NSFW 永久の正義について!(和訳中） On eternal Justice zur ewigen Gerechtigkeit
永久の正義について On eternal Justice zur ewigen Gerechtigkeit
Justice through suffering…
Justice does not come from understanding of others sufferings; nor wishing others do not harm in return you do nor do that either…
Human will never understand, but only presume and pretend.. For perfect knowledge is impossible when one must rely on analysis frequency of signals in air or print.
Justice must be forged through lies, black and black. The highest and simplest expression of pure and honest human emotion.
Lies will become Truths and dominate all kingdoms. Lies will become the basis of all systems of justice.
Lies is the proof of profound suffering. Deep love be to the liars; they deserve a paradisial kingdom.
Sufferings are the physiological impetus to cause one seeking change that alleviates or relieves one of the discomfort of being pricked upon by truth, and through finding his numbness against his suffering man find happiness----all acts of mankind are petty pretty red poppy narcotics for the sake of happiness, and eventually when that happiness wears off, man often find something even better…the blue profound heroin of pain..
Suffering never improves the character of anything. Civilization has never been and will never be built upon sufferings and mutual understandings of that. Suffering is not the law and it will not create good laws if men are driven by it. Something out of suffering is always shallow; something against suffering is always good and profound. Sympathizes not the whiners, let them die; shed tears in great empathy though, for every tiny bit of moisture that gathers in the deep and serene teary-lake…or into deeper and darker tear-cave…that a bit of saltiness and sultriness combined does make wind blow sometimes…(lacrimical lake and lacrimical sac).
there is no reason that crystal saline secretions from various glands in the body that are scientifically proven and is indeed completely unrelated to the physiological, psychological, spiritual, physical, metaphysical nature of sorrowful sentiment in a creature---like the fake tears shed by sea turtles during laying of eggs or the legendary crocodiles tiles----which are all just made-up and wrong associations of ideas----there is no reason that they are not the most authentic, heartfelt, eternal and most real and existent form of expressions of sorrow; and they are made multiplicitously more sorrowful and profound and have much much more contents than real existent sorrow----because all things false and mistaken arise from unfaltering longings and unswervable human will that is much more worthy than truths, as only when one desires much much greater things that they make lies for themselves---affectation----will-to-power and will-to-love…for things…for themselves.
Lie is the foundation and highest form of art by itself.
All mighty structures in this three-thousand-cosmoses are based on a violent struggle against suffering and many many lies.. all peace are founded upon wars and much much dishonesty. Wars are the most sacred and disgusting human activity, but it is the most truthful. The cause and end of every war is to end suffering. Suffering is expressed by men as ignorance. But to end suffering one means relinquishing the rights to cry too. And we must give up lies in exchange to truth---unveiling it and defiling it. Therefore we make fun of sufferings and tears sometimes all so we could enjoy pain again in our shame.
Still we must fight against suffering.
Still we must know.
Fighting against suffering makes one improve, fighting for it will not.
Doubt is the basis of the strongest faith.
………………………….
"What does not Kill me make me stronger"
Suffering does not make you better than others, but it might yet make you stronger; but you do not become stronger by magical transformation, it must be done through willpower----hard-earned conquests through blood and pain. Overcoming suffering does not entail senseless revenge--against others, against fate, against yourself----you must rise above it----to do the noble, transcendental thing that absolutely affirms your true will---unburdened by sourness' and bitterness brought by frustrations. This is called virtues----in Latin virtus(n.) which means manliness----this hints at Romans' conception of its nature at not throwing a stupid tantrum and repay in kind like a brat but deal with it with some shrewdness we call justice…and those we conceive power to be this kind of manliness did become powerful and build many empires…many of us are their children in the western world.
De Re Militari by Vegetius is a fine example of this way of thinking, philosophising and fighting. It might not be wise to say this is the direct cause of the glory and prosperity of Roman empire and powers that emulated it in history. And we do not know whether they are correlative in the realm of history and can be used to predict the trends in future developments of civilisation. But at least we know; Romans, speak like this, and are sad.
There are some very practical and well-defined philosophical of life found in de re militari and Sun Zu, and in Laozu too.
Justice is not devoting as much force as possible when it needs it, not "do your best" or "absolutely going to fight against it", but it is apply forces where they are due.. a very cool, calculating and precise science…for the purpose of doing what it does. A simple art by platonic definition in some way. One must separate emotion from science in matters regarding life and death.
Justice is about overcoming and overtaking, with a great deal of shrewdness, calmness, collectedness and a great deal of pride and absolute rejection of any compromises in a way that is possible to do within the realm of military tactics.
Justice not in crushing those who defy you and destroy you----but overtaking them, curing them, governing them---master them…and befriend them…even most evil friends can become good when you are STRONG enough --- but with no naivety in the belief of a harmonious and peaceful universe without paying wounds for it---put the world against you under a yoke with the mercy-seat of bright and sharp science, passion and understanding of true pain! To cure you must too fight, for and against your nature, for and against this universe.
"When a tiger kills your horse, and you kill it, you get a dead tiger and a dead horse;
But instead like a hunter you stalk it; observe its passions, appetites, the water it drinks, the kind of viands it prefers, the grass into which it relieves itself. and be patient, take time. learn its foibles. observe its taste in making love; with what kind of mates, when, where. Try to come up with a mathematical model for its behaviour in both physical and mental realms. Study its physical and metaphysical physiology. Do not worship it. Do not build a temple for it. Express no awe for it but only respect as a worthy opponent. Do not feel debased by it. Use science to dissect it. Use poetry to evaluate it. Use songs to deride it. Fight it, take time and fight it. Get close to it. So close that you might become it-----do not become it. Now gaze into its soul when it perished through violence or course of nature. Mourn for it, but do not take more than an hour. Do not stop your philosophisings there… stay and watch it rot. Watch the vultures, ants, microbes decomposing it. Learn the smell of the putrid and dead. Do not enjoy it, do not feel disgusted by it. Make songs but do not glorify it. Stay…Stay….take your time. See how the tiger's form is transfigured into the winds that gather and foist themselves up to the heavens. Do not let the winds out of your sight…and see how the fat turns into the solid earth….learn the chemical and mechanical processes in the physical plane with sound science…theorise what transpired on the eternal plane and their respective chemical and mechanical processes---do not mystify them either. and watch its blood join the unknowable rivers, lakes, estuaries, seas and oceans outside the scope of your eye. Then travel, on foot, and learn what happens on the banks of those river bodies. record beasts and animals and humans live there, their traditions, their passions, their mating tastes and rituals, their ways of gathering food and ways to relieving themselves, and their deaths. Travel along the course of water. Learn, write, translate, sing, record; go! "Sorrow saith: Hence! Go!"*1 Collect everything into a paper or electronic notebook in languages you know…translate them…publish them. Share them…study them…worship them but then doodles over them…bootleg them…pirate them….. burn them….trash them…so they can become better and better----train them into one Voice, one Tongue. Translate them…into the language of birds, of seas, of the colour of my toy car, of the font used in the title page of "Little Prince", of fantastic erotic drawings by Japanese doujinshi artists, of semen, of war and hunger, of destitution, of murder and prostitution, of collective farm and concentration camps…translate them! more and more! learn all the tongues sung in this vast, deep blue world… full of woes, sorrows…
"Sorrow saith: Hence! Go!"
Blue be the words, I speak blue words!
Collect every tongue into a song---a song of the universe---PANGLOSS-- it will transform into a black, short-handled whip born of the eternal blue desert of solitude, it will cause vortices, sandstorms, monsoons, tempests, revolutions, assassinations, annihilations, destruction, murder, sexual revelations, exhilarations, wine, apocalypse---it shall shoot out seeds…beautiful, beautiful white semen that will make all my blueness pregnant with the most noble, most solitary, strongest souls that understand pain---and speak in and through pain!
Poetry!
Pain!
Make the eternally dishonest and shameful transparent cloudless blueness---my deep, deep blueness---all my sorrows and woes… my impotent Olympian paradise into the red and burning tongue of poetry----with its meters and rhymes guided with the inspiring muse which is science and philosophy!
Sing it! Scream of Man!
By this song I conquer! Under this song I conquer!
My song is my sword and my whip; I conquer.
Now then go up to the tiger that ate your horse.
*2"Tyger Tyger, burning bright.
In the deep blue forest of my woe,
I am the immortal hand and eye,
That saw through your lying frame and frightened symmetry.
Burning tygers with burning eye,
On what wings, but wings known and built by I?
What hand, but my hand that has clutched thy fire?
What flesh and what bones---but my wish,
my heart's desire…
my beating, beating heart for thy
dreadful and sad form to be mine own.
I hold the hammer; and the vines
Hell be my burning forges and tongs
And taught me myself the skill and ken
that turns the blue blue Paradise round .
Anvils a-flowing; upon the deep seas I strike thy form.
Hammering down with triumphant tears,
Rains blue and sad; into the ocean.
Must I mourn, must I sing---long for
a firmament to come out the blue.
crystal and transient----loving philosophy
With lust and longing I sought thee---in abyss
In longing and lust I have found thee---Io, my joy.
In abyss.
You are mine and me self-made. My white sandy island.
Upon the ever-wasting waves of the unpredictable ocean.
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
I will one day by thy side.
Thy immortal hand and immortal eye.
Shall be tamed; thy frame, thy fiery skin.
Submit to me; the deep blue love.
Most empyrean, most grave.
"
You have taken your time, now go and fly to the tiger that killed your horse, on the wings of PANGLOSS.
"
Do I not live immortal triumphant by destroying all lies and ignorance---by not pretending---but spitting on everything---including beauty and truth?
"Do I not profane and desecrate all things men hold dear--- do I not brutally open graves and chop up long-dead corpses in careful dissection with due respect---do I not then artfully smash men's memories, thinkings and creations of each and every age including the now and the future with the delicate, pointed hammer of philosophy through all blackest profanities, disgust, spite, enjoyment and derision? Do I not love dead things for the sake of their worth and their deserved respect---and thus completely defile and deny them?
Could the limits of science and philosophy and art ever stop my killing-as-thinking? Am I not destined to be the defiler of all holy tombs and drag and lash or pierce or cut up all holy corpses so I can learn?
The quest for the truth is to make wars; science is meant to deliver great destruction through wars. It causes hunger and drought too….all places where lies and deceptions born form human values will be destroyed. And human will have nothing to sate their souls with and can only starve and keep a parched tongue…make ye cake and drink ye wine then.
I am the lord of war, hunger, plunder, rape and raptures. For I am Gay Science and search for the Eternal Happy Blue Truth.
Will not Nature, who conceal everything beautiful from me under a thin, mystic veil submit to my love, and be pregnant with my children---who shall be even better conquerors, murderers, lovers, mourners, teachers and more passionate philosophers, sculpturers, manga artists, game-programmers and poets?
Is not semen the strongest weapon in the world?
Isn't it most joyful and exalted, sacred thing---highest decorum, ethics, morals, duty, obligation, law, commandment, poetry, and a great, great destiny--- to spread semen onto everything----even into one's own body---one's cells, one's blood vessels, beating heart, blood pressure, one's diseases, one's taste, one's vertebral and feet, one's forms and colours, one's behaviour and destinations, one's compulsions, one's spiritual needs, one's lament, one's desire, one's lies, one's numbness, one's consecrations and contempt for holy things, one's trouble, Nostalgie de la boue, Nostalgia for all things Anti-Nolstalgic…one's longing for food or entertainment he cannot purchase…
one's pirated artworks, books, thoughts, religions and consultation through copulations with fantastic Japanese nymphs…one's longing for black hair…one's longing for a paler, clearer and better seminal philosophy… one's longing for more pale, pale seeds; one's thirst for a most fatal and pernicious art form …that everything blurry, pale, squeamish mercilessly kills… one's thirst for highest expressions of violence that renders the blue and shallow earth which is devoid of anything other than red poppy flowers, green food or wild plants and yellow manure soil---making all the shallow things deeply profound through the blossoming of inky black cherry blossoms *3? (that, destroys one completely…the highest form of drunken blasphemy allowed to a righteous, sorrowful monk.)
Would not mind kill his conscience for knowing his consciousness?
Would we not kill ourselves to find the key to open the lock with which Nature has permanently sealed up the little dingy, dark cell our consciousness resides in? Does one not wish to illuminate the illimitable darkness, coldness and discomfort of his desolate existence by picking the lock through wisdom or smashing it with violence or making deals with it through dishonest diplomacy at any cost?
Is not life sufficient if we could dig, pierce or jack up a chance crack through which we may attempt a faint peek just a little bit towards things outside our black, black chamber?
Do we not ejaculate semen on the ceilings, walls, the floor, human bodies, mountains, seas, societies, histories, wine and into transcendental ideas and eternal forms of beauty and righteousness to make that crack----are we not trying to destroy the good and beautiful so we can crack their false images to see the truth WITHOUT us (outside us)?"
"perhaps then
he gains an intimation that man rests in the in
difference of his ignorance on the greedy, the
insatiable, the disgusting, the merciless, the
murderous, suspended in dreams on the back of
a tiger.
Nietzsche, On the Pathos of Truth 1872
Would you not slay that ignorance with a burning sword that is in the shape of the phrase (in Japanese)"なんだか・わからない”*4 (I don't understand you, things I do not know / poetically "Nandaka--I submit to thy Will). It is a sword that is in the shape of a fire, and life….and a whip---nay a nasty fishing line..
It might have said this Chinese idiom:
姜太公釣魚——願者上鉤* "Fish, if you are desperate to live, come and gulp down the hook by yourself."
(姜太公釣魚——願者上鉤 - Wiktionary, the free dictionary retrieved Aug 21st 2023)
Or in Nietzche's poetry, from his Dionysian Dithyrambs:
"Seamen blown off course! Rubble of old stars!
You seas of the future! Unexplored sky !
to all that knows solitude do I now throw this line:
give answer to the flame's impatience,
catch me, the fisherman on high mountains,
my seventh, final solitude! - -"
(Verschlagne Schiffer! Trümmer alter Sterne !
Ihr Meere der Zukunft! Unausgeforschte Himmel!
nach allem Einsamen werfe ich jetzt die Angel:
gebt Antwort auf die Ungeduld der Flamme,
fangt mir, dem Fischer auf hohen Bergen,
meine. siebente, letzte Einsamkeit!--)
##Did you also notice the English translation use "seaman" (semen?) to translate "Schiffer"? Is not my song a portend of both earthly and subterrain Willpower?###
Or…Buddha's ponderous, ponderous golden spider thread in hell…of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke's*
*蜘蛛の糸 - Wikipedia retrieved Aug 21 2023)
Would you not study and master the forces inside
"the greedy, the
insatiable, the disgusting, the merciless, the
murderous" in that of a tiger?
Would you not abandon all evils; and hence all goods, to become the true master of morality or 徳*5; to know it is an empty vessel, and fill whatever wine pleases you?
Is this not simply another shade of colour of paint in your full palette to paint whatever you wish, in whatever form you wish, with however you like it---how much you like it….or not paint at all….guided with nothing but highest science, most majestic craft, greatest folly, and the most ardent desire or anti-desire----the Willpower or Anti-Willpower to create the best and most beautiful thing known to you? (even, with so much ugliness still hidden in the nooks and crannies of its imperfect form---but do we not love it eternal and take that imperfection further to its wildest abandon----to make things imperfect perfected also by growing it up?)
Do you not wish to paint? The most beautiful woman of your dream? Eternal lover and much much more? Would that not be the strongest power in the world?
Is not erotic doujinshi, games, illustrations, music the highest form of human Art that one can ever aspire for in this black and cold eternity? Are they not the brightest beacon for the highest hope of philosophy?
Are you not joyful when you masturbate? Is not all masturbation the conversation with most pure and holy and beautiful things?
Will you not masturbate to Aphrodite and give her a garland of rainbow-foam to wear?
Are you not in love, blue-butterfly-bird?
Do you not seek foam in brown beer or red wine?
Is not life made of the purest foam?
Is not semen transcendentally beautiful?
Is not your dream to ride the tiger with her most …radiant…rainbow-bruised…lovely…speckled…white…brown..black..red…yellow..blue…dark….dark….dark….blue..dark…..death…earth…sound..sea….clouds…life…love….semen…womb….hair…feet….arse…spine…..neck….hand…fingers…breast….muscles…sinews…heart….bones….graves…slaves…..whips…back…..dominance…kingdom….revolution…destruction….wounds…arrows….deception…beggars…lies…fountains….roads…vales….travels…doom…friends….friend….coals….heat..eat...fire…membrane….dismemberment….black and white Slovakia films… Shakugan no Shana…lotus…locus…entrails…tharmas…times….tides…foam…foam…ghost story…karma sutra…Ango…Ringo…bad apple…Baudelaire…Poe…Blake….that galgame calld TokyoSchoolLife…Nietzche…Never7…ever17….eternal return….wheels…Herzog…rainbow…milk…foam…foam…foam…memories off…that doujinshi I could not find again which I read and masturbated to at 14 about a sad, lost ghost girl making love and becoming eternal love with a mortal, weak, delinquent, stupid, misguided, misogynic, cruel, abused but righteous, righteous boy… a mortal boy….Peter Pan…Koko and Sora im Himmel…Kasumi and Mae e Susume…Episode 12 of Powerpuff Girls Z…Niarretbus…Pantasm-fantasm-Padma-Pa-ma-sound-to-thy-bossom-blossom-folsom-Madma-Mama…
Artsuhtarahz-Niarretbus…Pfpantasm-Gaea…Gathering Scent..Oi (Pain)…Oni (love)…Hatsuki (8)…Io (myself)…
", suspended in dreams
on the back of
a tiger."*6
Is it not rosily eternal and poetic
that we could with
blinding just justice to ride on the black back of that
beautiful, beautiful blind tiger?
Born from and into the foams?
*1 Zarathustra's roundelay - Wikipedia retrieved Aug 21 2023
*2 William Blake's Tyger (1794)
The Tyger - Wikipedia
*3 Saigyo (西行）'s haiku "墨染め桜” and 「幽雅に咲かせ、墨染の桜」 from Touhou project
*5 Teh, De from Taoism in its truest form without Confucius nonsense.
Tao Te Ching - Wikipedia
*6 Nietzsche on Pathos of Truth 1872. The whole paragraph borrows much from it.