philosophy of 20th century fascism

The glorification of masculine violence, 

the rejection of rationalism in favor of the human spirit (triumph of the will), 

the denunciation of capitalist decadence as the corrupter of a more pure, primal existence.

Soap

 

not just the object but the process of making it—

is a symbol of the brutality and violence of the “real world,” 

a world that most people would prefer to ignore.

 

Arrogance has to be earned

 

What usually happens when you poke something with a stick? 

It pokes back

 

If you can fake sincerity, you can fake pretty much anything

 

Humility is an important quality. 

Especially if you're wrong a lot.... 

Of course, when you're right, self-doubt doesn't help anybody, does it?

 

New is good. 

Because old ended in death 

 

Sometimes we can't see why normal isn't normal

 

Right and wrong do exist. 

Just because you don't know what the right answer is 

— maybe there's even no way you could know what the right answer is 

— doesn't make your answer right or even okay. 

It's much simpler than that. 

It's just plain wrong

 

I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see... 

they're all just chemical reactions that take place when the brain shuts down.... 

There's no conclusive science. 

My choice has no practical relevance to my life, I choose the outcome I find more comforting.... 

I find it more comforting to believe that this isn't simply a test

 

You want to know how two chemicals interact, do you ask them? 

No, they're going to lie through their lying little chemical teeth. 

Throw them in a beaker and apply heat

 

 when you want to know the truth about someone 

that someone is probably the last person you should ask

 

It's a basic truth of the human condition that everybody lies. 

The only variable is about what

 

Truth begins in lies

 

Of course curiosity killed the cat,

and even if satisfaction supposedly brought it back,

there's still that little problem with the man on the radio telling me more and more about some useless information.

 

I live at the end of some interminable corridor

which the lucky damned can call hell

but which the much unluckier atheists must simply get used to calling home.

 

Your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations.

You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you're some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay.

 

I've come to believe errors, especially written errors, are often the only markers left by a solitary life:

to sacrifice them is to lose the angles of personality, the riddle of a soul.

a very old soul.

A very old riddle.

 

Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you?.

 

Darkness is impossible to remember.

Consequently cavers desire to return to those unseen depths where they have just been.

It is an addiction. No one is ever satisfied. Darkness never satisfies.

Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does.

 

Physics depends on a universe infinitely centred on an equals sign.

 

People frequently comment on the emptiness in one night stands, but emptiness here has always been just another word for darkness.

Blind encounters writing sonnets no one can ever read.

Desire and pain communicated in the vague language of sex.

None of which made sense to me until much later when I realized everything I thought I'd retained of my encounters added up to so very little, hardly enduring, just shadows of love outlining nothing at all.

 

And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love.

There is only silence.

 

Prometheus, thief of light, giver of light, bound by the gods, must have been a book.

 

Why did god create a dual universe?

So he might say ‘Be not like me. I am alone.'

And it might be heard.

 

I still get nightmares.

In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now.

I'm not.

No one ever really gets used to nightmares.

 

Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.

 

Scientists have published studies about how the practice of gratitude improves mental and physical health. 

A daily gratitude practice reduces depression and increases happiness. Gratitude enhances empathy, which helps build positive relationships. It even lowers blood pressure. 

If giving thanks is so good for you, why do so many people struggle doing it? Why do we only designate one day a year to give thanks?

After everything we've been through, why not celebrate the good every day? Hug your loved ones. Smile at a stranger. Choose kindness.

 What's the worst that could happen? 

Someone might do it in return.

 

Every life on the planet begins as a single cell, which splits and multiplies over and over again.

 Each cell has a purpose and as it forms, internal and external forces converge on it, signalling to the cell what it will become. 

We call this process differentiation. 

An arm, a bone, a brain: all cells take a journey from generalized to specialized. They go from nothing to something, or what you could be to what you are. 

At a cellular level, we are made of forks in the road. A generalized cell is born and it splits and splits, not having much choice in the matter. Eventually, it's a body. Eventually, it's you, out in the world. 

So maybe you are who you are. Maybe you can't choose who you love or what you want any more than a cell can choose to be a liver, a lung, a heart.

 But cells only take you so far. 

In the end, you create yourself and your life is the life you've made.

 But no one said it would be easy.

 

Our DNA is made up out of four nucleotide bases. 

The sequences of these bases is what determines our unique genetic code. 

Everything, from dimples to eye color to tolerance for spicy food, can be found in our genes.

 Genetic makeup can also help ascertain risk for diseases. So, it stands to reason, if we want to minimize the risk, could we find a way to change our genes? And if we could, are we sure we should? 

Segments of our DNA strands can be turned on or off by our behaviours and environment. 

So why not change the expression of our DNA and make it our own? 

Because who we are isn't determined just by what we inherit but by what we choose to do with it.

 

We all have moments in which we want to hide from the results. 

But instead of closing your eyes and delaying the inevitable, find someone to hold your hand and face it with you.

 

When there's a poisonous snake in our path, we freeze.

When we smell smoke, we run.

When faced with danger, fear takes over and we react, desperate to feel safe. It's biological, primal.

But for someone who suffers from trauma, it's the everyday things. A song in a coffee shop, the smell of rubbing alcohol, seemingly random, common things, convincing your brain and body you're in danger. And there is no way out.

Too often, trauma gets dismissed as just in our head. But the pain is real. We feel it, in our muscles, our cells, our hearts, our heads.

And while there's no magic fix, no pill to make it disappear, we can ask for help.

 And we can tell our truth, whenever we're ready.

 

It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. 

Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about.

 

 I drink so I can talk to assholes. 

This includes me. 

Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality—that's-all—I was curious...

 I always preferred to be hated. 

Like Eric von Stroheim in the movies, the man you love to hate, it's meant to be ironic, courage wants to laugh.

 You know it's a stupid situation.

 

 always a piece or two left over, 

. So what do you do with that piece? 

Do you try to fit it back in? Do you try to make it work? Or do you decide you can live without that missing piece? 

When we go without certain things long enough, it's easy to forget just how much we need them. We forget what we had once. We forget what it's like to live with a thing, not that we need, but that we want. 

That's why it's so important for us to remind ourselves, for us to remember, just because we can live without something, it doesn't mean we have to.

 

 as beautiful as it is, the snow starts to melt. 

And you're suddenly standing in dirty slush, frozen and unable to feel anything at all. 

But after enough time, even that disappears. 

The ground thaws, days get longer, and though you could never imagine it, you start to feel again.