Gnostic Ghosts

Losing one’s faith (in religion) is one thing. Losing faith in ALL (of humanity) is another. I don’t suppose that the gist of life hangs on the thread that is (the concept of) faith – although the superficial point-of-view might indicate otherwise. Recent “change” in my former home country has caused at least a spark to once again be released (in my mind’s eye). Oh, what a slight spark. Shinny to the eye that has seen so little of it (the spark) in recent years. Dull to the eye(s) that see their spark burn bright every day (in the form of consumables and credit). Indeed, it is certainly not enough to question the loss of anything when a single moment and/or day in time (Nov. 4, 2008; or the clarifying morning thereafter) presents so much for posterity.

The brilliant marketeer-ploy of rhetorical change reminds me of the days when I witnessed other leaders rise to their peda-stool (others might call them mountains). Did you know that the raised golden stool (I prefer the high-chair metaphor) has a hole in the middle? The senators were given enough room underneath the stool to huddle and gather and perhaps have a cup of tea. Little holes the world over grant visual access to the gonads and sphincter of those who would sit upon it. We are thinking, of course, of the days of Pope Joan – or? Make no mistake, my liberal friends, you have fallen for the trickery one too many times. What shall you now do in a world that stands alone on the pillars of tricksters? Yes, you will find reason to hope anew. So please be(a)ware!

And so… I was (finally) reading some words of the father of Virginia Woolf. Yes, my literary procrastination pays off in ways more than not. If anyone wants to know why Leslie Stephens was also a mountaineer, then all they have to know is that he also fathered Woolf. Some men will drown on their way to the bottom of the ocean for a child – and others, like Stephen, will get high on Matterhorn. The question is, I suppose, is it actually possible to pass your mind on to your child? I mean, the way they wrote, these two mountaineers…

No. No matter.

At the least I was motivated. So I sat at my Hermes Baby with espresso and had a nice morning. I think. The result…

For those interested you can read Leslie Stephen’s “An Agnostic’s Apology” here which made me think/imagine there were Gnostic Ghosts singing to one another or hanging around or jostling their unlife as though it were as worthless as life truly is…

Whatever.

Rant on.

-tgs-

Thankful To Live In (Your) World

This is "Beckett"

09:26; Weather is overcast and reflects perfectly the attitude of an entire nation-state-folk; sour-puss Teutons passing by my window make me think of a stroll the dog and I recently had and something else completely (un)related.

So, like, the other day I was walking along the Rhine with Samuel Beckett (not the (in)famous author but my gf’s dog). It was a (German) day like any other day. That is, the weather sucked and it was all I could do to avoid Germans by finding some speck of land that isn’t full of them or isn’t either their office space, welfare housing or a parking lot for corporate/government subsidized luxury Audis, BMWs or Mercedes. (Which means that there’s a few hundred yards of land on either side of the Rhine River where you can actually get away from them! Well, almost get away.)

At first glance it seemed to be a leash-free zone. You see, as I’ve improperly mentioned through out this cornucopia of hippy-sweet-smelling (worst)writing nonsense (this blog?), Germany is a land of obnoxious, pretentious, snotty, rude, nasty automatons that cannot think for themselves but instead must rely on a perverted and ugly grandmother that is called Fraulein Ordnung to govern/manage their daily lives. I guess that’s OK since I’m only half-related to the old bitch – which means it’s not as easy as I’d like it to be to avoid her (them).

Wait. Maybe this quote from Marx might help:

Good natured enthusiasts, Germanomaniacs by extraction and free-thinkers by reflexion, on the contrary, seek our history of freedom beyond our history in the ancient Teutonic forests. But what difference is there between the history of our freedom and the history of the boar’s freedom if it can be found only in the forests? Besides, it is common knowledge that the forest echoes back what you shout into it. So peace to the ancient Teutonic forests!

09:29; Still overcast; the flat, gray sky that is just above your head looks down upon you as though it’s mood could rot your soul.

On this day Beckett got in the way of two bicyclist who insisted on yelling at me about how IN GERMANY dogs HAVE to be on a leash. Like any conflict with the Teutons their post-modern pacifism dis-enabled my rightful American aggression and we all ended up just yelling at each other about mannerisms – the full-bred Germans, of course, being better versed in the laws dictated by Fr. Ordnung. When the nasty exchange ended Beckett and I went on our way trying desperately to avoid any more of them. Either that or Beckett stood between the whole silly ordeal and wondered where those blond labs were going with that hot German MILF in tow. BTW, when my gf got him I suggested he be named Guido – The Killer Pimp Pug.

09:38; Gray weather continuing for the rest of my dismal life, or at least while I live in the land of well-dressed but still barbarian Teutons

I guess, in a way, I’m… I can’t use the word “happy” because I’m sure that I wouldn’t know what that is even if I didn’t HAVE to live in Germany. I guess, in a way, there is a sense of acceptance regarding the fact that I (HAVE to) live in Germany. More often than not I get up in the morning and stroll around this welfare state singing…

OH THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME LIVE IN YOUR WORLD
OH THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME LIVE IN YOUR WORLD
OH THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME LIVE IN YOUR WORLD
OH THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME LIVE IN YOUR WORLD, etc.

Often I imagine what it would be like to live elsewhere. For example, NYC. I would love to live in that city. But how can an expatriate or an irresponsible, failed redneck live in New York City? Obviously there is no inheritance in the thread that is/would be my life. There is no natural intelligence or LUCK here either that would enable scholarship via Yale or Harvard, etc., which in turn would provide some assistance to living in the world’s greatest ruined city.  There is nothing in who/what I am that could open up the golden windows/doors that let backward folk like me (Obama?) into the world that is so shiny even when Wall Street riches turn bitter. Yes, I am (almost?) middle aged and the cards have been dealt. Yet I still dream like a school boy. I dream about so many things that are cut off by the bridges I have burned…

09:52; The sky has darkened and so too have the sour-pusses which seem to coincide with the tanning salons that prevent them all from being sooooooooooul-lessly white.

One of my favorite places is New York City. It’s not my favorite because of New Yorkers. It is my favorite because it is the non-plus-ultra when it comes to measuring arrogance, pretentiousness, or a great example of how excrement sometimes doesn’t stink. In fact, the city is like Germany (where I HAVE to live). Seriously. If you want to somehow compare the arrogance of Europe and/or Germany with anything in America – you can’t really do it these corporate/September 11 days by comparing geography or borders or tax systems or profitability or even individuals. You can only compare the things that are the same. Yes, arrogance is the same the world over, right? I guess what I’m so rudely trying to say is: I’d rather live in the arrogant stink of NY – if only I had such a privileged choice.

09:58:03; Haven’t seen a sour-puss passing by my window in approximately three and a half minutes; the gray sky has gone from darkest to less dark.

2-300 yards beyond street and trees is the Rhine.

So the other day (the same day where my gf’s dog was almost attacked by bike riding, sour-puss Teutons) I read an article about Malcolm Gladwell. Yes, indeed, Mr. Gladwell would/could represent something quintessentially New York-ian. Or? I mean, isn’t he awesome! They are now calling him the father of “Gladwellian” thought. Wow.

Don’t ask me why I’m promoting his book; I thought “Blink” was stupid. Why does the world today need another book about selling shit. “Shit” being the world we live in and what humans have become. (Or?)

Here to get a bird’s-eye-view of what the father of Gladwellian thought is all about or to be somewhat more informed about popular culture or to see/read what CEOs read – yes, that’s how this guy got so popular – just check out any of the bookshelves of CEOs or wannabe CEOs and you’ll find a copy of “Blink” (his previous bestseller). Oh yeah, any “good” but low-ranking “marketeer” will also have “Blink” because that’s how good the book is in helping those that make nothing but sell everything get by in this day and age of getting rich.

Seriously. I’m so honored and privileged to live in this world – this world of arrogance, this world of privilege – this world of nothing else. How ’bout you? No? Am I really over doing it with all the bitterness that has built up inside me because of the bridges I have so willingly burned? Here I would ask if I had the opportunity to do so: Are we born evil requiring a savior or are we simply born with bitterness that only awaits its overcoming? OK. I guess I’m gonna go for another walk with Beckett and try to avoid all of … them. Yes. Avoid!

Shouting back to the Teutonic forest: Oh, I cannot express how thankful I am for you allowing me to live in your world.

Yes, the other side of the/my window...

Rant on.

-tgs-

Classically Naked

A bit of self-promotion that won’t cost you a thing…

I finally got around to posting about my writing for The Naked Classic and Verlag André Thiele (German publisher).

I don’t know about you but the only thing that changed after September 11, 2001, was the political landscape on which Western culture has been gorging itself. To say the least, it hasn’t changed for the better. I tend to think that change was on its way in another direction after the fall of Soviet Communism. But I was wrong. Say what you want about skyscrapers being ripped out of the sky or of the conflicts in Iraq, Afganistan, Dafur, etc., etc. Say what you want about Bush and/or the various United Mistakes of Amerika Republican/Neo-Con fanatics (that in my book goes back to the 1970s) that almost – A L M O S T ! – equal that which we are supposedly fighting against.

The only change post 911 has been in the continued distortion and deterioation of the concept(s) of liberty and self-determination that are the foundations of modern democracy. With that in mind, my curiousity about Europe – or the origin of all things rotten in western culture – has peaked. By chance I’ve come across a former enemy to Western Gluttony. I’m gonna try to have a bit of fun writing about him – and maybe, at the same time prove that you can – if you really try and concentrate and focus – get naked in some of this blog technology.

As mentioned here, I’ve been given the opportunity to write about Peter Hacks (an East German playwright). Since we now live in a new era where authoritarianism, totalitarianism and collective rule have easily merged with what is left of “democracy”, writing about a die-hard believer in Marxism might be fun. Either that or it might get me in some trouble.

What ever – I’m gonna keep running on this freedom-joke until the fat lady sings…

If you have the will or the desire, please visit my writing. Get it while you still can for free. Links are available here or you can go directly to The Naked Classic forum.

Good luck and rant lots,

-tgs-

PS if you accidently link to any other André Thiel site or get lost in the archaic forum interface and find yourself looking at some strange language that makes you caugh and choke. Don’t worry. It’s only German. Use your back space key or come back here and start over. (Again, good luck.)