Closeted Romantic, Mr. Nietzsche

by heytherewildflower

“To my friend Georg!

After you had discovered me, it was no trick to find me: the difficulty now is to lose me . . .

                                                                        The Crucified” F. Nietzsche

Once my friend Theresa told me that before we were friends (we lived on the same freshman hall back then,) whenever she saw me in the hall she said it looked like I was either in a GOOD ALI or EVIL ALI mode. Bad Witch or Good Witch.

I watched Harry Potter 7 pt 2 last night. and what person who has read obssesively each HP installment doesn’t remember the classic quote (Hp and the Sorcerer’s Stone)

“I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…” Professor Quirrell, Page 291

Whenever any college kid or college age dreamer brings up concepts of good and evil and the ULTIMATE TRUTH. OR WHATEVER. I think about Harry Potter. and Professor Quirrell’s smelly turban, dwelling place of foetal Voldemort and his rotty soul. 

This 19 year old guy…wonderful artist, smart kid, sick with the travel bug and fresh off a Euro trip (Italy, France, and elsewhere and beyond) was ranting and raving to me about starting a revolution. He said it would only be possible to start and finish and nail that bitch (revolution) if it stemmed from some ultimate truth (in which he was a staunch believer.)

 (REVOLUTION, after all, is a lengthened and fancier version of revolve, and this word is astronomical. meaning it comes from astronomy. in other words, its original meaning was astronomical. and then it got political in the 1800s because the French made it so. After that, the poor little word got pretty absurd. )

Pronunciation:  Brit. /ˌrɛvəˈl(j)uːʃn/ , U.S. /ˌrɛvəˈluʃ(ə)n/

Forms: α. ME reuolucioun, ME reuolucoun, ME reuolusioun, ME revolucyoun, ME 16 revolucion, ME–15 reuolucyon, ME–16 reuolucion, ME–16 reuolution, lME reuolucyos , 15 reuolucioune , 15 reuoluciowne, 15 reuolutione , 15 revolutione, 15–16 reuolution, 15– revolution, 16 revolutyon; N.E.D. (1908) also records a form of the ending lME -cioune1.Astron.
 a. The apparent movement of the sun, a constellation, the firmament, etc., around the earth; the movement of a planet, moon, satellite, etc., in a circular or elliptical course round another, or about a centre of mass; (now esp.) a single circuit of this kind.
SO basically. a revolution is something fed by its own momentum, burning towards where it was coming from, and on and on. And really, its only retribution is orbit drift. Since the entire universe is drifting, and slowly, its patterns shift, and occasionally big explosions and black holes, and galactic cannibalism, make the ultimate changes. but their movements are so big, our tiny minds barely register what changes do occur and what causes them. but we keep trying to, because, what the fuck else are we going to do with ourselves if we’re not entirely occupied with starving and prowling and gathering and surviving. Absurd hope for something more.
 
In other words, this 19 year old kid, the blossoming painter, victim of wanderlust dementia and seduced by the sexiness of the penniless, roving artist, he made me review my phases a bit. Made me think about what I used to think was cool and great. and worth investing day dreams in.
 
(Did you ever have that SAVING THE BOY/GIRL YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON WHO YOU BARELY KNOW/BARELY TALK TO/ARE NERVOUS AROUND  from school bus crash/the apocalypse day dream??? Do you ever wish you had something to die for, like a child or a lover, and you had something to save them from? and in retrospect, isn’t it stupid? dumb to wish for that predicament, and lazy to hope the task of making your worth in a single easy act of kamikazi?) (as differentiated from actual, in the moment, unavoidable, unmerciful sacrifices that you never never never plan.)
 
Its funny. This talented 19 year old kid was regurgitating my thoughts like he was reading my mind. I met him for ten minutes, and he was stoned, and he talked about CONSTANT DISSATISFACTION, wanderlust as avoidance, traveling escapism, having no money, buying frivolous things and eating bread for two weeks, wanting to be satisfied with stagnance. wanting adventure. but wanting to be cured of the addiction. miserable in one place. not establishing anything lasting by constantly escaping commitment to place and people. terrified of what people will see in you if you allow them not to miss you, and dont run away from all the sides of your pesonality that inevitably must come out. somebody knowing more than half of you. and finally, running away in anticipation of a  Romance breaking. 
 
 
maybe there is a kind of power in perpetuating your own revolutionary momentum. maybe there is weakness in being overcome by momentum, going nowhere, coming from where you’re still going.
 
 
 
I miss hanging on by the skin of my teeth to concepts like I used to.
 
 

Professor Marvel: Better get under cover, Sylvester. There’s a storm blowin’ up – a whopper, to speak in the vernacular of the peasantry. Poor little kid, I hope she gets home all right.”

Cowardly Lion: Courage! What makes a king out of a slave? Courage! What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage! What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? Courage! What makes the dawn come up like thunder? Courage! What makes the Hottentot so hot? What puts the “ape” in apricot? What have they got that I ain’t got?
Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Woodsman: Courage!
Cowardly Lion: You can say that again!”