“The world ought not to be a harmonious loving place. It ought to be a place of fierce discord and intermittent harmonies: which it is. Love ought not to be perfect. It ought to have perfect moments, and wildernesses of thorn bushes. Which it has. A “perfect” relationship ought not to be possible. Every relationship should have its absolute limits, its absolute reserves, essential to the singleness of the soul in each person. A truly perfect relationship is one in which each party leaves great tracts unknown in the other party.” – D.H. Lawrence, “Studies in Classic American Literature”
Men with mystic mindsets are a superstitious sort, especially when it comes to women. As they well should. Had we a little more scrutiny toward Eve in Eden or a little more responsibility to God after, we might still be in the garden naming wondrous beasts. We fear that power however, as to name it is to claim it. McCarthy says the same in Outer Dark, for to name is it to claim it and if you don’t name it then “you cain’t talk about it even.” Modern men, being gnostics of another notion, can’t even name their own own relationships with women, and thus cannot claim them.
Continue reading “Does She Love You?”
Some more wayward thoughts I’ve collected since the Twitter ban and the start of my clean break.
Continue reading “America, Writing, and Night Running”
Another year gone, another Twitter account done. Now that the humiliation essay has been posted, it seems like God is giving me some signs I need to start following. I did always want to tweet less and start writing more.
Continue reading “2020”
Well that didn’t go as I hoped it would.
What was a necessary break inevitably turned into a longer unnecessary break. There wasn’t much that filled the gap. I read some Lasch, I discovered the language of D.H. Lawrence, a writer that I never gave the time of day because of his ‘pornographic’ reputation, and I dug into some topics related to Soviet cinema and humiliation, which I will compose posts of in due time, but there was no focus on much of anything after doing those posts on British Orientalism and the Empire. Truth be told my mind was filled up by work, the necessary evil, and getting away from this Extremely Online persona that I crafted for myself in the weird world of post-ironic politics. I once told a friend in college our generation would be more racist, and I couldn’t put my finger quite on why, but I knew it had to do with the kind of ironic racism we were already playing with back in the oughts, a decade I mostly associate with ought-not now.
Continue reading “A Mind Full of Meaninglessness”
September may be the most ephemeral of months. Coming off the bitter doldrums, something more of a happy harvest begins to set in for people. October, of course, is a tricky month and a time for contemplating the cold touch of our faintly spiritual world, and November is the time to bunker down, give thanks, and prepare, but September is the month with promise and better suited for contemplation. It’s the first hint of change in the color of the leaves and leads the mind to contemplate what will be next, and what should be.
Continue reading “In September”
The most common request I receive after the weekly avalanche of movie requests has always been for me to do more writing. To date after nearly a year, I’ve only managed to produce three pieces for The American Sun (and they are excellent, you should definitely be following this site) while I peter around on different projects. This is a problem that has caused no shortage of frustration and despondency due to the inability to produce. There’s always a new project, something that needs to be done, something that needs to be created, uploaded, recorded, promoted, and so on and so forth.
Continue reading “The Twitter Question”