Nietzsche brought me alive because he helped me to get outside of a character structure that had been formulated on the basis of fitful despair. Also he gave me something to focus on, because at that time life was a riddle. I gazed at the yellow and black textual language like a monk in a cloister. Except that I was in my bath, and the pages had yellowed and become curly and started to fall out. Also the book gets much thicker when the pages have absorbed a lot of water and dried out a few times.
So I actually thought that Nietzsche would introduce me to Modernity, which is what everybody believed in. Since God Was Dead in Rhodesia, this must be the new messiah. Or not. But in any case an instigator to investigate the paths of Modernity. So I started looking at modern people as Nietzscheans and thinking "Ah, this is what you actually think." Because I'd read Human, All Too Human, by now, and I thought others who had lived for generations in Modernity must have read it too, and I was just making steps to catch up with them.
Also, I had alighted up on the Nietzschean notion of contempt, although I hadn't understood it yet, so I kept referring to "the great contempt you must have for people" when I spoke to those who had taken on the role of officiating for the Modern order. I thought that they must surely know that they had contempt, and that if I was to be their acolyte and learn under them, I would also somehow manage to habituate myself to this manner of contempt for things.
But I also learned a bit more than this, believe me. I started to see a new orientation to things that made me sick, and as if everything were written in reverse, when I was lying in my bath tub.
But I'd cracked one aspect of my need for subservience, which was in my need never to lie. I had to divulge all the contents of my brain onto whomever asked. If there was something slightly false about me and it was as thin as a hair, attached to a hare brain, I would have to give it due attention, to adjust myself to something that some deity commanded, long ago.
But I learned from Nietzsche others can't really read into you mind that well, so it is not exactly forbidden to lie. So then I had to take out lying for a test drive, because I'd never tried that mechanism yet. And sure enough. It wasn't possible for others to be sure whether you were lying or telling the truth. And what was Truth anyway? I was starting to see that it might be something more than my raw brain contents. And different from sincerity or blanket earnestness, perhaps.
At least now I knew that the inside part of me could not be known by others, which was quite a revelation. I could use communication as my own force and instrument and not allow others to exploit my deep needs to express myself to gather information they could use against me. That was a pretty neat trick -- communicating or not communicating at one's own will.
So I actually thought that Nietzsche would introduce me to Modernity, which is what everybody believed in. Since God Was Dead in Rhodesia, this must be the new messiah. Or not. But in any case an instigator to investigate the paths of Modernity. So I started looking at modern people as Nietzscheans and thinking "Ah, this is what you actually think." Because I'd read Human, All Too Human, by now, and I thought others who had lived for generations in Modernity must have read it too, and I was just making steps to catch up with them.
Also, I had alighted up on the Nietzschean notion of contempt, although I hadn't understood it yet, so I kept referring to "the great contempt you must have for people" when I spoke to those who had taken on the role of officiating for the Modern order. I thought that they must surely know that they had contempt, and that if I was to be their acolyte and learn under them, I would also somehow manage to habituate myself to this manner of contempt for things.
But I also learned a bit more than this, believe me. I started to see a new orientation to things that made me sick, and as if everything were written in reverse, when I was lying in my bath tub.
But I'd cracked one aspect of my need for subservience, which was in my need never to lie. I had to divulge all the contents of my brain onto whomever asked. If there was something slightly false about me and it was as thin as a hair, attached to a hare brain, I would have to give it due attention, to adjust myself to something that some deity commanded, long ago.
But I learned from Nietzsche others can't really read into you mind that well, so it is not exactly forbidden to lie. So then I had to take out lying for a test drive, because I'd never tried that mechanism yet. And sure enough. It wasn't possible for others to be sure whether you were lying or telling the truth. And what was Truth anyway? I was starting to see that it might be something more than my raw brain contents. And different from sincerity or blanket earnestness, perhaps.
At least now I knew that the inside part of me could not be known by others, which was quite a revelation. I could use communication as my own force and instrument and not allow others to exploit my deep needs to express myself to gather information they could use against me. That was a pretty neat trick -- communicating or not communicating at one's own will.
No comments:
Post a Comment