My Night in the Bad Class
“alles was ist ist zuwenig (…)”
(Everything which is is too little.)
Die Welt ist alles, was der Unfall ist.
A Wittgenstein Victim
was besteht, ist veraltet.”
(Attention. What exists, is obsolete.)
How to measure that fraction of measurable to immeasurable?
Why is there action and not just nothing?
“Wenn ich der Regel folge, wähle ich nicht.
Ich folge der Regel blind.”
(When I follow the rule, I do not choose. I follow the rule blindly.)
Open minds are like shared anuses.
Grammar is Theatre
“What is a sadist?”
“Someone who likes to dish out pain.”
(Older youth instructing younger youths on evening rush hour train from Oxford to Didcot Parkway)
If there is no perfect logic, does it mean there is no logic?
If a thing is not perfect, does it mean it is not that thing?
Everything is allowed as long as it’s insincere.
Confession of Insincerity
The poet is not bad (maudit), language has a certain badness just waiting for the one, who is expected to arrive.
To be true to an event, which ended in defeat, is to be true to a lost cause in its aspect of lostness – it is to be true to lostness, not to Revolution.
For years we resented the false emotions of others, until we realized they were our own and our best possessions.
The gentleman is the real valet. Only another gentleman can use him with no remainder.
My sensations may be like everybody else’s, but my ataraxy is my own.
Errors are immortal.
“Logik der Empfindung und Fantasie. / Logik ist schlechtweg Grammatik.”
(Logic of Feeling and Fantasy. / Logic is simply grammar.)
“Dans le monde réellement renversé, le vrai est un moment du faux.”
(In a really upside down world, truth is a moment of falsehood.)
The stronger the urge, the closer it comes to passion, the more treacherous it was, the higher its content of falsehood, so that we have processed ourselves into that desirable phantom in the centre of all blind instinct, a will full of lies.
Our Will is the Grand Lie of Being.
Not even madness can cure cowardice.
Your Empire needs you.
“Ich kann ihn suchen, wenn er nicht da ist, aber ihn nicht hängen, wenn er nicht da ist.”
(I can look for him when he is not there, but I cannot hang him, when he is not there.)
What does it mean to say that someone is lost, although not physically lost? Does he know he is lost? Or to say of someone that he is broken? What is it, which is lost or broken? Does he know when he is broken?
There is something of the despot in both the artist and the philosopher. The work of art or work of philosophy expects absolute obedience. Each implies the will to absolute power – to completely possess and compel the ‘hypocritical’ Other.