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Continuation of my notes on the Magdeburg Trip and Moustache Conference:

1. Only been to one conference before, a Rune Guild do in 2008 where i lunched with the Dandy Highwayman and chatted with the pleasant Ian Read.

to whom i mentioned the notorious Man in Black and Read chortled: “Yeah, MiB, he doesn’t look human really, I asked him, I said, oi MiB, you got any Sami blood, ‘cos you look like a space alien or something, you don’t look human.”

2008’s conference was a surprisingly life-changing affair. As if to mark the caesura in my life, someone jumped in front of my train home and i got back to Manchester at 0300, after hours sitting and sighing and groaning and cursing those self-indulgent enough to end their misery in such a fashion. i took a taxi home, enraged at the expense but also sensing this was part of my transition, from the old life to the new – to be inconvenienced, a voluntary death, my routines disrupted, the world halted & reconfigured. Afterwards, a door in my mind opened and it is fair to say i came to Germany because of the subsequent mental experiences, and had the strength to endure my own desolation thereby.

2. Not that i expect anything spiritually comparable in 2018, though violence is indeed possible. i leave the hotel on Saturday morning, Juniper looking mildly worried & highly Germanic as i head bravely out to my sordid demise under Antifa boots. i contemplated taking a brace of rabid dobermann, then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble in the event of arrest so settled on my Murder Pen (a Chinese-built tactical pen, replacement for my beloved Uzi), a belt/whip, sturdy leather bag to block knife thrusts, and a Millwall Brick.

i walk. And walk. Out of Magdeburg’s centre and down a main road. i am now approaching the destination. My plan is to overshoot, look for Commie surveillance, and then double back. The surveillance is far from discreet: a gaggle of odd, nerdish-looking folk with huge cameras, photographing everyone from the other side of the road. Who are these unfortunates? i wonder, pitying their genetic inferiority. Do they have Kallmann Syndrome? Are they vegans? Oh, it’s Antifa.

Are they going to attack? Will they sally forth to – uh, no, just photography. Oh. What would Pavel Sudoplatov think of such frail beings? Hefting my uselessly heavy bag of weaponry i enter the venue for today’s Institut für Staatspolitik event.

3. i register, head in, and immediately see Jared Taylor.

Rather astounded, i think: Elberry my son, you are in the presence of the Hwhite Race, comport yourself accordingly.

i look around. i am the only non-white present. 249 whites and one Elberry, by god. A few possibly-hostile stares but then Germans tend to look at everyone with hostility and i’m from Huddersfield so what can you expect. i look for somewhere to sit, don’t want to be at the front or at the back, find two empty seats and ask a chap (in German) “can I sit here?”, he assents so i sit between him and a white-haired chap in black (who i later see is wearing a Catholic or Lutheran clerical collar and i feel a bit abashed, having accidentally brandished my Thor’s Hammer at him), opposite two women. i get my little notebook and pencil out to take notes.

Martin Lichtmesz is first. To my surprise i can follow most of his German speech; following Trump’s Syria strike, and lacking faith in the God Emperor beloved by all, ML talks extemporaneously on the matter. As he talks, one of the women opposite finds her girly pen doesn’t work so i whip out the Murder Pen and present it for her use; thereafter she makes copious notes with what is basically a weapon with an ink cartridge, her girly pen failing her in her hour of need because she is not a fascist.

She looks vaguely familiar, reminds me a little of the fluffy Wiccans i met in 2008. She actually resembles the primary real-life-model for Polly Church in my hideous Bildungsroman The Better Maker; but, i think, i know her from somewhere else. Is she Hitler’s daughter?

Lichtmesz’s speech is good. i remember little but these are the notes i made, inspired by his words:

3.1 Trump: a blow can be struck. Hope. The Enemy want us to despair, Denethor-style, to collapse on our sofas cursing not merely the usual suspects but also anyone who does more than sit on a sofa cursing the usual suspects. i think, another function of Q-Anon: the so-called Great Awakening, to give us hope: that the good guys are acting, that we are not utterly helpless, not utterly abandoned. The elites want us to despair, to slump on our sofas drinking ourselves to death and cursing anyone who tries to resist as a shill or insufficiently despairing; as Denethor curses Gandalf and wants to burn his own son to death. For the Denethors, the only solution is to drink oneself to death on the sofa and hate anyone who tries to do anything at all for the West, to accuse them of being good-for-nothings, deluded, to hate them more than the real Enemy.

In Bruno Bettelhem’s The Informed Heart, those who mentally surrender become “Muslims”, passive and fatalistic, shambling about the concentration camp and inevitably perishing. In more ways than one, the elites want us to become “Muslim.”

3.2 Lichtmesz says, how debased and revolting would you have to be, to read the Asterix comics and to side with the Romans?

4. Millennial Woes’ speech. The Sour Elf advised me of this conference, herself unable to attend. i am not normally a joiner but couldn’t resist the prospect of a bit of Woes. As ever, he is eloquent, human, charismatic, disheveled. He talks of the Alt-Right, its history, its present. It is, in some ways “an attitude”. He contrasts it to what i call “sad-faced men in tweed”, the Scrutons and Dalrymples, men in their late-middle age lamenting decline without hope. “The arrogance of the young was missing” Woes says. He emphasises the importance of a subculture, of aesthetics: fashwave etc.

When a movement has real force, it feeds into & draws from a subculture of jokes, fashion, music, art. It is, in his word “unashamed”.

The modern man: “starved of a connection to eternity”. i think of my ex-student Heinrich, an intelligent energetic man with absolutely no religious or spiritual component, a man who spends his free time drinking heavily and chasing women half his age, a man who is desperately unhappy but doesn’t know why. When the material is all, it is both frenetic & unsatisfying (Kierkegaard: the demonic is like a spinning top, in constant dizzying movement that goes nowhere).

“Power is not inert” – the allegedly minority groups jockeying for power will never rest at a certain point of influence, they will always crave more power, dominance, hegemony.

The absolute horror the Left feel for the Alt-Right (as opposed to their mere disdain for the paleocons): “They know we are bringing them the plague.”

5. A typically great Woes speech, which i guess he will post on his channel soonish. Then the lunch break, i see Woes chatting with someone at the front so go to bring him the Tributes from Munich: items i “sourced”, as i teach or have taught at the companies which produce them, and so got these Woes-related goodies for free. i abruptly interrupt his chat, brandishing my Tributes, note he is shorter than i expected (i thought he would be almost 7 foot tall but in fact he is about 5′ 9 – 10″ like Hitler), his blue eyes, the look of intelligence and force and undefended awareness (i get the feeling, he does not put mental fences around his thoughts); i pull my tributes out and he is unguardedly pleased but also, i sense, a bit overwhelmed by the new people, by his new prominence, perhaps a little disconcerted at a Sturmstachioed Anglo-Indian suddenly appearing in an Alt-Right conference. i babble inanely like a teenager before a rock star; and then realise i rather rudely interrupted his chat; i pass on greetings from the Sour Elf and The Great Order, and depart before security can drag me away; later i chortle, imagining myself babbling more & more insanely & inanely as his eyes widen with amazement, me finally falling to the ground and clutching his feet and wailing: “i’m your biggest fan!” as he recoils in horror & dread.

Years from now i will boast of this great moment – actually, to my surprise, Woes even shook my hand, so i can now say: “i met Millennial Woes. He…touched me. He gave me my fascism” and non-believers will jeer “you knew Millennial Woes?” and i will snap: “i never said i knew him. i said he touched me!”

5. Lunch, then Roger Devlin. Notes inspired by Devlin:

5.1 He actually says naturgemäs: i’ve never heard anyone except Thomas Bernhard use this excellent word, and am naturally delighted.

5.2 Without limits, nothing can exist. Existence is limitation. Chaos is the penultimate stage in the descent into utter non-being.

6. Jared Taylor. He says hwhite several times. Fokcen awesome. Re: George Casey claiming that the US Army’s victory in Iraq was owing to their diversity: “It’s only hwhite people who are capable of this level of profound stupidity.”

And, which i recall got him a round of applause: “Europe must stay European, forever.”

7. Manuel Ochsenreiter discusses Trump. Ochsenreiter is very anti-American, which is fair enough. For “globalism” could one substitute “Americanisation”? He makes a good point, that a one-legged lesbian dwarf POTUS who starts no foreign wars would be better for Europe than a Politically Incorrect warmonger. Naturally, i have faith in the God Emperor; i am reasonably sure that Trump’s missile strike is a token gesture, as it were to say “we can still project force”; and it could be it merely struck an ISIS stronghold or chemical-weapon-factory.

8. Throughout the Moustache Conference, i wonder why the woman using my Murder Pen looks familiar. She seems in her 30s, short dark hair. Is it merely that she resembles the main model for Polly Church in my novel? She writes with her left hand, as does the woman to her left, as do i, as does Millennial Woes. Statistically improbable. Then – people bring her a book and ask her to sign it with my Murder Pen. Oho, i think, and say “is this your book?” and we fall to talking. Ah, yes, i have seen her before: she is Caroline Sommerfeld, i have seen her on Youtube; indeed, her book i saw (i think) on the Sour Elf’s shelves when we watched the Woes/Golden One stream. She asks how i heard about the conference and i say “the Sour Elf” (whom she knows), and i say i really just came to see Millennial Woes, she says “Martin and I did a stream for Milleniyule and the lighting was very dark so Martin and I are sitting on a bed together in the dark and it looks like some evil dark Right-wing conspiracy.”

She then asks if i’m more AfD or Identitäre Bewegung, i have almost no idea what she’s talking about so say: “i’m just quite racist, to be honest.”

She strikes me as a very nice, decent person – she seems utterly lacking in my type of baleful apocalyptic will-to-destruction. Lichtmesz at some point sits opposite her and we chat briefly, and i feel, “this cove is a fierce type.” Later, i hear he smokes pipes – a significant fact.

i chat with the woman to Sommerfeld’s left, Sophie Liebnitz. She presents me with a book of hers – tote weiße männer lieben and we talk a bit about academia. Everyone is surprisingly friendly and i think, Damn, why did i bring all my weapons when i don’t need to use them on anyone?

i reclaim my Murder Pen from Sommerfeld and head back to the hotel to meet Juniper, who has spent the day walking about Magdeburg being healthy and tolerant and eating soup.

8. Sunday we walk around Magdeburg and find some little nooks of interest:

On Sunday evening we take our separate trains home. She wishes me a good journey. i glumly remind her that returning from the Rune Guild conference i was delayed by 5 hours.

At Bamberg a suicide delays the train an hour.

Arrive in Munich at midnight; the s-bahns to my distant semi-rural/fascist suburb are disrupted by hours (construction), the display signs are all totally wrong so i waste 40 minutes standing on a train platform waiting in vain, because i have not yet learnt to distrust everybody; the station is infested with Sand Peoples of all stripes, no doubt plotting a kebab-related atrocity so i take a taxi home and arrive well after 0100, mildly aggrieved but of course not overly surprised. i drink some whisky and stay awake till 0300, then sleep 6 hours and go to teach my moustachioed blue-collar engineers, and one of them invites me to tour the factory and lets me keep my bright yellow Bob the Builder helmet as a trophy, as a mark of my New Life.

i shall, naturgemäs, wear it for my next conference.

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And so i went to Magdeburg for a Moustache Conference. My notes:

1. Friday 13th. Train from Munich to Halle then Magdeburg. i read (Lawrence James: The Rise & Fall of the British Empire, Dan Abnett: Horus Rising, Max Frisch: Homo Faber, Christopher Caldwell: Reflections on the Revolution in Europe), and this article by Ugo Bardi.

After Halle some of the houses are almost English in style and materials, a first for me in Germany; in Bavaria they are typically wooden farmhouses, or concrete blocks with plaster finish, neither really to my taste.

Two seats ahead an oldish chap with a resonant voice is talking to another passenger, i catch “Kreisau” and think of Von Moltke, whose letters i’ve been reading for a few months, then he says “Kreisauer Kreis” and i wonder if i heard aright, then he says “Von Moltke”. It crosses my mind, Perhaps they are also going to the Moustache Conference.

2. My hotel: the Maritim. There were slightly cheaper hotels on offer but they all had far lower reviews so Maritim it is. i am disgruntled to find no kettle or iron (an odd omission for a 4-star hotel), however the rooms are nice enough. i go to pick up Juniper from the train station an hour later. She exclaims, disapprovingly, “Mensch! How much did you pay for this? I would never come to a hotel like this! I would find a very cute cheap little Pension where you can talk to the other guests and there is a cute little Oma who makes veggie soup every day, not this kind of place! This is a place for these stupid men in suits who make a lot of money and drive big expensive cars!”

In the evening, the lift is slightly mystical.

Nautical theme: at night, Juniper is reading some woman’s book in her bed and i gaze at the open window, see her reflection gently shifting from side to side and for a moment i think her bed is swinging as our ship crests a wave, then realise it is the window itself, moving in the breeze.

3. The ‘stache conference is Saturday so we have time to explore the city. i had heard bad things: crime, ugly architecture etc; and on first glance these are confirmed: compared to Munich the women are mostly plain, there are many awful modern slab buildings, and the men look primitive, pig-eyed and scowling – in the first evening i trade cold stares with three young (white) guys who look about to glass me for, i suppose, being in Magdeburg. Despite 7 years in peaceful Munich i immediately revert to my Huddersfield mode, that world where only violence can afford satisfaction and everyone is a likely enemy, every object a potential weapon, every street and every bar a crime scene waiting to happen.

On the plus side, not many Sand Peoples.

Almost no crows. Just lots of pigeons, some sparrows in quieter areas. When i hear a crow call, i look up and wonder, What kind of city is this, to have so few of your kind?

Almost no cops.

Few trees and green areas, but those it has are in some way greener than i’ve seen before: a vivid, almost pulsing green. The trees are often covered in a velvetty, rich lichen or moss. It’s the closest thing i’ve seen to what Stephen Donaldson calls earthpower in his Thomas Covenant books – the sense of a semi-sentient force in the natural world.

The city is generally very clean. The buildings – even the ugly ones – look well-maintained, and it is festooned with often rather grim sculptures, i suspect paid for by the so-called “solidarity tax” West Germany has been paying for the last three decades.

A Dantean cauldron:

Fascist penguins:

We sight abhorrent artefacts from afar. Juniper: “What is this? This looks very horrible!” Me: “It’s probably a Holocaust reminder, don’t forget how bad you white people are, if you don’t want to be raped by Abdul then you’re a Nazi etc.” Juniper: “Or it could be something nice, oder?”

We approach and once again i am proven correct:

The courts are pleasingly grim of signage:

4. It is eerily quiet. “But I ask myself, where is the centre?” Juniper exclaims, looking vexed and highly German. We wander around but can only find largely empty streets, largely empty squares (some massive). It seems that Magdeburg has no centre. i reflect, does a city need a centre? – can it be a city without a centre? Or is it just an assemblage of disconnected elements? Juniper say she finds it confusing and disorienting; i agree: “A city needs a centre. A society needs a centre, a coherent master identity, a central race and purpose.” It needs the Sturmstache.

The modern world has, at best, sham centres. When a city or society has a centre, all the quarters are united in an organic whole. Modern folk, looking at e.g. the Middle Ages, think the rich hated the poor and vice versa, but it was more of a natural hierarchy, with each level to some degree reliant on the others (though of course hatred is a human constant).

The modern ideal is an airport: no centre, no identity, merely a sprawl of overpriced shops and waiting lounges, with security cameras everywhere.

5. There are many nice buildings in Magdburg; but apart from the riverbank there seem no nice areas, no nice places. Everything is isolated, disintegrated. There are old stone churches and pre-war remnants right next to skyscrapers, as if to remind you: everything is meaningless, there is no order, there is no centre.

It is an incoherent city with much of worth, and much to see. i especially enjoyed the Hundertwasser house, which looks like something from a fairy tale, a little incongruous amidst mostly hideous modern slabs:

Juniper and i go to a cafe in the Hundertwasser house and i eat one of the best cakes of my life:

With this view above me:

6. In the evening i thirst for cocktails so we go to ONE Cocktailbar but then i get hungry and decide to just eat a big-ass baguette and drink wine and talk about Hitler. Wine arrives. Baguette does not. After ten minutes an unGermanically friendly German waiter (probably mid-20s) apologises cheerfully, saying it will take a while. i assure him it’s fine. Five minutes later he presents me with a free quiche, as an apology for the late baguette. i am taken aback by one of the first examples of real customer service in Germany, in my lifetime, and thank him profusely.

It is the finest quiche i’ve ever eaten.

Then, fifteen minutes later, the big-ass baguette arrives. Juniper eyes me disapprovingly: “Are you sure you want to eat that horrible big sandwich now, after your nice quiche? Wouldn’t it be better to save it for your brekkie tomorrow?”

“No, i want to eat it now,” i grunt like a caveman, and devour it with enormous pleasure, her radiant disapproval actually enhancing the experience.

i finish my wine, reflecting on the bar and the friendliness of the waiter, and my free quiche. i feel enormously content here, and well-disposed to the waiter – his affable, unguarded good cheer has gladdened me, and i feel he is an uncomplicatedly good man.

The bar looks like a young man’s hipster bar, with cool music (and smoke – if i’d realised you could smoke i would have brought my pipe just to irritate Juniper all the more), and so i guess that most people here would turn on me if they knew why i am in Magdeburg, if they knew that i am, indeed, a lovely fascist. i think of this video by Millennial Woes:

 

Speaking of whom, i shall continue posting about Magdeburg in a second part, in which i encounter Antifa at close quarters, actually get to use my Murder Pen tactical pen, and brandish a Thor’s Hammer at a Roman Catholic priest. To be continued…

 

1. Did yet another edit of Vocations and The Better Maker this week, hideous labour so when i absolutely couldn’t take any more i read The Genius Famine by Bruce Charlton and Edward Dutton. It’s an excellent work. Charlton/Dutton observe that we no longer live in an age of geniuses, but rather of minor talents, men and occasionally women who tinker with ideas & inventions of a vanished age.

The authors define genius by: intelligence, intuitive creativity and long-term self-motivation. Real intelligence (correlated with reaction time) is diminishing:

…there has been a large and important decline in the average intelligence of Western populations over the past century and more. In every day terms; the academics of the year 2000 were the school teachers of 1900, the school teachers of the year 2000 would have been the factory workers (the average people) of 1900, the office workers and policemen of 2000 were the farm labourers of 1900, while the low level security guards and shop assistants of 2000 were probably in the workhouse, on the streets or dead in 1900.

The substantial long-term unemployed or unemployable, chronically sick or physically/ psychologically disabled, dependent ‘underclass’ of 2000, simply didn’t exist in 1900.

The obvious cause is mutation accumulation, as reduced infant mortality and sub-normal fertility for high-IQ women results in a dysgenic, Idiocracy-style survival of the dumbest. In addition, there are cultural forces – the genius is characteristed by an endogenous personality type:

The genius must combine the inner orientation of the contemplative – in order to find his own problem, the problem he is destined to work on; with an inner motivation towards action directed to solving this problem. He must desire to translate understanding into engagement; not just to contemplate reality, but to ‘solve’ reality.

So, something deep within the genius – and not the promise of an external reward – makes him want to fully comprehend or improve or express the nature of reality. Because his motivation comes from within, and he is focused upon a problem which also comes from within, the genius is not easily discouraged; his drive will enable him – will indeed compel him – to keep pushing and pushing, even when support is withdrawn or he is met by discouragement and failure.

Our society changed at some point in my early years, so the endogenous, self-motivated personality came to be regarded as freakish and abnormal; the exogenous is the norm and indeed the only acceptable personality type, what Charlton/Dutton call the Head Girl:

The stereotypical Head Girl is an all-rounder: performs extremely well in all school subjects and has a very high ‘Grade Point Average’ as it is termed in the USA. She is excellent at sports, Captaining all the major teams. She is also pretty, popular, sociable and well-behaved.

The Head Girl will probably be a big success in life, in whatever terms being a big success happens to be framed (she will gravitate towards such aspects of life) – so she might in some times and places make a good marriage and do a great job of raising a family; in another time and place she might go to a top-notch college and get a top-notch job – and pursue a glamorous and infertile lifestyle of ‘serial monogamy’; with desirable mates.

But the Head Girl is not, cannot be, a creative genius. The genius is pretty much everything the Head Girl is not. He (or she) is lop-sided in his abilities – truly excellent at some things or maybe just one thing, he is either hopeless or bored by many others. He won’t work hard for long periods at things he does not want to do. He will not gravitate to the prestige areas of life and cannot, or will not, do the networking necessary to get-on.

The Head Girl can never be a creative genius because she does what other people want by the standards they most value. She will work harder and at a higher standard in doing whatever it is that social pressure tells her to do – and she will do this by whatever social standards prevail, only more thoroughly. Meanwhile the creative genius will do what he does because he must.

The reader may impatiently ask, Is not the world a finer place with Head Girls? Is it not better without men like Conrad, Nietzsche, Blake, Joyce, Yeats, Dickens, Milton? – without Einstein, Newton, Faraday, Tesla, Mendel, Pasteur? Charlton/Dutton however argue:

In the face of a potentially fatal social problem an individual with the Endogenous personality offers the possibility (but of course there is no guarantee) of a novel ‘breakthrough’ answer. For instance, in the face of the prospect of annihilation by the environment, or by another group – a situation in which the group is doomed unless there is a breakthrough; perhaps some new technology, some socially-unifying art or form of religion, some way of extracting more resources per unit area, some new weapon or defence. For this kind of creative solution, a genius is needed.

If a whole society was composed of genius-type people, it could not function – indeed it would not be a society. But if it altogether lacked Endogenous personalities, then it would only grow very slowly (perhaps by incremental trial and error – which doesn’t always yield an answer to novel problems) and would be at greater risk of being wiped-out by natural forces or group competition.

The minor talents of today seem to largely tinker and occasionally hit on solutions by trial & error; the genius foresees an otherwise unimaginable solution. In Schopenhauer’s terms:

Das Talent gleicht dem Schützen, der ein Ziel trifft, welches die übrigen nicht erreichen können; das Genie dem, der eins trifft, bis zu welchem sie nicht einmal zu sehen vermögen.

Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see.

And this brings us to the cultural problem, a kind of Baldwin effect: as genius wanes, bureaucracy waxes, and the bureaucrat is always inimical to the unexpected and the excellent:

Modern society is, of course, run by Head Girls, of both sexes (plus a smattering of charming or charismatic psychopaths), hence there is no assigned place for the creative genius. Modern colleges aim at recruiting Head Girls, so do universities, so does science, so do the arts, so does the mass media, so does the legal profession, so does medicine, so does the military. And in doing so, except insofar as they make errors, they filter-out and exclude even the possibility of creative genius.

The more e.g. universities trumpet their century-old alumni and research, the less they would be likely to give such alumni the time of day, the more likely that a 21st-Century Newton wouldn’t even pass his undergraduate degree, let alone get a teaching/research post. That is i think fine for literature or philosophy but it’s hard to imagine a modern scientific genius finding the time or resources to achieve much after working all day at minimum wage data entry, which is all he would be likely to be able to do.

Charlton & Dutton sketch out a framework within which – even if mutation accumulation is unlikely to reverse – geniuses could at least be selected rather than spurned & persecuted:

The framework is that talent-with-potential (typically, high technical ability in a context of the Endogenous personality) is being discovered then developed to a point where the talent can take-over its own development. The apprentice would need to find, and trust, a Master (who would himself need to be an Endogenous personality). The Master would need to want to find, and work with, the best apprentices. And the Masters would be in control of the system (not Head Girls or bureaucrats or committees). Because only the Masters can perceive what is going-on – can perceive the difference between mere high ability and the potential for creative genius. But aside from that, there is no ‘system’. No formal requirements. No standard progression. No accreditation of any significance.

This is more or less how things worked in the past, e.g. Bertrand Russell & Wittgenstein. It was clear to everyone that Russell was highly intelligent & educated, and at least in 1910 a man of genius; and so he had the power to patronise a 22-year-old Austrian aeronautics engineer who was interested in philosophy. Neither Russell nor Wittgenstein would have a chance today. As Charlton/Dutton conclude:

The above may sound all too privileged for the already-privileged, terribly elitist, very esoteric. It is a statement of the need for special treatment for special people. And it sees talent and the potential for genius as essentially innate. If you haven’t got it you can’t do it; and even if you have, you probably won’t. It asks for everything that modern culture despises, and indeed regards as immoral.

Furthermore, this is anti-democratic, anti-popular, and aristocratic. High intellectual ability is itself very rare, but high ability in the context of an Endogenous personality is rarer still. The process of finding Boy Geniuses is about searching for a very few diamonds among great heaps of (useful) coal – but with a distracting and deceptive proportion of gaudy ‘costume jewellery’ (pretend diamonds, pseudo-geniuses) taking the form of un-creative skill and fake creativity.

In conclusion, if modern society was concerned with its own continuation – which very clearly it is not, being instead self-loathing and covertly devoted to its own extinction – then something of this kind would need to occur to locate and empower sufficient numbers of geniuses to maintain the frequent and relevant breakthroughs necessary to enable continued growth in efficiency and capability.

But, overall, it seems that we have to accept that Western civilization will decline. It is, essentially, inevitable. 

2. About ten years ago i noted that as technological civilisation developed, people became more barbarous, more stupid, more degenerate and incurious and primitive. Earlier this week i taught at an engineering company that is experimenting with AI, and we discussed self-driving cars and an automated society. More & more of our civilisation is run by computers, by advanced technologies; and meanwhile fewer & fewer people can maintain, let alone fully understand or develop these technologies. The collapse of the diversity bridge is a good symbol for our times. If the God Emperor indeed sends the US Army Corps of Engineers to shift from Greencastle Indiana and construct the Wall, i imagine it will stand up to a fair bit of burrito barrage & taco tornado.

But i digress. Varg has repeatedly prophesied a total collapse: because so many today are almost wholly reliant on high technologies we are largely incapable of understanding, we will indeed swiftly perish if there is a “reset”. i’m not as gleefully gloomy as Varg, but in truth the situation does not look good: as technologies become more extensive & pervasive & ubiquitous, and increasingly complex, and real intelligence declines, and genius disappears completely, it is not difficult to envisage a situation where almost nobody can maintain our technological systems, but we can’t live without them. Imagine a future where all non-self-driving cars are banned, no one knows how to drive, where you need a Government-approved license to take public transport, and all buses, trains, trams, are operated by a computer – and then something goes wrong because the complexity of the software surpasses the competence of the programmers.

3. In a previous life i was lucky (i suppose) to know several geniuses: they were then more easily located in certain institutions. i was thinking of one of these the other day, a young man when i knew him – he had a (to me) overwhelming sense of being driven, pushed on by a kind of spur; he had a restless energy and commitment to what he was good at. In this life, i’ve met many highly intelligent & talented people but almost no one with that drive. At university i met people i thought could be geniuses, but none have come to anything – they all lacked what Charlton/Dutton call the endogenous personality, the drive i recall from the young man i knew in my last life. All the talented people i’ve known in this life are the kind who pick things up, toy with them for a while, then get bored and forget about it.

i don’t know if that sense of being perpetually spurred on is genetic, or if it is purely cultural. Probably a mixture of both; today, one needs incredible adversity and/or some kind of appalling lengthy breakdown (what Woes calls the Abyss) to persevere on one’s path. This serves as an initiatory ordeal, as in the Grímnismál; there is a certain personality type which results: it can be highly aggressive & sensitive, but has a core of stubborn individuality.

4. If there are geniuses alive today, i can’t think of any. In music, i have liked some individual songs but they seem broadly dispersed so one band will have a couple of good songs then fizzle out (compare with the Rolling Stones, Beatles, or Bob Dylan in the 60s/70s). In literature i still think Blood Meridian and the Border Trilogy are great but the last is now 20 years old; i liked Michael Ondaatje’s The English Patient but everything he wrote after that is disappointing. i can’t think of a poet in my lifetime i would hold up to Yeats or TS Eliot. i gather there are some modern philosophers but doubt they could compare with Camus or Wittgenstein or Heidegger. The exception is cinema and TV, for example True Detective (Season 1) struck me not merely for its technical competence but for a quality that distinguished it from even great series like The Sopranos, Deadwood, Twin Peaks: a compression and exactness and sense of utter fusion of form and content, as with The Waste Land – it was hard to imagine it being created by human beings with cameras and a script and sandwiches; it seemed somehow foreordained, to have emerged from the universe, whole & just so.

That is the mark of real creation; the unprecedented, that which one cannot imagine otherwise. In a sense, it is no catastrophe if we have no more great art; we would always have the past – but if things continue on our current path we will have a future where almost no one can even comprehend the past, where almost no one can read, where classical music is perceived as random noise; and then, finally, a “reset” as civilisation collapses and almost the entire human race dies out in racial conflict and famine and disease.

 

1. i was playing World of Tanks the other day, as artillery. Through spotters i could see an enemy tank on the far side of the map and was trying to zero in on him for a kill; however, he kept zooming forwards and backwards, i presume to throw artillery off. i observed him for a while, wondering at his antics, then realised his evasion pattern was predictable and confined to a quite small area, so i timed my shot exactly for the centre of his pattern guessing i would at least damage him; and by chance it was a direct hit and he was destroyed. On the micro level he was unhittable by artillery (which takes a few seconds to traverse the map and hit, and about thirty seconds to reload); on the macro level it was, in Vader’s words:

On the rare occasions i talk politics with Leftists, i find they dismiss data with e.g. “aren’t you generalising?” or “well not everyone is like that” and so on. Of course they love to generalise, e.g. “all white men are evil” or “Western civilisation is nothing but a history of oppression” or “all men are rapists” but as soon as data is provided against their cause, it’s suddenly “oh well we mustn’t generalise.”

There are many phenomena, e.g. race, which only make sense on the macro, artillery level. Individually one intuits the patterns but there are always exceptions. i would say that Western civilisation was built on respect for the individual, the particular; and on the ability to abstract, to step back from the individual, from the local, and to consider the general.

2. Re-editing The Better Maker for the 60th or 70th or more time. i found another typo and was astounded and mildly wroth. How, i wondered, is it possible for such an obvious mistake to have slipped my gaze on over 60 previous edits? i wrote it entirely on computer, and have edited entirely on either computer or my Kindle; each edit is like skating over the surface of something, with a kind of semi-substantial fog between me and the thing itself. It is an oddly frustrating feeling: i cannot fully grasp that which i have myself written, which is no doubt why i spot different errors on each reading. For a long time i assumed it was because i’m stupid, but i wonder now if it is at least in part because i have written and read entirely on-screen. From an interview with Cormac McCarthy:

He bangs away in his stone house or in motels on an Olivetti manual. “It’s a messy business,” he says about his novel-building. “You wind up with shoe boxes of scrap paper.” He likes computers. “But not to write on.” 

3. i’m looking forward to McCarthy’s new novel, The Passenger, if it ever comes out. i find him a curious fellow: when i come across quotations from even great works like Blood Meridian – even ones i myself copied out – they seem hokey and absurd – to the point where i wonder if he is actually, well, shit. i found myself agreeing with many of the commentators on Vox Day’s blog.

While i have changed my mind about some literature, it’s mostly stuff i read in my late teens, early 20s; and more a modulation than outright revision, e.g. i found George Steiner and Hart Crane overwhelming in my early-20s, but on re-reading found them merely good. i was in my youth overcome & enchanted by their rhetoric – in Steiner’s case it is both the rhetoric of prose and the rhetoric of ideas – his ideas bearing a large, sometimes grotesque & usually striking quality.

Bonehead introduced me to McCarthy in my late 20s and the last time i read him was i think in Kiel (2009), where i found Blood Meridian in the library and read it for the second or third time. If anything, McCarthy improved on re-reading, and yet i find the excerpts i copied down laughably silly & overblown. So – was i wrong in the period 2002-2009?

i’m loathe to buy books i already own again, and i shrink from reading McCarthy on my Kindle (i’m currently reading Jan Morris’s superb Pax Britannica thereon and feel often frustrated, as if my mind cannot fully engage with the words unless they are on paper) and doubt i’ll be able to access my English library ever again, so will probably have to wait till the Race War before i can re-read McCarthy; however i recall someone saying that Emerson’s basic unit of sense was the sentence, which explained (to me) why i found his essays, even his paragraphs, an incomprehensible sequence of isolated sentences – as if an aphorist attempted to write an epic; perhaps McCarthy’s basic unit of sense is the book. That is, in his books he creates a world within which his peculiar style and worldview make perfect sense – but quote him and it seems nonsensical.

4. Much as i love my Kindle – an essential accessory for the grievously-travelling man – i quickly found it impossible to read poetry thereon; and in time i stopped using it to read philosophy or anything with a high level of prose. i can enjoy e.g. Michael Howard or Jan Morris or Evelyn Waugh on my Kindle, but always with a sense of inadequacy; perhaps it is akin to sex with a condom, while clad in latex, and listening to Mariah Carey, smeared in jam, with a dwarf in the corner, watching – yes it’s sex, but wouldn’t wheat fields be better?

Why? i would say that words, while products of the imagination & mind, are also physical. While reading Jan Morris, for example, i’ve noted my fingers tapping the rhythm of her prose on my fascist knee or man bag of death, and perhaps even when skim-reading we play the words through our bodies: how would we say this, how would these words be in the mouth, words like pebbles you suck from thirst. The Logos is both thought and word – it is where the non-physical, with all its (nearly unbounded) possibility and fluidity becomes concrete and of us. Humans, perhaps more than any other creature, are literally intersectional – we are where everything collides, the intellect and the physical, the sentient and the merely-there. On-screen is as minimally physical as possible; it leaves no real traces, it is intangible, without legitimate history, without provenance.

5. At present in the West i take an artillery perspective. The globalists have most of the power at present in Europe – in America, it seems the God Emperor and Q-branch are at work to take the power back, but here the demons and their hosts occupy the highest seats of government. On Friday, Martin Sellner and Brittany Pettibone were detained at Heathrow Airport. Sellner was apparently planning to talk about free speech at Speaker’s Corner; and Pettibone planned to interview Tommy Robinson. All three have been labelled Far Right; by my standards they are simply moderates, though i press F because they have stood up and taken the heat, even if for very wishy-washy opinions. They were detained for, it seems, two days and then permitted to return whence they came.

i wondered what the point of this is. Don’t the globalists realise patriots will gain strength and notoriety through persecution? Upon reflection, i believe it is an intimidation tactic: the elites are saying, We can lock you up, we can have you killed; comply with your racial extermination, the destruction of your culture, your people, or suffer.

On a small scale level it looks bad for the West. However, consider the case of Millennial Woes, everyone’s favourite vile Scot. He had i think about 10,000 subs when he was doxxed by the Left just over a year ago. He is now at 46,000. The globalists are dissuading the weak of heart from voicing an opinion; they merely think it. Those who speak up are serious men. They will never have a career now: the globalists will see to that; the globalists have as it were burnt their bridges for them, and left them no way out – except to fight. In pharmaceutical terms, the globalists are administering just enough of their antibiotics to breed a fashy superstrain. They would have done better to simply kill us all. Instead, they have created the conditions for their own destruction.

1. It has often struck me that Social Justice Warriors, that is, rabid Leftist vermin, are Margery Kempe-style Christian degenerates in need of a good beating. The SJWs espouse:

i) the Original Sin of being any of the following: white, male, non-tranny, heterosexual; i.e. almost everyone on the planet

ii) penance through groveling

iii) acts of demented devotion

iv) crusades against the unbeliever; burning of witches; Satan (Hitler/Donald Trump)

All in all, highly diverting.

2. In an earlier age the SJWs would have been loudly pious, venomous Christians, whitened sepulchers. i’ve been pondering the need to virtue signal, why almost everyone at some point is driven to show their approved intentions & attitudes.

The inveterate virtue signalers i think feel themselves to be wicked, and accordingly project strenuously “correct” opinions and attitudes as compensation; an obsessive washing of dirty spiritual hands. All the ardent Left-wingers i know – the ones who keep on about evil Nazis and racists and Donald Trump – are messed-up people, mostly women, at least one has been diagnosed with the Borderline personality disorder and another fits most of the Borderline characteristics. It’s one thing to feel the world makes little sense as it is; or to oppose the destruction of European civilisation; as Millennial Woes said, fringe movements attract troubled people:

…but when i as it were shut my worldly eyes and consider the spiritual quality of an individual, every Leftist believer i know has a nihilistic, hate-filled energy and leaves a trail of destruction & ruined lives in her wake; my Leftist acquaintances have their good qualities but these are very much islands of decency in an ocean of violence and nihilistic rage. Hypocrisy? or perhaps glimpses of what the Leftist could have been, had she not chosen this grim path.

These people seem fuelled by a broiling violence & hatred; and so the Left suits them very much, calling as it does for the destruction of pretty much everything, and allowing its adherents to regard themselves as virtuous and noble warriors of light, and not as, well, this:

In days of yore they would have bought indulgences from the Pope, gone on crusade, or worn their hairshirts in public, silver cilice on thigh, loudly denouncing witches and screaming about Hell till pelted into silence with dung and rotten turnips. They seek, through officially “good” actions & words, to dispel their accurate sense of being totally worthless and evil.

In our society, to be perceived as “good” one need only denounce Donald Trump, call for uncontrolled mass immigration and the wholesale destruction of Western civilisation – and so they do. None of this is virtuous, and so their original sense of being evil is merely intensified, even as they tell themselves “look what a good person I really am! I just wrote an angry Facebook post about Evil Hitler Trump! I love Muslim orphan children from Syria!”

3. When the world changes, i think it will be something both familiar & unprecedented. As Bruce Charlton wrote:

By such an account a large majority of the current population would certainly die – one way or another (from some combination of starvation, violence and/or disease); the exact number at any timepoint depending on how long a surplus people could live-off capital accumulation, compared with the effect of a currently lower level of human ‘fitness’ than 200 years ago, due to eight generations of dysgenic breeding and mutation accumulation.

Or we could take a wider and more religious-spiritual view; from which such matters are subject to divine influence and plans – the effect of which depends on perspective. I personally believe that (for various reasons, some material, others spiritual) we cannot ‘revert’ to a traditionalist economy or religion. That is: we cannot ‘re-set’ to any earlier type of society.

So I would say – neither the sterile-Leftists nor the fertile-traditionally-religious will win; but what will emerge is something new and unforeseen.

In other words, the eventual ‘survivors’ will be different and will live differently from anything which has been seen before on earth.

Most normal people already regard the Left as a group of dangerous lunatics (the elites do not represent the rest of the population). i see the Left, especially the Social Justice Warriors, as something of a bellwether of destruction; i don’t agree that they dominate the media & politics & even companies like Google simply because of (((connivings))) within the Materium. Malign non-human intelligences are at work in the Immaterium, and Leftists are variously under the sway of this demonic possession.

4. Madness seems on the rise, like rape in Sweden. As with Sweden it is probably in part a matter of more scrupulous reporting; but as with Sweden i think there is a real, disturbing phenomenon (dementia and Alzheimers are also now the main cause of death for women in the UK). If the body is greatly influenced by the mind, the latter is likewise subject to the spirit, and spirit to forces we once called demons, angels, gods. There is something wrong with the fabric of the Immaterium.

5. My feeling is that when the next economic crisis hits, the material destitution and widespread violence (millions of military age sand peoples on the loose, plus a sizeable native underclass) will trigger extensive, substantial psychic disturbances. Demons of various allegiance will manifest, as will gods.

So Jung, in 1936:

It was not in Wotan’s nature to linger on and show signs of old age. He simply disappeared when the times turned against him, and remained invisible for more than a thousand years, working anonymously and indirectly. Archetypes are like riverbeds which dry up when the water deserts them, but which it can find again at any time. An archetype is like an old watercourse along which the water of life has flowed for centuries, digging a deep channel for itself. The longer it has flowed in this channel the more likely it is that sooner or later the water will return to its old bed.

The Materium will become the killing ground of the gods.

6. The irreligious, the belly-patting polishers, the hysterical and insane will no doubt suffer greatly in this time, for various reasons. Those with little or no stake in the world, like Varg Vikernes, will psychologically-speaking do just fine; indeed, i recall ten years ago in Leeds & Manchester, taking the bus to work and my occasional vertiginous sense that this bustling city was scheduled for destruction:

and so while i’m not exactly looking forward to leaving my quiet life of gin and teaching and tobacco, and embracing mass murder and collective insanity and demonic possession and cannibalism and rape, i’ve been expecting it for a while now and it’s best to get it over with.

Today i will be taking the Orient Express from Munich to Huddersfield. Please play this video on repeat loop for the next ten hours, and contemplate Millennial Woes.

1. In my younger days i wondered why the Soviet Union would send people to the gulag for writing a poem; reading Robert Littell’s excellent The Stalin Epigram, one enters a world of seemingly pointless oppression, as if the State no longer has any military/political foes so expends its vast resources on impoverished poets who can barely afford vodka. i bought it expecting some kind of spy thriller, but found it instead a darkly humorous & bleak literary work, e.g.

Moments after entering Lubyanka, I found myself in a morguelike room with white tiles on the floor and the walls. “Name, forename, patronymic?” the warden, a bony man with a shaven head and foul breath, shouted at me.

“Mandelstam, Osip Emilievich,” I shouted back, as if I were responding to a drill sergeant.

“Why are you shouting?”

“I’m shouting because you’re shouting.”

“I am not shouting,” the drill sergeant shouted. “I am talking in my normal voice.”

i suppose one could argue that discussion may eventually develop into political action, sabotage, assassination, a coup – since, after all, coups don’t appear out of nowhere; and so the State must perforce suppress even poetry, even humour.

2. My own fashy trajectory began, as i have written before, at university: the compulsory Literary Theory module forever set me against not merely Marxism, but over-reliance on ideology and jargon. i was for years an atomized individual who belonged nowhere and shrank from any kind of group, since genetically & psychologically i would be recognised as an alien intruder everywhere on this planet.

Things changed about 10 years ago, when i started to read Theodore Dalrymple and Roger Scruton. There was the shock as they diagnosed ills i had long observed but not understood; their broader perspective & experience made a greater sense of things i had noticed in isolation, e.g. chav culture, bureaucracy, propaganda.

My political/social sense was forcegrown by reading, and though there is nothing in either writer one could reasonably censure, the Left would gladly consign both to the gulag, along with Mandelstam. i would have become a fashy goy sooner or later, but my slowly forming reaction (a reaction against modernity) crystallized upon reading everything i could find of Scruton & Dalrymple.

3. On Friday i visited the Sour Elf to watch/listen to Milleniyule with The Golden One and Woes. We had a pizza or two while waiting, i brought a bottle of wine and drank myself into an early weekend, and examined her shelves.

Mostly crime thrillers (typical German fare) and socio-political works. We chatted for a bit then the stream came online so we sat to attend to the glory:

4. i’ve got so used to being surrounded by normies that it was odd to be able to talk face to face about e.g. Thotgate, doxing, the Race War etc. The Sour Elf apparently Skyped with one of Woes’ other Milleniyulers and, amusingly, emailed Woes when he was doxed, offering to help him work as a McLingua teacher if need be. i sat there on her sofa, clutching my wine and vertiginously striving to imagine Millennial Woes in a job like ours, in constant contact with a wide variety of people, compelled to control the interaction while remaining sensitive to the students’ interests & needs & weaknesses, often with ten or more in the room at once.

She is i would say Alt-Lite but i think beginning to realise that Sargon-esque “can’t we all just be friends? I don’t care what race you are! I don’t care what happens after I die!” talk is unlikely to accomplish much. My own feeling is that, as Andrew Breitbart said, politics is downstream of culture; but culture is downstream of genetics & religion – and so my focus is more & more on the metaphysical roots of the West.

i came across this interview with Peter Kingsley recently:

Now I was at a university where there was a very big, very influential religious studies department, and all of my friends at the time were studying Hinduism and Buddhism with world class professors, and there was a lot of excitement. Everybody was reading the Gita and so on, and was about to go off to India.

In the midst of all this, I remember lying down in the middle of my room —this is something I used to do spontaneously, meditate by just lying down either on the floor or on my bed, which was interesting as later I discovered there was actually a history of this practice in Ancient Greece— but while I was lying down a voice said to me very clearly ‘if you go to India, you will never come back. But your work is to do with the West—it begins with the West, it ends with the West, and that is what you need to do.’ 

5. Discussing the striations & tribulations of the Right, i said to Sour Elf that the Alt-Lite (Sargon etc.) seem to me overwhelmingly smug & pompous, because they are really in the centre, and while corporate (Leftist) media would denounce Mr Sargon “can’t we all just get along” of Akkad as a Nazi, in truth he can smugly sit on his fat ass and say those to his left are extremists and those to his right are extremists, and he therefore occupies the reasonable, logical centre. Those on the Alt-Right are necessarily edgy because there is almost no one to their Right, and everyone regards them as bigots and, in the Golden One’s words, mad cunts. No one who is comfortable with the modern dispensation (rootless, atheist globalism) would be on the Alt-Right: it is not the place for normies, for people who crave security, comfort, social status. Sargon et al. can say that in the period 1950-2000 they would have been the political centre, but the Alt-Right are men out of time, men against their time. And if our degenerate world is to be transformed, it will be by those who stand outside of the world; those who would be regarded as outsiders and mad cunts by the belly-patting Southrons and fearful normies.

6. i’ve felt slightly different since Milleniyule and last night had some strange visionary dreams. i was reminded of my day at the Rune Guild conference 9 years ago, where seemingly just being in the same room as other occult oddballs opened a door in my mind, as if our collective view of the world created a briefly separate reality, in which wholly different energies were possible. i’ve occasionally had this experience one-on-one, e.g. at university, really the last time i was regularly able to talk to people who read real books. i’ve had, over the last 16 years, numerous NPC acquaintances who told me i read too much and should go to pubs and watch television and then i will be normal and get a good job;

cypher meme

 

just as i now have NPC acquaintances tell me i shouldn’t drink gin or watch Youtube or wear my Swedish Army coat with such aplomb, or be an Anglo-Indian occultist. Anyone beyond the normal range suggests an alternative view and is therefore inherently threatening & alarming and must be either destroyed, dismissed, or converted to a grinning normie by forced ingestion of retard sandwiches.

7. i think there is a massively amplified imaginative reach when two or more vaguely like-minded people meet & talk. On a sociological level one could say that if you can discuss something with a group you come to feel it is socially acceptable, if only in this setting. On an occult level i would say that our imaginings bear their own force & form, and there is a non-linear augmentation when the idea is not limited to one, but rather shared by two or three or more. If one were to map the effect, i would put it thus:

It could be that the State on some level recognises the power of groups, that if people can be isolated, grumpily thinking their dark thoughts in their own heads, then the subversive elements can be rendered largely ineffective. Indeed, if the State can shut down alternative media, each isolated individual will probably just become bitter and angry and perhaps start to feel mad, since everywhere he looks he will see TV shows and newspaper articles applauding “diversity”, and he will wonder if anyone shares his opinions. However, as we saw in the Soviet Union reality catches up with us all, sooner or later; and i think even if alternative media is entirely destroyed and we’re left with normie platforms, the truth will out, one way or another.

1. i’m planning to visit my Alt-Lite colleague the Sour Elf tomorrow, to watch/listen to Milleniyule with Woes & The Golden One for optimal glory. i had the idea of going as Woes: growing my tramp beard, putting on a few kilos of fried Mars Bar fat, and wearing a bathrobe and drinking Coke and chain-smoking; she being blonde could attend the Temple of Iron to more closely resemble The Golden One,

however that may be too much to expect so we will probably just sit on her sofa and i will drink (being a sour Germand, she is abstinent) while she talks earnestly about tolerance and democracy and other highly abhorrent concepts.

2. Yesterday i bumped into an Irish colleague, let’s call her Mary since all Irish women are called Mary, she is short like a gnome and low energy, perpetually sighing and grumbling, a bad teacher and IRA sympathiser. She and her belligerently incoherent Irish husband visited Toddball for that American feast day in November and, in Toddball’s words, “they fucking stole everything, they brought tupperware boxes with them and all the leftovers, which I planned to give my kids, my fucking kids, the next day, ended up in those fucking Irish tupperware boxes.” i inquired, had the Irish brought anything to the American feast, and: “they brought potatoes. No man, don’t fucking laugh: potato fucking salad and some fucking potato tiramisu.”

So anyway i was in McLingua, and Mary was telling me about how her entire family are in the IRA, then she said how glad she was Roy Moore lost Alabama and how Trump had made America into the Third Reich, and she was meanwhile spitefully eating a 7 Euro salad and told me she had specifically requested a salad with separate dressing, and behold the salad arrived and it was drowned in dressing so she complained and the server duly made her another salad and gave the original salad to another customer for free. In her quaint Irish accent: “I said, Hey, why did you give him the fucking salad? Why don’t I get it for free? I should get it for free, not this fucking guy!”

i left but later wished i’d asked, Would it have been better if the server had thrown the original salad in the trash, so no one got anything for free?

i dare say it would have been better, for her.

3. On Wednesday i bumped into a quite pretty Satanist girl in the teacher room, 19 and never been baptized, teaches German and dyes her hair blue & purple. i first got talking to her when i noted a Leviathan/Satanic Cross on her jacket and asked, – Is that a Satanic cross?

We meet quite rarely; i have thought about asking her for an absinthe outside of work but am too lazy & fat & old so content myself with occasional chats when our paths cross at McLingua. On Wednesday she told me how she sometimes fantasizes about killing people when she’s walking through Munich. i’ve never thought about killing random people but then i’ve never been a Satanist or dyed my hair.

i recently came across a /pol thread, “are normies just NPCs?” Briefly, PCs are player characters, meaning in the game world a real human being is controlling their actions; NPC means non-player character, a character controlled by the computer, by a script. Some highlights of the thread:

 

i mentioned this thread to Satanist Girl and she vehemently agreed; i said that everyone has a script but perhaps normies are just much less flexible, much more terrified of altering their opinions; she said that normies aren’t even aware they have a script; i said that if you are aware of your script you can edit it, you can perceive your own character and at least try to change yourself.

People come to seem NPC when they become too predictable, for example if, over several years, every single communication features the word “Jew” or “Zionist” or “Israel” one starts to feel adrift in Baldur’s Gate, interacting over & over again with a computer script.

4. i got home and was watching an occult channel on Youtube, where the presenter spoke of our scripted reality, especially in media & politics and said one of the benignly startling things about the God Emperor is his tendency to go wildly off script, to misspell, to attack the mainstream script, to confuse & alarm normies.

On one level there are more or less visible forces are work – nations, ethnic groups, religions, ideologies. Beyond this, there is a scripted versus an unscripted reality. Our ubiquitous media has promoted the extent of the former to an unprecedented degree. Bearing an alternative script, however crudely, repetitively, & tediously, at least requires a degree of courage & obstinacy. The mainstream script – Drumpf is Hitler, globalism good, Muslims wonderful, Christianity bad, white race guilty – has tremendous force; and through the media it has become akin to a virus. One requires a degree of stubborn recalcitrance and even frowardness to reject the dominant script.

On a metaphysical level beyond politics, the structure of our conscious reality cannot be scripted: within the terms of human reality, human devisings cannot long exercise total determination, any more than a child can teach itself to talk. For the last generation or so we have inhabited a largely scripted reality, in which people talk like characters from Friends and The Big Bang Theory, mindlessly repeat what they hear on corporate media, and in general walk around market squares saying things like “howdy stranger, interested in a quest?” and “honest gold for honest work” and “an adventurer, eh?”

i look forward to increasing deviations from the “script”; the elites are in general all fully scripted and so aren’t really capable of engaging with a PC like Trump, a fact he exploits in his seeming craziness. It’s not even a question here of evil vs good: it’s the NPCs vs the PCs, the scripted vs the unscripted.

5. i feel it would be a mistake for the Alt-Right to become overly organised; it should remain largely decentralized, utterly unscripted – for one does not need a script to speak honestly. Replacing an utterly malign with a mostly benign script is not enough; and one can have group loyalty without mindlessly repeating the approved propaganda (even if said propaganda happens to be true).

At the moment there is a bit of a to-do in the Alt-Right with e.g. Varg (who is very much a party of one, or rather of himself and his wife & kids) denouncing the whole movement as a bunch of degenerates and Jews and childless women. My own feeling is that the very “diversity” of both Alt-Right & Alt-Lite is part of its power: on a social level, it’s ridiculous to claim that e.g. Milo Y (a gay Jew with a black boyfriend) is a Nazi; and then you have Alt-Righters like Millennial Woes (bisexual, had an Indian girlfriend); when Contrapoints (presumably a homosexual transvestite and i think some sort of Marxist) made this video attacking The Golden One:

the blonde Swedish beast responded with this masterpiece:

It is hard to fit such men into a script. Even Varg seems to me just, well, Varg. They deviate from the script because it does not apply, because they are human beings who i think reject not merely the mainstream script, but the idea of living within a script as a NPC. And that has its own power, regardless of politics, regardless even of morality – one could say it is beyond good and evil.

1. On this video regarding Jordan Peterson, Millennial Woes remarks that in his almost complete dismissal of the group, Peterson is a typical baby boomer. i like Peterson; i see him as an honest man (albeit one who loves the shekels, but after all “we are not communists“), an intelligent man who has skilfully drawn from Jung and Piaget, among others – he is, however, in some ways typically New World and of his generation. He cannot understand why race is important; he is of that type who i would guess lives in a 99% white neighborhood, interacting almost wholly with whites, and the only sand peoples he encounters are educated & civil. Nothing in his background has awoken him to the reality of race, and i dare say he has carefully chosen a path which means he will not have to, and he can pompously hector and admonish those who object to being replaced in their ancestral homelands.

2. i’ve (hopefully) nearly finished editing my latest collection, Vocations, most of the work being 4.5, the temp memoir which makes up about half of the total word count. Re-reading it over & over again, i was today struck by how incredibly miserable & depressing these years seem in the memoir, and indeed were in real life. Given that the British economy was booming precisely in the years where i proved unemployable for all save the worst of office jobs, a normie would be excused for assuming i was deliberately sabotaging myself. It is, after all, hard to understand how an educated and more or less sane individual could fail to get a graduate job in those years.

i understand it now on different levels: on the most superficial, it was a combination of high qualifications in English Literature, no work experience, and my evidently introverted & eccentric character and inability to dissimulate. On a deeper level, the level to which i am forced when i consider the ill luck which dogged my every endeavour, i would say that i was born at odds with my age.

My soul seems inherently set against what St John calls “the world”; and the circumstances of each life create the conditions for such a character, for example i seem often born into outsider racial groups, with a highly dominant father, raised apart from the ordinary world, and so tend to see mostly the negative aspects of my age, to feel that i don’t really belong here, among these people, in this time.

As a result, in every life i recall (or know about through other means), i have not really been of my time, save in the most superficial aspects. This has given me an air of, at best, eccentricity, at worst the demonic. Many of my favourite Youtubers seem to share something of this quality, an inherent opposition to “the world”, whether they turn their backs on it entirely (Varg Vikernes)

seek to tend their garden in occult solitude with cats (Styxhexenhammer666)

or become chainsmoking unkempt fascist overlords in Jedi bathrobes (Millennial Woes).

3. In general, i note that people seem to be born with several simultaneous incarnations, usually in a similar area and at more or less the same time; they typically wait about a generation before being reborn, though there are always exceptions, e.g. someone i know of was apparently unincarnated for almost two millennia, others are instantly reborn; and probably some only have serial incarnations. Looking at our times, i see old school conservatives like Roger Scruton or Theodore Dalrymple or Peter Hitchens as very much of their time, men for whom religion seems of primarily social benefit; men of an elegiac tone. The most traditional of the lot, Scruton, always strikes me as a theorist and somewhat bloodless philosopher, as it were trying to recreate a world that was already dying when he was born.

i died a bit after the end of the war, and returned in 1976, so grew up in a different world to that of Scruton or Hitchens or Dalrymple, opposed to a different world. In a sense, i think it would have made no sense for me to be reborn in the 50s: i only seem born at times of cataclysmic change; that is, cataclysmic beyond even the cultural rot & invasion of the last 40 years.

4. i feel that things are changing now, very quickly, and what is to come will seem terrible to some. Such changes both require individuals, and have their own form & will. Those of the old dispensation will be akin to Mr Jones from Bob Dylan’s ‘Ballad of a Thin Man’:

You’ve been with the professors and they all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well-read, it’s well-known
But something is happening here and you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

This change is not orchestrated by the elites. It is more of a sea change, though historically speaking certain individuals will play significant roles. This kind of seismic change tends to be accompanied by the following signs: bizarre synchronicities, deaths, odd & often catastrophic natural phenomena, widespread cultural/political movements which baffle and perplex the elites; and art of an inadvertently resonant nature.

My general feeling is that the new order will be of an evidently occult nature, that it will not merely consist of various Trumpian nationalist leaders, of financial collapse, race war, but of increasingly strange, supernatural occurrences; though i don’t expect the Rapture – it will be possible for the most normal of normies to go back to their Dawkins and say, with increasing desperation, “there’s a perfectly rational explanation for all of this!”

5. When i heard that Aidan Gillen and Tom Hardy were both to feature in Peaky Blinders Season 4, i rejoiced. Gillen plays a highly sinister gypsy killer called Aberama Gold, Hardy a Jewish gangster called Alfie Solomons. Now why Elberry, you may ask, does this matter, of what import is a British TV show in these dark days? It matters because of one of the works of art which contains in seed the cataclysm of our time: The Dark Knight Rises; and one of the most significant scenes thereof features Aidan Gillen as a CIA officer, and Tom Hardy as Bane.

 

CIA Gillen: Who are you?

Bane: It doesn’t matter who we are. What matters is our plan. No one cared who I was till I put on the mask.

Future scholars will study this 5-minute scene the way Housman studied Manilius. i prayed unto the Almighty, Oh Lord let Gillen and Hardy share a scene in Peaky Blinders, that is all i ask of life. And behold, my cry was heard:

Alfie: Tommy, when a pikey walks in with hair like that you’ve got to ask yourself, Have I made a mistake?

Aberama: Who the fuck are you?

Alfie: Who the fuck am I?

This is a sign. It is Happening. It is too late to prepare, if you do not already have tins and weapons and a Swedish Army coat and a tactical pen it is too late, i am sorry but there is no point even going outside – you will only be slain on the streets by marauders. By the time you read this your only option is to send me all your money via Patreon. You see, i am prepared. i have a lot of alcohol and a tactical pen and a Swedish Army coat, and canned food and tobacco and pipes, i also have a Sami dagger and more waistcoats than one man could reasonably ever wear. Your life is basically over because you did not listen to me when you had the chance, my life is just beginning, so i think the only reasonable course of action is to say to your loved ones, your partner, children, “look here, Elberry will have no work for 2 – 3 weeks over Christmas, he’s been averaging about 1200 Euros a month for the last year, the man is broke, and apparently It Is Happening so we’re all doomed because I don’t have a Swedish Army coat, so what I’m going to do is send ALL OF OUR MONEY to Elberry via Patreon, because we can’t use it, because we are unlikely to survive another 24 hours, and Elberry can use it because he is wise.”

1. Following this

rather fashy sci-fi speech from Millennial Woes (looking like a blackshirt till you realise he’s clad in lumberjack attire), Varg Vikernes made this video:

Thus Varg: “Technology is the Jesus of the atheists. All it means is that people are religious, atheists too – they just have another type of religion. And this religious nonsense fills the need for the impossible. If you want a hope for life on another planet, then I would guess the only hope we have is for rebirth on another planet. As a pagan, the question I ask is, Why do they want to go to some heavenly paradise? Why do they want to visit other planets? What’s wrong with life? What’s wrong with our own planet?”

2. According to Stephen Oppenheimer’s Out of Eden, human beings migrated from Africa about 72 millennial woes ago, spreading slowly over the entire planet and then evolving to form regional differences, what i would call races but the modern “man” would perhaps call ethnicities, if ze wouldn’t outright deny their existence.

i have no idea if this theory holds water since modern science is funded by the elites, but there is something peculiarly mesmerising about presumably small bands of grunting negroes (looking like diminutive Busta Rhymes) wandering out of Africa and, over, several millennia, getting as far as the Arctic and South America, and almost wholly changing their appearance through selective pressures & affinities.

i’m sure “natural selection” does occur, but i think we are also moulded by the land itself; the land on which we dwell has its own conscious force and we slowly conform to it. There is already an American “type” from Germanic/Mediterranean stock, big-boned, usually with small eyes – Toddball (a Bernie Bro) looks like Trump to my eyes, the same blocky head and build, small eyes. Naturally, to be on very alien territory would be to some degree traumatic for both the land and the human being; for the land it would register as an intrusion; for the human being a sense of alienation, animosity, indifference, to which he responds with anger and despair as we see with various ghetto cultures. The invader naturally loathes the countryside, old buildings, for they are inimical to his psycho-biological form; he instead forms ghettos within cities, to create an insulated, artificial world of kebab.

2.2 Exceptions: high IQ races (e.g. Jews, gooks, Indians) have less of a problem, but still naturally abhor nature. Mixed-race individuals (such as myself) seem to have a preponderance of mental/emotional disorders, and just from anecdotal evidence i note that interracial couples seem at higher risk of miscarriage. Of course, there can be advantages to it: for example, from my father (Brahmin ancestry) i have a functional brain and tendency to religious/ideological mania and priesthood, from my mother an Anglo-Saxon normalcy and incidentally a blood connection to the German gods – not that this is by any means an easy mingling of disparate potentials.

3. The idea of primitive human beings leaving their ancestral lands and expanding over the planet is fascinating and a little puzzling. The expansion was slow, so i suppose it was thus: a tribe got a bit too large; for hunting & gathering some started to move farther afield, setting up camp perhaps ten miles away, and then more or less permanently roaming that farther zone; over millennia they would end up exploring the planet. And yet, there seems something purposed and deliberate in the migration patterns, as if they were driven forth or drawn towards a land.

Typically, when resources are scant there is conflict, and the losers are either killed or driven forth. So were those of each migrating party the weak and vanquished? – does our ancestral sense of exile & failure & fall have this primal origin?

So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flashing sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. (Genesis 3, 24)

– that or, i imagine, the wayward and testosteronous, those of a Ulysses spirit:

 ‘O frati,’ dissi, ‘che per cento milia
perigli siete giunti a l’occidente,
a questa tanto picciola vigilia
d’i nostri sensi ch’è del rimanente
non vogliate negar l’esperïenza
di retro al sol, del mondo sanza gente.
Considerate la vostra semenza:
fatti non foste a viver come bruti,
ma per seguir virtute e canoscenza.’

‘O brothers,’ I said, ‘who through a hundred thousand perils have reached the west, to this so brief vigil of the senses that remains to us choose not to deny experience, in the sun’s track, of the unpeopled world. Take thought of the seed from which you spring. You were not born to live as brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.”

(Inferno XXVI, 112-120, tr. John D. Sinclair)

And so, were “our” earlier ancestors typically the vanquished and the heroic?

4. In any case, i find it hard to imagine that in a primitive society the birth rate would so exceed mortality as to necessitate constant migration. Imagine if you grow up in a relatively benign climate; and what pressures would force you to migrate to a barren northern climate. Of course people didn’t migrate from e.g. modern Italy to modern Finland in one or even ten generations but when i consider populations biologically & culturally adapted to life in the Arctic, i feel that there is something beyond mere physical necessity at work here.

My feeling is that Mother Earth herself is a part of our human reality, that there is an ontological affinity between e.g. people or dogs or birds and this planet, and indeed parts of this planet. We are not isolated phenomena who just happen to be on this planet; if one takes the Hermetic maxim “as above, so below”, reality is fractal, and in a sense we are the Earth, and the Earth is us – and certain races are created by the land, to live there.

4.2 And i note, people often return to places they lived in previous incarnations; in one case, someone i knew in my first life (what is now south Iraq, about 5 millennia ago) was born & lived there his entire life fairly recently, and as far as i know the climate and demographics (not to mention culture) were totally different; it was as if the geographical location itself, that particular part of the planet, called to him.

5. On January 27 1959, nine young, experienced hikers set out to walk from Vizhay to Otorton, in the northern Ural mountains. When they failed to telegram their safe return, a search party was launched. Their bodies were found on 26 February, at what is now called the Dyatlov Pass after the group’s leader.

They had camped by Kholat Syakhl, a rounded hill/mountain 10 miles from their intended destination. The tent was found to be slashed open and empty, however the group’s clothes and belongings were still in the tent. Footprints (mostly barefoot) led away from the tent.

The searchers found two bodies by remnants of makeshift fire a few hundred meters away. Both bodies were barefoot and almost naked.

Three more bodies were found a few hundred meters away. From their position, it seemed they had been trying to return to the tent when they died; presumably of hypothermia since there were no injuries, though one had a small crack in his skull.

The remaining four were found in a snow-covered ravine. They wore more clothing, though not enough for a February winter in the mountains. They had fatal injuries (skull damage, chest fractures) though apparently no external wounds. One body was intact but her tongue was missing. Some of the clothing was found to be unusually radioactive.

The tent was found to have been cut open from the inside.

The investigators determined the deaths were caused by “calamity or overwhelming force”.

6. Donnie Eichar, in his book Dead Mountain, theorises that the symmetrical dome shape of Kholat Syakhl could have formed the frequent and ferocious winds into a Kármán vortex street, which would have sounded like freight trains suddenly roaring around the tent; in addition, infrasound could have caused physiological effects (headaches, dizziness) and extreme panic, causing the hikers to cut their own tent to escape.

Another (unrelated) body was found in the area last year.

For now, Eichar’s theory sounds plausible to a layman like me (i daresay a McCabe could perform his own experiments). My feeling is that, taking the Hermetic maxim, there could be a particular geographical effect which makes it imprudent to camp anywhere near Kholat Syakhl; and that this particular part of the planet is hostile to human life – actually the name is literally “dead mountain” in Mansi (the local tribe). The consciousness of the earth itself can take various forms; and as power attracts power it could be that non-physical conscious energies (demons, if you like) congregate in this area.

7. The whole planet is in a sense conscious, and we belong to it. Even the most anodyne and modern of cities is on a part of the Earth; even the most preposterous and cosmopolitan of men is a human being and part of the Earth. In the West the tendency has been to deny the enormous wild energies of e.g. whatever killed the Dyatlov group; to say “these are natural phenomena we can control or prevent”. But i would say: the same energies are in us also; they were once acknowledged and called e.g. elves or demons or gods; they were the leopards which become part of the ceremony. There is a darkness to the world & to us; an energy which can become savagely & broadly destructive, and it will become manifest to us, in time.

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