As you know, I’m always a wreck on the holidays.

This leads me to a study on Cioran, where Schopenhauer is quoted in the beginning

If we knocked on the graves and asked the dead whether they would like to rise again, they would shake their heads.

That puppy misses the teat so I gave him another bowl of half&half and he lapped it up real fast, so there are some redeeming things in life.

People tend to forget that the doctrine of amor fati was a direct response to Schopenhauer though, and the latter offers a thought-experiment that can give one pause

at the end of his life, no one, if he be sincere and at the same time in possession of his faculties, will ever wish to go through it again.

I’m sure there are lots of people who are elated during the holidays, just not types like me. This can be the roughest time for those who don’t follow a “normal” path. If you aren’t a normie you don’t get to celebrate like the normies- yet something in you still yearns to celebrate.

I see the holidays as expressing the Apollonian world. Part of a Dionysian still wants to be an Apollonian. Have our cake and eat it too kind of situation. That’s part of the Faustian bargain of opening Pandora’s Box. You get to understand the normies better than they understand themselves but at the same time you don’t get to enjoy the positive side of being one of them.

Asking the real questions

how is it possible to feel nothing but unmitigated spite for so many different kinds of people?

I Dream of a Norman Holiday. Someone should make a song titled that.

It’s funny how, reading this essay on misanthropy, I even hate the one who wrote it. Maybe some have the same idea about me.

Yeah right, you know you’d prefer to have me at the Thanksgiving table with you than most people.

I feel this third one on the holidays

Self-conscious life was a mistake- neither the Apollonian or Dionysian paths are viable or carry any meaning.

Your grave will be knocked on and you’ll be annoyed to remember the world of the living.

These aren’t such bad aphorisms, I can’t hate this guy too much

We just can never give up the hope that there are jewels inside people.

Been there, done that

I long to write a grand treatise of misanthropy, a masterpiece of ugliness, a magnum opus of vitriol and eternity – an indictment of a species whose greatest achievement is the realization of its own extinction.

This is in the spirit of Cioran

Happy Thanksgiving by the way.

“No, no, unironically fr fr.” This pessimism is the way I give thanks.

Misanthropy is just humanity’s self-awareness of itself. I’m thankful for that awareness.

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