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Nietzsche's Peachy
To label me is to negate me, as Kierkegaard once said. But what the fuck did Kierkegaard know? He was a frolicsome twat with a goofy hairdo. Then again, looking at the triteness that inundates society, that just about describes everyone these days. Frolicsome twats with goofy hairdos...
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Nietzsche's Peachy

You spend your whole life pulling weeds, only to end it by pushing daisies.

The Dark Knight: Movie Review

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Mythologies, legends, and archetypes have been cultivated by every known society since the beginning of human history, serving as the heroes, villains, and dreamscapes for a certain people in their time and place. It could be said that the proverbial Odin or Zeus of our day is the Dark Knight himself, Batman. Likewise, the insidious Loki can be portrayed by the equally insidious Joker. All the while, the stage upon which the satyrs performed is by today's measure film canisters and comic book shelves.

So in order for anyone to properly project these gods of our time onto the silver screen without scuffing their good name, one must dig deeply into society's collective psyche; to excavate for whatever cultural nerve it is that these mythos tickle. Sometimes, however, society moves in a new direction and so too does the stigmata. Where the over-the-top, Gothic aesthetics of Tim Burton and the borderline campy, neon-inundated visuals of Joel Schumacher once twinged that old familiar appeal, we, as a Batman-loving audience, have matured; and a mature Batman movie is what we needed.

2005's Batman Begins delivered with a sucker-punch impact only Chris Nolan could pull off. His mythical directing style and Christian Bale's flawless performance gave way for a new hope, a new found optimism, if you will. We knew all too well that that was but a mere entrée, preceding the oh-so-delicious main course to come. This summer's The Dark Knight was emancipated upon the world like a tidal wave. Powered by a nuclear-reactor of media hype, jizz-my-shorts-anticipation, and the unfortunate and untimely death of Heath Ledger, the crater left by this film is still giving off smoke.

With a runtime of about 152 minutes, this flick reaches some pretty epic proportions. Chris Nolan, along with his brother Jonathon, did what he knows best here and totally geared up his ultra thematic screenwriting; while the previous Batman centered around the concepts of fear and justice, The Dark Knight completely surrounds the ideas of corruption, control, and chaos, and how they are intertwined with one another in a scummy Gotham backdrop.

Visually speaking, the movie is nothing short of stunning; Nolan fully delivers the same beige-tinted, twilight aesthetic he tantalized us with in the last film. The musical score has also been bolstered with a tension-mounting siren that has been interspersed throughout the more captivating scenes to keep your molars in a churning rhythm. Another happy addition to the series is the alterations made in ol' Batty's suit; it has been accommodated to allow for his neck to actually move which was, in past films, a rather bothersome distraction.

Christian Bale's performance was superb as was expected from his last venture as the caped crusader. Unlike Kilmer, Clooney, and Keaton, he manages to keep Bruce Wayne's feet firmly grounded in reality, making him seem rather goal-oriented and entrepreneurial. This contrasts with Batman's past portrayals as a so-what costume-clad fool, prancing about with no real long term foresight. In this, Bruce Wayne is quick to drop the whole Batman charade at the first sign of Gotham not needing him. To him, Batman is just a necessary evil. One thing that irked me with Bale's acting here is his incessant use of a far-flung, Menthol-rasped voice for Batman, which didn't seem as profound in the last movie.

While it's easy for the deaths of actors in Hollywood to incite whirlwinds of too much hype and exaggeration, Heath Ledger offered a performance that climbed above even the highest of expectations, including my own. Ledger seemingly lived out the life of the lazy-eyed, lip-smacking, serial-killer clown, rendering even Jack Nicholson's lively take on the role into a mere impersonation. The movie never elaborates on the Joker's back story, something Hollywood seems all too obsessed with doing these days. I won't go into too much detail so as not to spoil a glorious rendition that must be witnessed first-hand, but I will say that Ledger could have lived to be one-hundred-years-old and this performance still would have outlived him.

Of course, we can't ignore the supporting cast. I certainly didn't miss Katie Holmes as Rachel Dawe; Maggie Gyllenhaal sweeps through the movie as somewhat of a breath fresh air. Aaron Eckhart plays a vivacious Harvey Dent, conjuring up the same politician's smile he did in Thank You for Smoking. Michael Caine returns as the ever-venerable Alfred Pennyworth, dutifully injecting the character with dimension and likability. While Morgan Freeman's Lucius Fox, alongside Alfred, acted as a voice of reason and conscience to Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, I feel that his overall presence here isn't as necessary and has become more of a filler. Gary Oldman continues his role as James Gordon who is a pivotal character in the story arc despite being somewhat forgettable in Oldman's performance.

In truth, I think there are two major things this movie owes its success to: a plot line that encompasses a modern day epic tale of mythology, reverential to the iconography and symbolism that Batman withholds; and the clear-sighted understanding of what the Batman-audience has grown into over the years, never pandering to us kitschy nostalgia or force-feeding us a dimwitted story. This is certainly no kids movie and I felt myself having to suspend less disbelief than I predicted. It's characters, setting, and events were totally believable and seem particularly reflective of the sort of world we currently live in. While Heath Ledger's performance is the sort of smack in the face we've been waiting for, he by no means "stole" any of the scenes, let alone the movie. Even without him, I feel that this film would have still prospered. In the end, however, this movie is simply a juggernaut, a colossal converging of amazing talents that aimed to produce a truly sublime cinematic experience.

----------------
Now playing: At The Gates - Neverwhere
via FoxyTunes

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 1:33 PM 4 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: movie review

I, Shield

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

I feel weird. Bullets and Molotov cocktails once whizzed by my metal frame, now I'm a pillow for the tear-moistened cheek of a crying woman.

I shield soldiers, soldiers shield society, society shields this woman, and somehow I'm supposed to feel consolation in that.

I don't.

I simply barricade. I simply demarcate imaginary lines that wouldn't exist if man didn't exist. I make delusions into reality.

And how do you suppose I feel about this? It doesn't really matter because I'm just another inanimate object. But, you know, people forget that they too were once inanimate clumps and they will one day return to inanimate clumps.

Just once I'd like to switch effacements; to embrace that poor woman the same way she embraces me. Instead, I'm forced to impart unquestioning armament to this man who probably has less thoughts than I do.

From the corporals to the corporeal, all is an attrition between the dead and the dying.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 1:01 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: creative writing, free verse, philosophy

Funny Games: Movie Review

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Sometimes there comes a movie that doesn't behave as other movies do. Instead of accentuating the standard plots, themes, and events that is expected by most, it simply portrays a sequence of happenings. It just is. Funny Games is one such film.

Funny Games is a verbatim remake of the 1997 Austrian movie of the same name, and tells the tale of a small upper-class family and the two oddball characters they encounter while vacationing at their beautiful and yet eerily isolated summer villa. From there the sadism ensues, what with the sort of sick and twisted, devil-may-care house invasion that rivals even that of Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange in its disturbing depictions.

The gore is surprisingly minimal in this horror flick, with a more acute emphasis on the premise of house guests who won't leave. It begins somewhat slow but immediately picks up as soon as the two adolescent villains make their appearance. From then on it takes you on a pretty vigorous ride which to my irritation is stopped short somewhat awkwardly by excessive indie-experimentation.

I'm not sure what exactly the writers were trying to do but they certainly managed to be far more ballsy than any dimwitted Hollywood joint that panders to its audience like it was constituted of infants, which is something I like. However, these movie-makers go a bit far in their transgressions; they fail to realize the difference between teasingly disregarding the audience's preconceived notions and being downright mean. Making allusions that simply result in red herrings and dishing out exhilarating tension that only leads to anticlimax isn't even the kind of slap in the face Tarantino would dare.

It's rather obvious these guys were trying to imitate Tarantino, utilizing extremely long-lasting camera shots that would make even the most patient of individuals piss their pants in anticipation. I felt like a crack junkie, yearning for the next scene's arrival like it were my next fix. There was no musical score to speak of (aside from off-the-wall heavy metal used in the credits and one of the chase scenes) which certainly added to the minimalist, teeth-grinding tension.

Naomi Watts proved her acting skills here, completely stealing many of the scenes even when wearing nothing but a bloodied, vomit-covered cardigan vest and looking her worst. Meanwhile Tim Roth, respectable in his own right, was somewhat forgettable with his more stoic approach to his role. What scenes Watts didn't take, Michael Pitt was sure to hijack along with the family as he plays the sinister golfer that coordinates the night's heinous, aristocratic delinquency; at times sharing his satisfaction by addressing the audience with an evil wink or rhetorical question.

While it seems that this movie was trying to achieve an unapologetically, unprecedented level of sadism, not only to its protagonists, but to its audience as well, I think it paid a heavy price in doing so. Near the end, all that can be felt is aggravation as it seems that the writers were gleefully tantalizing you the whole time with worse tortures than the characters went through. Next time they should just keep the cruelty behind the fourth wall.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 4:20 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: movie review

Scar Tissue


Much has been lost along with the blood. But the skin, we forget about the skin--the skin that wraps our torsos, the skin that strangulates our necks, the skin that gloves our hands is irreplaceable. Such flesh is precious and unmarred at birth.

Until afflicted.

Until abrasions scoop away its mass, until time stretches it into thin oblivion, until knives, bullets, blades, and nails reveal what it so vigorously attaches itself to.

It becomes scar tissue. Sinewy, lithe formations that are vastly inferior to its predecessors just as cellophane is inferior to Kevlar. Bubbled up to cover the unclothed spots, even though it neither keeps its contents warm nor protected.

Opaque like palpitating geckos and frogs.

It adds up too.

Little by little it germinates exteriors like a mossy glaze, transforming into reptilian monstrosities. It devolves. A new Jurassic epoch on its way, being rendered by the monotonous accumulation of fatty skin scuffs. Silky decadence suspended briefly turns to paleolithic dinosaur leather bred to survive the vicissitudes.

Spoiled milk spilled with tears.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 12:46 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: creative writing, free verse, philosophy

Hello, Gun

Thursday, July 10, 2008


Hello, gun, my old friend. I see you're at your old tricks again.

You seem as indifferent as usual. Almost complacent really, especially in the face of what is to come. When he pulls the trigger. When the trigger releases the hammer. When the hammer slams face first into the primer. The bullet spiraling down the grooved cave, heading towards the light at the end of the tunnel until...

Birth. Life. Death. All in the same moment.

Tell me, gun, how does it feel? How does it feel to be handled by a person with such exactitude; with such confidence? What's it like to mother a race of hollow-tipped children who's only fate is to become mere shells of their former selves?

I guess I should ask the same thing to the man who shot me.

After all, isn't there a cause, a creed, somewhere out there that is pulling his trigger the same way he is pulling yours? In the end it seems to be a complex contraption with a simple purpose. The politician rants, the fists fly into the air, the screams bellow.

The trigger pulls.

The hammer falls.

The bullet spirals.

My body hemorrhages.

And I, gun, what of I? I am born, I live, and I die, all in a split second.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 4:48 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: creative writing, free verse, philosophy

The Beach

Sunday, June 22, 2008

I play with sand because all is sand.
I build castles from it despite their inevitable demises.
The wind's abrasions suffers the towers until their moist walls crack.
It's alright because I know the wind well,
It suffers me not.

Others climb intricate stairs upwards,
They pass buckets of sand in haste,
Hoping to beat the wind,
Hoping to beat the tide.

Their castle falls as it should,
And I laugh.

Upside-down buckets and half-buried spades amuse me,
Not upside-down and half-buried humans.
Boys with bowls above their brows scurry.
Only their quick glances and quick whispers peak over the trenches.

Someone captured their flag as is expected,
And I laugh.

The wind ushers the tide to me as if giving it away.
I seem to be the only one to recognize such a charitable act.
Oh well all the more for me.
Footsteps follow my feet toward the hissing,
Until my immersed torso becomes ghostly.

I drown in the frothing deep as was foreseen,
And I laugh.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 3:40 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: creative writing, poetry

Transcendental Nihilism

Nihilism


Nihilism
can not be logically conceptualized, free of paradoxes, without distancing it, as a concept, from the realm of philosophies, ideologies, and "-isms". It is generally understood that all that comprises a philosophy are its premises and whatever conclusions, unique to that philosophy, are affirmed based on those premises. Nihilism, however, lacks such conclusion-making, which has lent to its being perceived as counterintuitive when thought of within the context of ideology.


Thus, nihilism could be said to only make sense as something other than a philosophy. Since most philosophies, generally speaking, deal with absolutes and are blanket systems of thought, applicable in any location at any time, nihilism can be regarded as a strategy; such strategies differ from philosophies in that they are more local and temporal, only significant within the context of their respective place and period. As a strategy, nihilism can take on the form of any ideal, despite how non-nihilistic such ideals may seem from a broader scale, within the context and circumstances it resides in.


Nihilism, as said above, can be summed up as, when thought of as a strategic strain of thought and action rather than an all-encompassing order of beliefs, a simple and concise premise. This premise can be best thought of as Sartre's existence precedes essence, the existential postulate present within many contemporary philosophies, even ones that preceded Sartre's assertions (most of which were in themselves refinements of previously asserted conclusions). One can, for conceptual expedience, refer to this as the nihilistic premise.


This nihilistic premise is much like a force in the same manner that nihilism is like a strategy; a force that, when abutted against the context of established values, particular to a time and place (the most relevant of which being modern day, Western society), is utterly destructive and corrosive to surrounding ontologies. Much like how a joke can debase the seriousness of certain values (making humor an extremely nihilistic facet of expression), the nihilistic premise saps all meaning and intrinsic significance from commonly accepted promulgations.


Since the nihilistic premise so mercilessly attacks foundation and the propositions built on such foundation, it seems rather paradoxical for it to be succeeded by propositions of its own, even if on a temporary basis. When most people think of nihilism, it is the fatalistic nihilistic premise, which, by most standards of logic, inevitably results in infinite regress, that they are ignorantly thinking of. The nihilistic premise, however, is only one aspect of the totality of nihilism. It is also usually the basis for many revolutionary ideals; from the Bolsheviks to the hippies to the punks to Islamic terrorists; revolutionary ideals that have put forth an idealistic conclusion for what is to be built after the dust settles from the debris and rubble of the proverbial revolution. While these sentiments are the usual targets of the nihilistic premise, the nihilistic premise underpins these sentiments temporarily, using them as a means to an end; using them like vehicles to accomplish an overall destruction of other sedentary doctrines of thought.


After all, the ideals that the nihilistic premise fuels are in themselves polemic in nature, provisional upon the relative, entrenched notions and beliefs of that time. This lends to nihilism's context-dependency; the established values of one context are revolutionary values of another context; what the values are is not pertinent, rather it is their opposition to the current ontological hegemony or zeitgeist of that time and place. Thus, the nihilistic premise can be equated to iconoclasm for the sake of iconoclasm or revolution for the sake of revolution.


The way in which the nihilistic premise relates to nihilism is not the same way other premises relate to their respective philosophies, imparting to nihilism being a strategy. Nihilism as a whole is simply the overall pursuit for the destruction of affirmations via surrogate affirmations. In this manner it changes shape and form like a chameleon so as to blend in and sabotage the stability of values and the statue quo. As soon as one revolution succeeds, another one is immediately in the works to subvert the former. So it is to say that the nihilistic premise is the soldier bunkered down in its time and place while the whole of nihilism is the overall war machine that churns infinitely across time and space.


Nihilism seems to thereafter exist as an agent of entropy; as an inevitable force of nature that exists outside the mental frameworks of individuals' consciousnesses. Revolutionaries, after all, do not consciously incite revolution for nihilism's sake; rather it is usually for the petty ideals and sentiments they aspire to manifest into reality. Karl Marx, in all his conclusive folly, was rather accurate in recognizing the long, ongoing discourse of human society and its machine-like continuum of revolutions (i.e., the nihilistic premise); he hoped, however, to stop this meshing of seemingly ceaseless gears with an absolute governmental entity, despite such a government's inescapable lack of any innate, tangible ontology.


Existentialism and Nihilism


Since the beginning of the human discourse of thought and philosophy, the nihilistic premise has, on occasion, arisen from the depths of its subconscious habitat into the conscious realm of awareness. When philosophers began to embrace this premise within their world views, they attempted, in an almost naive fashion, to build a philosophy from it. Kierkegaard is most commonly accredited for being the first of these existentialists.


While there are separations between atheistic (Sartre) and theistic (Kierkegaard) strains of existentialism, Kierkegaard's leap of faith is a fundamental concept in it. Such a concept is a testament to the behavior of the first existentialists, of whom were daring, pioneering individuals and whom eventually grew braver in their nihilistic tendencies in the subsequent generations to the point where they could currently be considered nihilists; they touched upon the hot coals of the nihilistic premise in brief admittance to the subjectivity of all thought and knowledge, only to swiftly pull back in agonizing despair; only to hurriedly cherish subjectivity and false ontology, despite them being mere figments of overactive imaginations.


Existentialism is to philosophy as Marxism is to politics and socio-economics; it is the forced establishment of ontology for its own sake; that is, stability for the sake of stability. Just as Marxism hopes to dam up the flow of revolutionary discourse, existentialism hopes to diagnose and treat the nihilistic premise. It does this by imbuing meaning into meaning; i.e., it recognizes the nihilistic premise and its implications, but attempts to somehow stifle these implications with the leap of faith.


Such a philosophy, being based on the nihilistic premise, is by no means incorrect in its conclusions and is, by some regards, quite commendable in its postulations. There is, however, a simple matter of authenticity. Existentialism proposes a very spontaneous, phenomenological interpretation of the world, emphasizing the importance of the subjective. What disrupts this seemingly carefree outlook is existential angst (which is in itself the conscious recognition of the nihilistic premise).


The way in which this angst is invoked is, most often, through the interaction with other human beings; that is, other, sometimes contentious or oppositional perspectives. Such interaction creates instability within the subjective framework that the mind has built the world upon. When two entirely separate truths compete with one another, they, in turn, make each other somehow less authentic or believable.


After all, when the dialectic of methodical arguing, assuming it is logical and without blind fallaciousness, is done with, both sides are left with nothing more than the realization that neither of the two were right nor wrong (which is, once again, the nihilistic premise coming into view). Suspended disbelief and logical fallacies are the only saviors for subjectivity in this case, making any insightful, logical person a victim of his own intellectual reasoning. To look at your opponent in the face; to see that he sees you the same way you see him is a reminder to your own objectivity.


Sartre quite accurately delineated this in his Being and Nothingness; in it, he elaborates on his idea that "Hell is other people" by putting forth the concept of "the Other". To Sartre, the Other was the rest of the sociological world abutted against the individual with the friction and abrasions between the two being angst. For Sartre, a person is a subject existing within a world of objects. Under this scenario, the entire world of objects exists for the individual subject, giving the subject a sort of possession of the world and the freedom to attribute to it ontology and teleology on a whim. The scenario is, unfortunately, immediately interrupted when another individual subject enters the picture. It is at this point that the two subjects a.) see each other as the objects that they truly are, making them exist for each other, or rather, for the Other, and b.) must share with one another the objective world and, if they are to coexist peacefully, they must also share some values to imbue the objective world with.


It is this realization that we are not alone that makes the values that one withholds less authentic. Much like how a chauvinist objectifies women, the Other objectifies the individual subject, making whatever ontologies that that subject puts forth just another opinionated perspective in the muck of today's melting pot of worthless, disingenuous values. It is analogous to the difference between art and kitsch.


The existentialist's solution to this, at least from a Sartrean view, is somewhat psychiatric in nature; it suggests that one ought to commit much of one's time to overcoming angst, a process of which existentialism believes will never end, as well as surmounting the external pressures of the Other, and making oneself an authentic subject.


Nihilism and existentialism are both founded on the nihilistic premise; both acknowledge the emptiness and nothingness that seems to permeate existence; both are uncompromising in their acknowledgment; that is, they have emerged from the muddy waters of denial that other philosophies continue to splash around in.


However, the fundamental difference, of which is monumental compared to any similarities the two may share, is that existentialism seems incapable of transcending the sphere of the individual; trapped, almost, to catering to a subjective unit of understanding (i.e., the self), of which it practically worships; meanwhile nihilism, in all its openness, could and would operate within any strata of contextual thought, beyond and below the individual self, given that it was allowed. That is to say that existentialism grows sedentary, much like Marxism or humanism, settling, almost stagnantly in the absence of God, with a certain paradigm or sphere of comprehension, with rules, vocabularies, and grammars particular to those spheres (like a board game). (I might add that Sartre himself was a Marxist and humanist.) It settles with such sentiments, not because they are righteous or truthful, but because the human mind requires abstract rules in the game of life to properly function; thus, they exist for their own sake.


Contrarily, nihilism, while doing much of the same value-creation that existentialism does, practices a level of iconoclasm that existentialism never dares to go near. That is, existentialism isn't so much of an antithesis to nihilism, rather it is but one side of it. Existentialism aims to subjectify the individual (Marxism aims to subjectify society, humanism aims to subjectify humanity); nihilism simply aims to subjectify that which objectifies everything else, which often times coincides with existentialism's emphasis on the individual.


Transcendental Nihilism


An example of nihilism's intent, if it could be said that there is one, is its pursuit of authenticity. That is to say that authenticity is, in itself, an extremely flighty and elusive creature, and is very difficult to capture for any length of time within the confines of context. In order to properly witness even just the slightest bit of authenticity requires a great deal of value-destruction; i.e., room needs to be made and useless notions need to be cast aside to get to the deep core that authenticity seems to love to burrow into.


Thus, since authenticity and borderline self-induced solipsism seem to go hand-in-hand, nihilism scarcely tolerates the existence of other individuals, of whom may disrupt whatever subjective order one has managed to construct; at least insofar as those individuals are in disagreeable and contentious terms with said order. This seemingly paranoid backlash against the Other is somewhat analogous to Nietzsche's will to power. Such nomenclature can not be properly translated without a tinge of ambiguity, as was Nietzsche's habit, so that many misinterpret what the will to power is.


Existentialism's self-affirmation, in a sense, could be considered the will to power. It is the overall liquidation of values that did not originate from the self (thus, it is the liquidation of other selves; other individuals; of the Other) in order to make room for values that did originate from the self, inducing authenticity. The nihilistic premise (and, subsequently, nihilism) is simply an instrument used for such a clearing of values (or, as Nietzsche called it, the "re-evaluation of values") and is paramount to the eventual affirmation of existentialism. This, of course, is not how some people have come to view the will to power; some take the "power" aspect of the term quite literally, deriving from it advocacy of blind power-acquisition. It should be noted that the "power" these people are referring to is a phantasmal sociological construct that retains no natural girth outside of society's rigid structure.


What stunts existentialism's strategic utilization of nihilism, particularly the way Nietzsche delineates it, are concepts and attitudes congruent with the Kierkegaardian leap of faith and whatever Marxist, humanistic ideological spawns have sprung forth from it. In this manner, existentialism is wholly without nihilism, making it, if not extremely theistic, then extremely reverential for similar logical fallacies and self-induced blindness that is present within theism. Such existentialists simply conclude that if ignorance is bliss, then they will have nothing to do with the pangs of consciousness and nihilistic awareness.


Existentialists of the opposing breed, however, have come to realize that in order for their sentiments of an ontology-bestowing, value-creating, and freedom-enjoy world to exist, a revolution of sorts is needed. And so, just as all the various flagships of different revolutions withhold the same nihilistic premise deep within their hulls, so too does the existential revolution, or, as I prefer to call it, the meta-revolution. The meta-revolution transcends all other revolutions in that it is fundamentally contained nihilism; that is, nihilism temporarily in a straitjacket. Nihilism has, in this sense, been tamed by the existentialists to serve their own purpose.


It was Nietzsche's belief that such a meta-revolution would be succeeded by a new age of Ubermensche. Of course such notions crossover into the realm of speculative fiction and beyond the limits of reasonable predictions and foresight. It is in an intriguing notion, however, and makes one wonder what is necessary to authenticate oneself and one's values.


Existentialism, within the context of the postmodern condition (of which is plagued by existential angst and the Other), can only exist with an escapist, consumerist mentality. It is unable to properly authenticate itself because to do such would call for nihilism, the meta-revolution, and the will to power to be enacted.


Transcendentalism, a philosophy promulgated by the likes of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, is similar to existentialism in that it emphasizes the intuitive self as being the only true and authentic source for value, ontology, and teleology. It differs, however, in its approach to man's estrangement and angst due to the Other; it prefers to deny the Other, not so much in its existence, but rather, it's validity, thereby eradicating the Other whenever the opportunity arises. Existentialism would simply prefer to stagnate, making as few destructive gestures as possible, coping with and accepting the Other, hoping to authenticate itself even when it is well aware that that is impossible given the circumstances. As a result, transcendentalism characteristically leans towards man's reconciliation with nature through solitude and asceticism.


While existentialism strives to receive empowerment of freedom and responsibility from the nihilistic premise, it could be said that a sort of transcendental nihilism strives to use the nihilistic premise as society's proverbial wrecking ball (i.e., the meta-revolution). Such transcendental nihilists are more grounded in reality in that, while they agree with existentialists in terms of value-creation, they recognize that such value-creation isn't possible (authentically) in such a highly opinion-saturated world.


Thus, realizing that the world is overpopulated, transcendental nihilism can, seemingly cruelly and coldly, put forth ideas that promote disease, famine, and war in hopes of reducing the population. While we humans may have achieved evolutionary supremacy, that is, we have preserved the corporeal self in almost ever facet of plausible danger, we are now in the midst of a new game of survival; the survival of our metaphysical selves. Our subjective selves, the ones we project onto the objective world, is constantly being threatened by the Other, necessitating that we preserve ourselves via obliterative nihilism.


Transcendentalism, generally speaking, suggests the self is not so much the limits and outlines of our physical bodies, but rather, the entire part of the world to which we have grown affinity with. That is, while Platonic philosophies consider the self to exist somehow within the body or mind (i.e., the spirit, the soul, any intangible thing within the corporeal body of flesh), and science, humanism, existentialism, and Marxism simply tack the self onto the materialistic, corporeal body itself, transcendentalism projects the self as far out as possible, albeit before colliding with the projected selves of others, or the Other (in other words, such projection is the will to power). In this way, the corporeal self can be nothing more than an instrumental aggregate, granted an important one, of the whole self, acting as a means to fulfilling a self-made teleological end. The projected self, thus, resembles a narrative or epic story.



Since existentialism can not be asserted authentically presently, the alternative is transcendental nihilism, which resembles existentialism in theory, but differs from it in practice. It embraces the self-projecting will to power; it supports the meta-revolution (thereby supporting all surrogated revolutions); it contemptuously assails the Other, using the nihilistic premise to do such; and it cultivates the eventual recreation of values after said meta-revolution. Perhaps the Ubermensche could result from it after all.

Convoluted Blathering by Nietzsche's Peachy at 3:39 PM 0 shrieks of tortuted souls    

Subjective Image-Concepts: essay, philosophy

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