night sea journey is without meaning.

I continue to swim--but only because blind habit, blind instinct, blind fear of drowning are all still more strong than the horror of our journey.

[Ginsberg]
The rest: John Barth, "Lot in the Funhouse, Night-
Sea Journey"
Munch, "The Scream"

Stipes Primitus

As this is my first weblogging venture, I will take some time to deliberate on the precise tone and subject matter of this site. I only hope is my abilities as a writer have not atrophied.

Let this be cathartic.