Nov. 8th, 2014

Nietzsche

Nov. 8th, 2014 09:06 am
monk111: (Default)
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Nietzsche's enthusiasm for Schopenhauer, his studies in classical philology, his inspiration from Wagner, his reading of Lange, his interests in health, his professional need to prove himself as a young academic, and his frustration with the contemporary German culture, all coalesced in his first book — The Birth of Tragedy (1872) — which was published in January 1872 when Nietzsche was 27. Wagner showered the book with praise, but a vitriolic, painfully-memorable and yet authoritative critical reaction by Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Möllendorff (1848-1931) — a scholar who was to become one of Germany's leading philologists — immediately dampened the book's reception, not to mention Nietzsche's class enrolments in Basel.

Wilamowitz-Möllendorff himself came from an aristocratic family of distant Polish descent and was also a graduate of Schulpforta (1867). In his critique, he referred to Nietzsche as a disgrace to Schulpforta, and said that in light of the latter's prophetic, soothsaying, exaggerated and historically uninformed style of writing, Nietzsche should instead “gather tigers and panthers about his knees, but not the youth of Germany.” It is intriguing that in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, written thirteen years later, Nietzsche invokes the comparable imagery of a lion nuzzling warmly at the knees of Zarathustra in the book's concluding and inspirational scene, as if to acknowledge that his proper audience is, indeed, not a set of university professors.

-- Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

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Shave

Nov. 8th, 2014 11:24 am
monk111: (Flight)
Shaved again! I was setting foot in the shower this morning, after a good, long, exhaustive wank ((the Japanese really have my number when it comes to porn, as well as a great concept for mass transit)), when I was inspired to take advantage of having the house to myself and mow away the shrubbery from my face, and so I took my foot back out of the shower.

It feels good. Clean. I remember when I went for years without shaving or getting a haircut, or even leaving the house. I do not know how I did it. I guess it became comfortable. I had nowhere to go, no one to see. I still don't, but it feels better to be a little groomed.
monk111: (Default)
Bateman is having lunch with Bethany, an old girlfriend. She is kind of showing him up, and he is building up a rage. In this excerpt, he recalls one of his earlier rages from his college days.

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I have no patience for revelations, for new beginnings, for events that take place beyond the realm of my immediate vision. A young girl, a freshman, I met in a bar in Cambridge my junior year at Harvard told me early one fall that “Life is full of endless possibilities.” I tried valiantly not to choke on the beer nuts I was chewing while she gushed this kidney stone of wisdom, and I calmly washed them down with the rest of a Heineken, smiled and concentrated on the dart game that was going on in the corner. Needless to say, she did not live to see her Sophomore year. That winter, her body was found floating in the Charles River, decapitated, her head hung from a tree on the bank, her hair knotted around a low-hanging branch, three miles away.

-- “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis

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monk111: (Default)
Publishers' Clearing House sent me one of their notices. I am a sure winner. I only have to ... open the envelope and ... do something and mail it back. It brings back to mind that embarrassing episode from my law school days. I got one of those notices, and I got suckered. I thought it really was a different kind of notice, that I really was on a very short list of possible winners, that I was going to have a lot of money. Idiot. I asked mother to see if my name comes up on that show, maybe Carson's show. Idiot. I never opened those things again. And this one, too, went straight to the trash can. But you can never undo the embarrassment of the past, just like you cannot take back a lifetime of failure and fill in all those years of emptiness with the friends and lovers and happy times that you never had.
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