/lit/ - Literature

>>12445409
and so you're not wrong about any of this; i wholly recognize that my own problems are really my own. i am kind of addicted to my own failed coping strategies. deep down, i believe that if i really wanted to change, i would. my problems aren't the problems of the state, but really a kind of hubris: of course i would love to be master-artificer of illusions. who wouldn't?

failure is a kind of addiction, in its own right. it is what the Grand Inquisitor also knew. and today, if you are prepared to go a few steps further, and denounce White Supremacy, the powers of state psychotherapy seem pretty happy to turn over the rest of it to you. embrace the gospel of victimization, and celebrate all of the brokenness of the human condition with a Gillette razor. it all makes perfect sense: after a long and tortuous journey, Capital itself finally returns home, wayward son, to take up the mantle of priest. so long as you don't ask any questions about religions that already exist, everything will be fine.

i want to be loved, i don't really want to love anyone else, or even myself. i want to hate myself and be loved for it; in a parallel universe, i would want to hate others and be loved for that too. no matter what, in the end, people like me - Last Men - always are fundamentally dependent upon approval, and there is no approval quite like that of the State itself, the totality, the feeling of having joined in with the Great Crowd. even if this is in the end what everyone must do, and not necessarily in a cynical way. beyond a certain horizon, it is psychopathy which keeps one grinding the wheels of critique after the answers have been given: be kind, be humble, work hard, and all the rest. things we have known since the beginning of time, but which we would prefer someone else look after for us, so that we can focus, you know, on what *really* matters, which is money. after all, then it's a win-win for everyone!

that's the thing about Christianity: your priest can forgive you, but at the same time, he doesn't fucking have to *like* you for it. you can be forgiven and still be a shithead. you're never completely absolved, and because in some deep down sense you know you don't want to be, or you know that even a million prayers are not enough. you can hate yourself all the way down to the bottom. when Gillette takes over the task of trying to absolve you when what you really want is fucking hellfire, it fails.

that is i think why Crawford wrote about 'jihad as a cure for depression.' Jihad doesn't only cure your depression, it cures mine too. we can be bound up together in hatred of the scapegoat. i could swear there was some French guy who wrote a couple of books on this, but the name escapes me.