/lit/ - Literature

Only an all-powerful God could love an ugly person. Some people are so ugly on the inside and outside that loving them would be tantamount to violating the principle of non-contradiction, i.e. God could only love them in a universe where all bachelors are married and triangles have four sides.

Just as the Cartesian God could make it so a mountain can exist without a valley, so could only a voluntarist God love a worthless subhuman as if he were the sole inhabitant of the universe - without being tempted to check His phone.

Since a voluntarist God would have destroyed this fallen universe now, this God cannot exist. Ergo, redemptive love cannot exist. QED.

A (1) voluntarist Gnostic God can't exist, or else it would have negated the kenoma by now. The whole point of positing an all-powerful Alien is that they're not going to be putzing around with rulesets and transcendental conditions to begin with. Gnosticism doesn't admit the "God works in mysterious ways" argument.

So, we're committed to either a (2) martial Zoroastrian dualism where the good God is powerful but not all-powerful (cannot violate necessary truths; logical AND synthetic) and so cannot destroy the Devil who is an uncreated being, or a (3) passive Manichaean dualism where the light is powerless to resist being consumed by darkness.

In the other direction:

We cannot disprove the existence (1) of a voluntarist demon if the will of this demon is to deceive, since this demon would render even apodictic knowledge (like the cogito) contingent.

Since we cannot disprove a voluntarist demon, we have to commit to a (2) Zoroastrian dualism where the Devil is powerful, but not all-powerful, like the good God. The counterpart to the Manichaean option is (3) privation theory, where evil is a passive absence with no will of its own, which doesn't follow from our experience of the world.

How fucking fucked are we?

For various reasons, I need to be an expert in quantum mechanics by halfway through the year. I only know rudimentary physics and some concepts of calculus. What do I need to read?

>>22635288
In the moment of seeing the object of thought the mind imagines itself to be an objective, timeless observer when it is the act of seeing in time which forms the basis of the dialectic of its own movement; the Ideas are not 'detached' but merely an illusory separation of thinker and thought; in one moment the embodied Idea in time relating to its own development in the dialectic of thought becomes the next rung in the great ladder, not a ladder pulled up after one reaches the heights but a ladder constructed each rung at a time as one climbs it; the observer that sees himself observe becomes his own ladder; the dialectic advances through the Idea, the Knowing of the Idea, the knowing of the Knowing of the Idea, the knower seeing himself knowing of the Knowing of the idea, the Idea looks into the Knower and the Knower looks back; in order to construct a true Philosophy we must Know every moment which led up to the construction, every moment of the construction, every particle of every thought that we use to construct, and every moment of knowledge of ourselves as constructors, as knowers of thoughts used in construction; and when the roof of the Tower of Babel has been reached we will turn back and look below and see our own faces looking up at us.

There's no difference between subject and object. There's no "Anon" separate from "that which Anon does," as the experience Anon has of doing things is inseparable from Anon himself, and indeed the world at large and Anon aren't separable either.

>Open book
>it all kind of looks like a jumble of assorted words
>put it back

NICOLE IS DEAD: the chapters' names must be cut off from their initials, the precise reversal of cutting off the necromorphs' limbs, Žižek is wrong about everything: Isaac does not realize that /there is no Nicole/ by penetrating the Ishimura, rather, the chapters' names are always already inscribed in the ship's tram system, the fact that, technically, the tram rides are /inert loading screens/ whereby the Ishimura shifts around Isaac, fabricating the illusion of motion, is analogous, or /necrologous/, to the necromorphous process of cadaveric animation, does Kendra not ultimately /pierce Isaac's head/ with a tele-vision, not unlike the one necro-iteration repeatedly seen animating cadavers by piercing their /heads/, the very locus of the chapters' initials spelling out Isaac's fate? THE PRIMAL SCENE IS SECONDARY, the /Marker/ is the nullifying obscene: something reverse engineered from a /Divine original/ and buried in /space/, Freud is wrong about everything: the Father is a /hermaphrodite/, the phallic helix circumscribes, or /necroscribes/, the Ishimura itself as a /false yoni/, the negative space of the Marker resembles a twisted plane whose ends /could/ be joined into a Möbius strip, this is precisely the structure the of game, Isaac cuts off Oedipus' /limb/: Lacan is wrong about everything: the /whole/ Oedipal structure is /reverse engineered/ from an ideological NICOLE IS NOT DEAD, the /tragedy/ is as an undue animation of the maternal cadaver, the /necromorphous limb/ of the Father. CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS: the vacuum of space is not unlike the NOT /sucking Isaac into a total inertia/ inside the Ishimura, into the obscenity of Nicole's /necromorphous phantom/, nullifying any primal scene, the idea being rightly mocked by the game itself in the tragicomical Hammond-Kendra relation, amputated limbs "engendering" the NOT SPEAKING SUBJECT of Isaac, a /necromorph/! THE HIVE MIND IS NOT NICOLE, rather /the final obscene apparition of Nicole is the true face of the Hive Mind/, the pitiful fight being as a /body/ cut from the /limb/ of the true /boss/ who ends the game. Deleuze is wrong about everything: the chapters' initials necromorphing the game's body are the LIMBS CUTTING BOTH BODIES AND ORGANS APART: the Marker is the /sovereign sign itself/, the opening between the original and the copy is identical to the space necroscribed in and of either of their helices, A LITERAL DEAD SPACE, the copy being buried in total opacity is as a /necromorphing/ of the original decomposing itself into total transparency. Baudrillard is right about everything: the actual necromorphs are not instantiations necessary to realize the death of Nicole, but Disneyland-like bodies, /cadavers/, meant to cloak the necromorphous body of the game itself, MAKING US WHOLE.

I am seduced by my life force, which is to say I am seduced by health: health is the condition of sin, or more to the point, sin is the radical distention of 'ownmost' possibility which coincides with health: there are those who don't forfeit their essential Selves to they-self, but to the my-self: the horror is not being Gyugyu (the sinless yonic Wound), but a failed Tomóceusz (a failed inseminator of space): there are those who defile themselves because they can't defile the field of their potential selves we call the World, god have mercy on their souls: for them, death does not permanently interrupt their psychophilia, it will merely hold it in abeyance: an “enlightenment without radiance”, the toilet bowl-clutcher promising he will never drink again, until he does, because he will, the eternal creature of the hour: your noumenon, like THE noumenon, is tolerant of any material, even dying: the “unfallen” soul/the bird that watches is indomitable in its obscenity: at least when it is fused with the bird that gorges, and the Self becomes the antinomian sword: “in all eternity you will never conquer yourself, John DiFool”: it's why the vulgar Plotinian argument against the Gnostics (and the Buddhists by extension) is so weak: the undeveloped suicide bursts against his death mind like a melon and falls again as the bodily powers are re-activated in reverse order, i.e. as the planetary necklace of dependent origination is re-constituted: who knows them? Not the buddhas of panoramic space-consciousness: but be blessed by your closure, your non-relational kernel: the impossibility of real human connection is how you know you are saved, but it's also how you know you are in hell: Satan is a frotteur, and a cosmic bananafish shedding quantum tunnelers like scales: to a point, we reject Laruelle's matrioshka gnosticism, because unlike the Buddhists he does not understand what the latter meant by all world-systems being samsaric: all world-systems are just shuffled algorithmic libraries: dewey decimal ontologies: the One does not give us Evil nor does it legitimate it, against the m*nists we must repeat: the One is the negative condition of Evil: it is first necessary that Evil be given in order for the One to then give Evil according to the former's mode of being 'given-without-givenness': in the end, it really does come down to wine aunt cliches and the kinds of platitudes you'd hang up on your dorm room wall: love the world like you were never born in it.

Why do the mods keep deleting Bible threads? What rule are they breaking?

>>20275365

Vampire girl sex. Intimate sexual contact with a vampiric being who derives nutrients from my fresh blood preferably drawn through direct vein-mouth contact making use of her noticeably large canines. The weight of a cute but kind of scary vampire girl sitting on my lap with her mouth clamped on my neck while I try not to move out of fear of being torn limb from limb by her bizarre vampiric magic if I accidentally displease her. Noticing too late that the vampire girl in question is not even five feet tall and probably looks like a child to passers-by even though she told me she's 400 years old while in a haze of confused thoughts exacerbated by my increasing blood loss. The sensation of hot drops of blood dripping down her chin and falling onto my collarbone which for some reason is the trigger for sexual arousal even though I should be trying to avoid an increase in blood pressure due to my imminent blackout. Smug vampire girl teasing me for getting a boner while my life is in danger wipes her chin on her hand while reaching for the zipper of my pants with the other ha ha. I weakly protest even though deep down I have already given in to the desire to become a dried-out corpse found by the police 3 days later in a bizarre bloodless state with a look of contentment on my face which causes a local media sensation that never produces any solid leads and years later my only claim to fame will be being featured on those top 10 unsolved mysterious deaths lists on plebbit. Btw I am an obvious virgin and the vampire can tell because she giggles when I make a small nervous noise in the back of my throat every time she bounces up and down and laughs even harder as she locks her actually pretty slender legs now that I'm randomly focusing on them around my torso and forces me to blow my load inside her which also causes me to produce funny half-choking half-moaning noises and then another big gasp as she bites down on me again causing me to have tunnel vision and ultimately black out at the height of my hrrngnghghNNGNNMGGHHMMMGHGMM but strangely I wake up the next morning to find that she has moved in to my apartment and demanded that I take care of her in exchange for more blood because she likes the taste.

Imagine modernity as a kind of transcendental mitosis: one body becoming two: the gladiators of positivism and romanticism raging in the bridge: subjects bound to the World in the mode of its unbinding, or exorcised completely: the quintessential gnostic procedure: for Holderlin, art is this mitosis in reverse: the return or at least flirtation with the divine sleep of matter: poesy is the enemy of pneuma, the totalizing organ: but the scholarship doesn't emphasize this enough: Gnosticism is a rejection of both Judaism /and/ paganism, of both ultra-transcendence and preflexive immanence: the gnostic is properly irreflexive, in defiance of the Sophianic auto-affection = auto-eroticism, which masturbates the sun into being: is not Henry's self-enjoying Life which “cannot cease to adhere to itself” nothing but Schelling's God which is “never free to be unfree”? Is not the eye with which god sees God not the eye with which God sees the dead?

Imagine modernity as a kind of transcendental
- or topological - mitosis: one body becoming two: the gladiators of positivism and romanticism raging in the bridge: subjects bound to the World in the mode of its unbinding, or exorcised completely: the quintessential gnostic procedure: for Holderlin, art is this mitosis in reverse: the return or at least flirtation with the divine sleep of matter: poesy is the enemy of pneuma, the totalizing organ: but the scholarship doesn't emphasize this enough: Gnosticism is a rejection of both Judaism /and/ paganism, of both ultra-transcendence and preflexive immanence: the gnostic is properly irreflexive, in defiance of the Sophianic auto-affection = auto-eroticism, which masturbated the stars into being: is not Henry's self-enjoying Life which “cannot cease to adhere to itself” nothing but Schelling's God which is “never free to be unfree”? Is not the eye with which god sees God not the eye with which God sees the dead?

>>19745578
>this is freedom

THE LIVING ARE THE PORNOGRAPHY OF THE DEAD: the World is not a “botched imitation” or spotted mirror but – taking our cue from Henry here, pornography being an exteriorization and so a profanation of the sexual act in its pure affectivity, the reduction of Life to the copulation of surfaces – a pornography of (salvific) absence: it's the Manichaeans who got a leg up on the Sethians, because they understand the dark powers can only masturbate to – never rape, “access” - the eidos of the Pleromatic feminine: that demonism is a frotteurism: and that the only way to be released from the world-system is to be ejaculated from it, like the “flight of an Angel”, or the sayings of Christ: it is not we who must ingest Evil, and so sickened, expel it (the Sadean-antinomian “heresy”): it is we who we have been ingested by Evil and must sicken the World: we must become poison in the Body-of-bodies, an ipecac star: like Baudrillard knows, we don't return the gift to the store but to the giver, tenfold: we here oppose Zizek's subjectivity as ek-static phallus to Henry's Life as the revelation of self-revelation: a void under perpetual threat of implosion vs. the stellar core of solitude: demons are "four-dimensional", in that their phalli engorge into the w-axis of intentionality, Aeons are holy “anime”: Laruelle: Christ inverts Schroedinger's Paradox: not a being both alive and dead, not one thing in two states, but one state (vector) in two things: (non-)death both Life and living:

THE LIVING ARE THE PORNOGRAPHY OF THE DEAD: the World is not a “botched imitation” or spotted mirror but – taking our cue from Henry here, pornography being an exteriorization and so a profanation of the sexual act in its pure affectivity, the reduction of Life to the copulation of surfaces – a pornography of (salvific) absence: it's the Manichaeans who have a leg up on the Sethians, because they understand the dark powers can only masturbate to – never rape, “access” - the eidos of the Pleromatic feminine: that demonism is a frotteurism: and that the only way to be released from the world-system is to be ejaculated from it, like the “flight of an Angel”: it is not we who must ingest Evil, and so sickened, expel it (the Sadean-antinomian “heresy”): it is we who we have been ingested by Evil and must sicken the World: we must become poison in the Body-of-bodies, an ipecac star: like Baudrillard knows, we don't return the gift to the store but to the giver, tenfold: we here oppose Zizek's subjectivity as ek-static phallus to Henry's Life as the revelation of self-revelation: a void under perpetual threat of implosion vs. the stellar core of solitude: demons are "four-dimensional", in that their phalli engorge into the w-axis of intentionality, Aeons are holy “anime”: Laruelle: Christ inverts Schroedinger's Paradox: not a being both alive and dead, not one thing in two states, but one state (vector) in two things: (non-)death both Life and living:

KANT WAS ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION: forget experience: what is the transcendental condition of possibility for suffering? How do we reverse-engineer the archontic manual? We begin with a World: a phenomenality - “horizon of light” - responsible for the distinction between seeing and what is seen: manifestation is not the purchase but precisely the deprivation of a thing's truth: the flattening of goldfish to goldfish crackers, chickens to tendies: (you /can/ go blind from too much masturbation, vision is a leakage, your lens elongate to take in what you cannot have, keratoconus): Zizek has it wrong: as he puts it: it's not that “everything is about sex”, but rather, “sex is about everything”: not even that: sexuality is just another thing in everything: sexuality is debased because it is abased: delimited, decrepit, non-enough: even it is just another phenomenon tessellated into Time as Image, or: Time as the satanic Trivial: that which is the most visible and so the most foul: a world's law being the law of the “appearance of things”: but how do we make sense of this with respect to animals? What determines the “prior-to-priority” of man, that we must be given on our side to ask this question? The animal is the matrixial victim, the most ekstatic Life condemned to the hell of the visible, doomed to be only seen and never seeing: Genesis 9:3: it is because human beings monopolize the perspectival order that they are creations of evil: it is because the human image plane reduces Life to an edible surface, transparent film, that they are made in the image of Yaldabaoth: which is why the boomer devil is the All-Seeing Eye: the omni-opticon which reduces the World to its own goldfish cracker: the God of Being vs. the God of Life: but reality is born in the heart of Life, not in the World, because the World in its “outside-ness” is always-already the abortion of every possible reality: Christ is the horizonless revelation, in-communicable, whose Passion modelizes the agony that ended a transcendental kalpa: O my Life, you have never hurt me, it's I who have mistreated you: it was not the Father who abandoned Christ on the Cross, IT WAS CHRIST WHO ABANDONED THE FATHER:

KANT WAS ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION: forget experience: what is the transcendental condition of possibility for suffering? How do we reverse-engineer the archontic manual? We begin with a World: a phenomenality - “horizon of light” - responsible for the distinction between seeing and what is seen: manifestation is not the purchase but precisely the deprivation of a thing's truth: the flattening of goldfish to goldfish crackers, chickens to tendies: (you /can/ go blind from too much masturbation, vision is a leakage, your lens elongate to take in what you cannot have, keratoconus): Zizek has it wrong: as he puts it: it's not that “everything is about sex”, but rather, “sex is about everything”: not even that: sexuality is just another thing in everything: sexuality is debased because it is abased: delimited, decrepit, non-enough: even it is just another phenomenon tessellated into Time as Image, or: Time as the satanic Trivial: that which is the most visible and so the most foul: the world's law being the law of the “appearance of things”: but how do we make sense of this with respect to animals? What determines the “prior-to-priority” of man, that we must be given our side to ask this question? The animal is the matrixial victim, the most ekstatic Life condemned to the hell of the visible, doomed to be seen and never seeing: Genesis 9:3: it is because human beings monopolize the perspectival order that they are creations of evil: it is because the human image plane reduces Life to an edible surface, transparent film, that they are made in the image of Yaldabaoth: which is why the boomer devil is the All-Seeing Eye: the omni-opticon which reduces the World to its own goldfish cracker: the God of Being vs. the God of Life: but reality is born in the heart of Life, not in the World, because the World in its “outside-ness” is always-already the abortion of every possible reality: Christ is the horizonless revelation, in-communicable, whose Passion modelizes the agony that ended a transcendental kalpa: O my Life, you have never hurt me, it's I who have mistreated you: it was not the Father who abandoned Christ on the Cross, IT WAS CHRIST WHO ABANDONED THE FATHER:

>four years
You are like a little baby

Previously. . .

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never repress his hatred of Evil: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: a desert God sheds no tears: He who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke:

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE “GOOD” TO BE SAVED: you are a poverty so radical it is not even mixed with the desire for poverty, because even the lust for awakening is a skin graft: thought is not a parasite, but a surgeon: and my spirit is a color, not a temperature: an identity, not a mode: we may be shut centers but we still let in a skeuomorphic light: that is, compassion has nothing to do with society or evolution, it is topological, rooted in the seat I have taken in space, a pronomian emptiness: the all eye I am for every eye, the self-savior who is the self-hangman: Jesus was hated by the World, now let's think the next turn of the Christ-Screw: the Christ whose Nazareth is his own flesh, whose gaze is the “Adversary's Gaze” and whose power is doused not by the vision of those who knew him as a child but by his own vision, /the/ Child: the Anonymous One who is of one body with the Pharisees who crucify him: who is not just hated by the World but hated by himself with the force of a World: and who for precisely that reason can never be a Christ: the Stranger quantum entangled with all strangers, the distilled Victim: an animal soul who sleeps under burned bridges when it rains: whose life is a colon, a passage from death to Death: from his own manifest possibility, siamese shadow, to a God sweating blood in the garden of his soul:

>>19602483
>tfw own the whole trilogy
Should I throw them out?

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never extinguish his hatred of Evil: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: a desert God sheds no tears: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke:

LOVE LIKE THE FATHER TO HATE LIKE THE SON: there's no such thing as antinomian dualism because a real dualist would never strive to extinguish his hatred of Evil and transgression: so-called antinomian “gnostics” can only recoil off the same veil the non-dualist does: the tetralemmic darkness that impersonates the non-ontological to reinforce the ontological: because even in raping and killing with no-mind, I do not accrue evil: as implied by the coincidence of Zen and militarism, x-Buddhism and capital: “I do not act through the sword, the sword acts through me”: because even in “going with the flow” I am piloted by Time: don't I embody the chora then, the infinite evil of space, though I've vanquished the petty evil of egoism? If good and evil are colorless, don't I bury the Victim in that “utter void” of which nothing can be said, no eulogy ever spoken? So how do we staunch our tears for the Murder(ed), and overcome even the nihilism of the post-intentional? By going All The Way, beyond every gen(i)us of amor fati: this is our task, and our Golgotha: to become “Stoics” without a Logos: having nothing to do with Nietzsche because it has nothing to do with ressentiment; we begin only by negating him: swapping out his dancing God/incel Devil for Nimrod's arctic Light/tropical Darkness: the mocking Aeon of Judas and an all-too-humid Jesus: the Light that laughs and a Night that weeps, wishing for Peace in the name of all things: but a Gnostic wishes for War, because he knows the final trap is a victimology, and the nemocentric blade: a desert God sheds no tears: because he knows nothing scandalizes the mother of Darkness quite like becoming a “son of Cold Fire”, pushing through the grief of (particular) death to deliver all beings to (universal) non-death: who cleaves Life from the World with one terrible stroke: