/lit/ - Literature

>>21441324
Chekhov's Ward No. 6

Even after 7 years on 4chan I still feel like an outsider, a newfag, a naive retard who doesn't understand memes and general culture. This is the only "community" where I feel like I have some sort of familiarity like some joke which everyone is on except me. But I don't know anymore. To think that I have even failed to "understand" a place of familiarity such as 4chan is extremely soul crushing. The only thing I have "gained" is my superficially critical contrarian autistic personality and spite for the world at large while still being extremely naive about how to function in the world. It's an absurd paradox of feeling significant and insignificant, extremely lucid and extremely naive, all at the same time. This place feels so distant and odd now. It's kind of funny.

Gradually I will try to leave this place from tonight. But I know I will even fail at it. I sometimes chuckle at the thought that if I try to kill myself, will I fail at that too?

>>18941735
>Like Segal’s vastness, Schopenhauer’s Will has the same purpose in mind for human beings—to use our “circuitries” to acquire some kind of knowledge of its mindless self. For Schopenhauer, though, the self-seeking Will does not feel good to human beings except during moments when we temporarily satisfy its universal ravening as it emerges within us. Why the vastness or the Will should want to use us in this way is a mystery. Both of these non-dualistic meta-realities do serve the purpose of making sense of human life in their own way. But whether they make us feel good does not seem to matter to either of them. We are just vehicles; they are the drivers. And wherever we are going, as Segal and Schopenhauer have assured us, along with every other individual whose consciousness has been opened to the vastness by whatever name or nature, we must keep in mind that we are not what we think we are. Taking things a step further, Professor Nobody would teach us that neither is our world what we think it is, lecturing us with a flamboyant dispassion on the omnipresence of the infernal in “The Eyes That Never Blink.”

>Mist on a lake, fog in thick woods, a golden light shining on wet stones—such sights make it all very easy. Something lives in the lake, rustles through the woods, inhabits the stones or the earth beneath them. Whatever it may be, this something lies just out of sight, but not out of vision for the eyes that never blink. In the right surroundings our entire being is made of eyes that dilate to witness the haunting of the universe. But really, do the right surroundings have to be so obvious in their spectral atmosphere?
Take a cramped waiting room, for instance. Everything there seems so well-anchored in normalcy. Others around you talk ever so quietly; the old clock on the wall is sweeping aside the seconds with its thin red finger; the window blinds deliver slices of light from the outside world and shuffle them with shadows. Yet at any time and in any place, our bunkers of banality may begin to rumble. You see, even in a stronghold of our fellow beings we may be subject to abnormal fears that would land us in an asylum if we voiced them to another. Did we just feel some presence that does not belong among us? Do our eyes see something in a corner of that room in which we wait for we know not what?
Just a little doubt slipped into the mind, a little trickle of suspicion in the bloodstream, and all those eyes of ours, one by one, open up to the world and see its horror. Then: no belief or body of laws will guard you; no friend, no counselor, no appointed personage will save you; no locked door will protect you; no private office will hide you. Not even the solar brilliance of a summer day will harbor you from horror. For horror eats the light and digests it into darkness.

Please recommend me books on how to make money with dignity. How can you ex-NEETs cope with wageslaving for the rest of your lives? For normal people there is nothing but survival and slavery. Is this it? Why does the day of rope came so quickly?

For millions of years men have been bred by group selection to be schizo war machines that have no self consciousness, because additional reflexivity was something that was selected against by natural selection during evolution. Hunting, killing - this is best done in an absolute unreflexive unity with your body, without any second thought and redoubling There was no metaphorical thinking back then, every thing was for-itself, undivided by extra layer of symbolic representation. We were intoxicated by religious impulse, by primal drive to violence, bonding trough killing and hunting. All this fell apart when environment changed, bigger groups - more technology - the need for reflexive thinking, the need for writing etc. Shizo retards started to be selected against, without wiping them all out because civic military had to use them and sublimate the primordial violent drive to a more disciplined militaristic drive (for example the difference between thumos and andreia in ancient greece).

The unease that is felt today is the primal drive for violence, for enemy detection (conspiracy theories), drive to subordinate all of your bodily functions to one task, its a longing for an ecstatic unity with your own body, which implies highest level of alienation at the same time. What we can do about this; we, spiritual soldiers, far away from our natural habitat? Who will quench our thirst for conflict, for blood, struggle and murder? War and religion are on the decline in our contemporary society, but the drives that for such a long time supported them are not. We have to sublimate our deepest drive trough various other means, our war today can only express itself in the form of an ambush.