welcome, humble and rare reader; welcome to my first post in fucking months. there are a bunch of reasons for my lack of posting but chief among them is surely that i could not be fucked. its a goddamn albatross of a millstone to have hanging aropund your time online, and as such really gets in the way of downloading dwarf-and-pony porn.
i find that my other vices invariably have a way of swarming to fill the gap. when my writing wanes, they will multiply and multiply at a worrying rate, increasing in number and size until there isnt even enough room left to step back and get a look at them.
so let's review!
i couldnt give a fuck.
i was way to busy not giving a fuck to even consider giving a fuck.
glad we got that sorted.
to links!
in discussing donnie darko, itself riddled with wierdness and references to further wierdness, dark city came up, specifically the character daniel schreber. in wondering as to its relevance, it was pointed out that he is not named by accident. he is named for daniel paul schreber, famous german judge and schizophrenic.
in the early years of the 20th century (on the occasion of his apointment to the dresden supreme court) herr schreber began to have visions and episodes that led to his decision to have himself committed. shreber could have so easily just become another schizophrenic, ill understood and trapped in a 1900s sanitorium. he did not 'go gentle into that good night' however, and in his rage he wrote. he shared his visions and the experiences that went with them in
memoirs of my nervous illness
, and in doing so gave us all the gift of insight into his mental condition.(its is kinda interesting that he did so to prove his sanity: a book under your belt was good currency with the doctor with the 'sane' stamp in those days)
The nature of compulsive thinking lies in a human being having to think incessantly; in other words, man's natural right to give the nerves of his mind their necessary rest from time to time by thinking nothing...was from the beginning denied me by the rays in contact with me; they continually wanted to know what I was thinking about....For instance as one of the innumerable examples, I have for years heard hundreds of times each day the question: Why do you not say it?, the word "aloud" necessary to complete the sense being omitted, and the rays giving the answer themselves as if it came from me: "Because I am stupid perhaps." For years my nerves have had to endure incessantly such and similar terrible nonsense in dreary monotony (as if it came from them).
Daniel Paul Schreber, 1903
his book was a hit with jung, so much so that he convinced freud to read it. the two of them discussed the case at length, without ever meeting schreber(i believe. they certainly did much of their work without his direct presence, ad i have heard of no contact).
What Schreber has given us are elegantly felicitous ideas that are the poetry of madness, cast in such a way that one finds oneself becoming maddened --- or at least feeling edgy --- as we go along with him and his words. Emotions, distant from "sane" feelings, emerge through a daring born of desperation. We are forced to join him in his world, and there are no anchors there: the human soul gets pulled up so we can see it naked and raw. We are forced into a drifting state with a human that has the brain so infected that he is surviving, and teaching us to survive, without any foundation. And we find ourselves asking if this madness is infectious. (Some family therapists have suggested so. A few hours with Memoirs --- like a few hours shut up with a schizophrenic --- might help convince us).when i finally do have the funds to get this book, will i read it? will i go insane? will this and my burgeoning interest in things odd be all the nurturing push mother nature needs to trigger my latent superpow... mental illness?
god, i hope not.
i would really hate to turn into one of those guys who 'saves the world' from a supernatural evil by hacking off everyone's left leg, or something.
you just know someone would blame
metal if i did.
the cunts.