I'm finally beginning to get Nietzsche: it's as if he was standing next to me in that blackness, in that space photographed around me; See the photo as if Nietzsche's mind is able to be photographed as space, as darkness, as black space surrounding the mind of those with whom he's having conversations. There's a conversation going on between Nietzsche and me right at that moment I snapped this photo; more like a dialog with me doing the listening and Nietzsche doing the talking. I can see him standing next to me, right behind me to my left talking into my left ear and if you look into that space you'll see it, too.... He's talking to me about self-hatered as the highest form of power, will and strength there is; because "self" is the will itself. He's saying self-hatered is an illusion and as a false conflict with something "bad", like a con game (ambiguity) it originates from the suppressive religious icon of evil competing with "self" for its share of god-worship as another form of a con.
This is the beginning of a study of my experience with physical pain, the development of turning anger into a form of self-hatred and depression, but then eventually letting self-hatred express itself as a positive and powerful force for creativity. By accepting what-was, what-is, what's-so and what's-possible within the limitations and insecurities of physical and psychological uncertainities, I'm able to acknowledge new relationships, new forms of communication and new conversations with new language between me and my environment, both internal and external. This generates, as in causing, a fresh relatedness with life itself that I can photograph from new perspectives. Some of it is filled with emotion, some of it with no emotion at all; some of it is clear, other parts of it is unfolding, or even closing up.
Part Two: Self-Hatred and the Con PART ONE: SELF-HATRED AND AMBIGUITY
(Study of a Hand in Motion) The pain he suffered completely zapped him of any sense of power of choice. He had no self-determination, no self-discipline, self-control, self-actualization, no self-reliance. He was in decline of self. He was a diminished insult of self. He was the disillusionment of a powerful, healthy self. He was an out-of-control loss of self-will, self-love, self-identity, personality, self-direction, self-affirmation and self-proclamation. Anything and everything having to do with him, with self, with his sense of communication with self-as-environment, self-as-atmosphere, self-as-space, self-as-power; anything having to do with him and his conversation with himself, with self-as-dialog, self-as-interactive mind, self-as-motivation, self-as-attraction, self-as-thought; anything that had to do with communication in thought-forms, thought-patterns, thought-as-security, thought-as-power, thought-as-virtual-intellect, thought-as-mental-processes communicating as electronic brain signals which gave him the advantages of a powerfully strong ambitious life were cut off and he was left like a dismembered carcass alongside a dirt road unceremoniously incoherent and isolated. (Jazz Improvization)
(Corner of Columbus and Kearny) Physical pain and weakness, psychological infertility and fear magnified are characteristics of Christianity, which restrained his humanity and denied "personhood". Without self-ambition, he had no will to crush the brutality of sanctimonious evil: self-sacrifice! Self-reliance, self-support, self-magnification of human love, fulfillment of self-love and the affirmative expression of self-hatred were helpless fatalities in a con game to which he became an unwilling victim, shattering his integrity. Self-degradation became "astigmatism in the eyes of an invalid" as his infection mimicked the Christian's herd instinct with distress and failure in a saintly reformatory of self-propitiation. Occupying the centerpiece of mindless blind faith, he had no weapons against priestly sadists using hope to perform dramatic ceremonies against him as life was in dissent against itself! (Untitled)
(Second Floor) Mind couldn't confront brutality and life-destroying misery and atrophy: "the suffering" was unbearable beyond unbearable belief. Body was defeated by pain. The most horrific pain conceivable was a form of malicious mental pain demanding stupidity and duty to a trust in intelligent design, destiny, reason; none of which had any value. He was barely able to survive "the suffering's" repeated evil penalties for injustice and dishonesty, failing to escape from which he almost callously surrendered to a con artist. (Reflections in a Hallway)
(Old Phone Booth) The Christian con artist is the servant of the con game for our sad and pitiful life: it's a pathetic wretched beneficence. That's the key word: "Beneficence": beneficial, the benefited one, benign beneficence, also known as the supreme being, not just "being", not just one who be's or is, but the one who only is. Beneficence is considered supreme and the benefits charisma too brilliant for weak-minded, poor-hearted, pitifully shallow, selflessly useless masochists to pay attention to their unending suffering, disease, hate, pain, distress, anguish, agony, death, blindness, war, famine, false imprisonment, bigotry, prejudice, murder, despair, mental hopelessness, addiction and enough curses for every man, woman and child. Christianity kills human life and suppresses excellence. It makes a mockery of beauty and calls it beastly. It takes a beast and calls it "but beautiful". (Stairway)
(Window) The Christian con artist loved him so profoundly it dropped an eye lash from its bloodshot third eye and let it fall to the floor with a thump. By enduring "the suffering", it promised him he would have a star on the sidewalk next to the virtuous and worthy. The con gave him a disease and packed him up with high doses of intolerance, but the "frail desolation" (i.e., pain killers) was the holy lie that made him suffer the most by seducing him to lock himself in the bathroom of a neighborhood bar and drink so much liquor he couldn't eat anymore; he drank so much his skin turned yellow; he drank until diarrhea flushed the rest of his liver down the toilet mixed with blood without platelets. The Christian con was made with throbbing delusion and tormenting unhappiness. Enough sadness and distress went around the room cursing him with counterfeit kindness, destroying him with fake self-love, deliberately causing melancholia dementia to set in. This was the origin of the "I-want-to-help-them", the "I-want-to-save-them", the "I-want- to-care-for-them", the "I-want-to-baptize-them"! This is the story of the sickly-giver who built a stairway with death and offered its twisted arthritic hand of salvation, buried six feet under ground where it won't smell so badly. This is the ultimate con game: if he doesn't accept the helping hand of christ, it kills him with it; and if he accepts it, both ways, it's a con and it kills him. It's a pious, hypocritical con that kills him if he doesn't and kills him if he does.
This is the beginning of a study of my experience with physical pain, the development of turning anger into a form of self-hatred and depression, but then eventually letting self-hatred express itself as a positive and powerful force for creativity. By accepting what-was, what-is, what's-so and what's-possible within the limitations and insecurities of physical and psychological uncertainities, I'm able to acknowledge new relationships, new forms of communication and new conversations with new language between me and my environment, both internal and external. This generates, as in causing, a fresh relatedness with life itself that I can photograph from new perspectives. Some of it is filled with emotion, some of it with no emotion at all; some of it is clear, other parts of it is unfolding, or even closing up.
Part Two: Self-Hatred and the Con PART ONE: SELF-HATRED AND AMBIGUITY
(Study of a Hand in Motion) The pain he suffered completely zapped him of any sense of power of choice. He had no self-determination, no self-discipline, self-control, self-actualization, no self-reliance. He was in decline of self. He was a diminished insult of self. He was the disillusionment of a powerful, healthy self. He was an out-of-control loss of self-will, self-love, self-identity, personality, self-direction, self-affirmation and self-proclamation. Anything and everything having to do with him, with self, with his sense of communication with self-as-environment, self-as-atmosphere, self-as-space, self-as-power; anything having to do with him and his conversation with himself, with self-as-dialog, self-as-interactive mind, self-as-motivation, self-as-attraction, self-as-thought; anything that had to do with communication in thought-forms, thought-patterns, thought-as-security, thought-as-power, thought-as-virtual-intellect, thought-as-mental-processes communicating as electronic brain signals which gave him the advantages of a powerfully strong ambitious life were cut off and he was left like a dismembered carcass alongside a dirt road unceremoniously incoherent and isolated. (Jazz Improvization)
(Corner of Columbus and Kearny) Physical pain and weakness, psychological infertility and fear magnified are characteristics of Christianity, which restrained his humanity and denied "personhood". Without self-ambition, he had no will to crush the brutality of sanctimonious evil: self-sacrifice! Self-reliance, self-support, self-magnification of human love, fulfillment of self-love and the affirmative expression of self-hatred were helpless fatalities in a con game to which he became an unwilling victim, shattering his integrity. Self-degradation became "astigmatism in the eyes of an invalid" as his infection mimicked the Christian's herd instinct with distress and failure in a saintly reformatory of self-propitiation. Occupying the centerpiece of mindless blind faith, he had no weapons against priestly sadists using hope to perform dramatic ceremonies against him as life was in dissent against itself! (Untitled)
(Second Floor) Mind couldn't confront brutality and life-destroying misery and atrophy: "the suffering" was unbearable beyond unbearable belief. Body was defeated by pain. The most horrific pain conceivable was a form of malicious mental pain demanding stupidity and duty to a trust in intelligent design, destiny, reason; none of which had any value. He was barely able to survive "the suffering's" repeated evil penalties for injustice and dishonesty, failing to escape from which he almost callously surrendered to a con artist. (Reflections in a Hallway)
(Old Phone Booth) The Christian con artist is the servant of the con game for our sad and pitiful life: it's a pathetic wretched beneficence. That's the key word: "Beneficence": beneficial, the benefited one, benign beneficence, also known as the supreme being, not just "being", not just one who be's or is, but the one who only is. Beneficence is considered supreme and the benefits charisma too brilliant for weak-minded, poor-hearted, pitifully shallow, selflessly useless masochists to pay attention to their unending suffering, disease, hate, pain, distress, anguish, agony, death, blindness, war, famine, false imprisonment, bigotry, prejudice, murder, despair, mental hopelessness, addiction and enough curses for every man, woman and child. Christianity kills human life and suppresses excellence. It makes a mockery of beauty and calls it beastly. It takes a beast and calls it "but beautiful". (Stairway)
(Window) The Christian con artist loved him so profoundly it dropped an eye lash from its bloodshot third eye and let it fall to the floor with a thump. By enduring "the suffering", it promised him he would have a star on the sidewalk next to the virtuous and worthy. The con gave him a disease and packed him up with high doses of intolerance, but the "frail desolation" (i.e., pain killers) was the holy lie that made him suffer the most by seducing him to lock himself in the bathroom of a neighborhood bar and drink so much liquor he couldn't eat anymore; he drank so much his skin turned yellow; he drank until diarrhea flushed the rest of his liver down the toilet mixed with blood without platelets. The Christian con was made with throbbing delusion and tormenting unhappiness. Enough sadness and distress went around the room cursing him with counterfeit kindness, destroying him with fake self-love, deliberately causing melancholia dementia to set in. This was the origin of the "I-want-to-help-them", the "I-want-to-save-them", the "I-want- to-care-for-them", the "I-want-to-baptize-them"! This is the story of the sickly-giver who built a stairway with death and offered its twisted arthritic hand of salvation, buried six feet under ground where it won't smell so badly. This is the ultimate con game: if he doesn't accept the helping hand of christ, it kills him with it; and if he accepts it, both ways, it's a con and it kills him. It's a pious, hypocritical con that kills him if he doesn't and kills him if he does.
