Here, (right here) the senate transcends the capacities of the human body to locate itself. In the byzantine corridors of these blog posts we are lost in a big hotel, filled with glass elevators and numbered rooms off into infinitum. Where do we go? What do we write? Shall the irksome sound of silence descend upon the intarwebs blog stain we have smeared? What values do we hold here, if any? Power?
"As God as my judge I am not guilty" "God is not your judge, I am. You get six months."
WTF has happened to senate? Terry Shivo anyone? Do the eyes of our blog follow the doctor's balloon? e-euthanasia? I think we are (here) on this page to learn how to be immortal, or better, learning not to be mortal, to refuse finitude and disavow death's poisonous breath. To desire this immortality is not the mastery of death, but the very limit of philosophical thinking. Or as Plato put it so many years ago, 'To philosophize is to learn how to die.' Together we surf, in postmodernist hyperspace, make a post and a glad day for surfing.
I write this post senators in the hopes that we haven't lost our way as much as I fear we have. While our posts on our philosophies have conviction, I fear that they are that of brave group of asses. Lost on the e-pages of the future, we press plastic keys that appear on hypnotizing monitors in order to find some scrap of Truth that we as friends, we as Senators, can enjoy together via Google Blogger. However, it has come to my attention that our senate floor has become something akin to a kitty litter box where we bury our own shit in e-form so it doesn't stink up our owners house - and what tasteful cat goes digging though kitty litter for their friends loaf.
In seeking truth (e or otherwise) one must ask "What in us really wants truth?" We do not know where this urge for truth comes from, but still have it none the less is evidenced by the plethora of posts on various theories, anecdotes and rantings. Even more complicated, "accepted" truths passed through time and forged by a sum of human relations and enhancements such that they become obligatory to people as masses; it is sad for me to recognize that this has become true even to us noble senators. Instead of lying to ourselves and each other according to our obligation of the fixed conventions of this post-modern world we must question the value of truth, "Why not rather want untruth?" The value of truth has blinded us senators, we have lived too excited by the questioning of truth and gotten lost, truly lost.
The worst error I have seen on the Senate floor recently is one myself has been a part of. The shifting of "gears" from the aesthetic to the ethical to the stoic. Now to start the problem I have with this I will illustrate the underlying values in the two dichotomies. In the Stoic we have good and evil, an opposite value system that seems so useful and so very 'right' but it makes the mistake of the religious, it has the distaste of faith steeped in it. This faith I speak of is that in opposite values. This belief that the world can be divided into opposites (good&bad,truth&falsehood, even aestheticðical as well as the material and the immaterial) is nothing more than that, a belief. The relation between these so called opposites is far more complex, and even involves interdependency. Even Kierkegaard knew this in his work Either/Or, where each state of sphere of existence in effect represents a distinctive answer to the question, "What is it essentially to be a human being?" The radical nature of the choices of A/B (a seeming opposite value system)lies in the fact that in choosing one of the stages you are also choosing the kinds of reason available to you for defending your choice.
We with our philosophical prejudices have been baptizing our truths on the intar-webs and have been very far from having the good taste and the courage to let this be known, but that does not make our Google blog really a kitty litter box for the occasional e-loaf. This senate floor is and always will be a confessional for we four philosopher kings, giving the entire intar-webs insight into our character and maybe the occasional youtube video. However, the goal of a mass (Google) communication culture is enlightenment in reverse.(Thank you anti-intellectual E-crop rotation).
Now I hope this post has not come off as a condemnation of the senate as a whole, for every philosophical work is that of a memoir based on personal assertions, but instead I hope this post pushes us to make a new dawn of personal assertions. Ones that are truly for the future, one that are fit for a Senate blog and are beyond good and evil and all opposite value systems, a true post-modern memoir. I want this group of proud senators to immerse themselves in Roman love, for when you are in love you are in freedom, for e-expression is a gift and 'every age and every year has its own flowering spring.'
Now I hope that anyone that understands my words, eventually recognizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them-as steps-to climb up beyond them. (he must so to speak, throw away that ladder after he has climbed up it). He must transcend these writings and thoughts, and then he will see the world aright.
Daddy and The Senator met up in the Babylonian Bedlam and had a ball offering our services to the unemployed friends of our fine institution. The skies wept late in the evening but a little water couldn't ruin The Senator's night!! He hadn't had this much fun since the last Chris and the Gentle Dicks last reunion tour!! Luckily I took some photos of The Senator and his lovely new tattoos.
Dear Man Who Always Takes My Seat at the Public Library,
I understand why you don't like books as much as you love watching Lil' Jon videos on youtube for hours at a time. I also understand --at least hypothetically-- why you don't like using deodorant. However, WHY MUST YOU LOVE stealing my corner seat? Everyone knows that it allows one to be shielded from the smell of Guy Who Loves Staring At His Crotch and the noise of Woman Who Brings The Whole Town's Recycling With Her but COME THE FUCK ON, you can watch Lil' Jon videos IN ANY OTHER SEAT but you continue to steal the only one where my charger reaches the outlet so thus forcing me to use the seedbed soaked public computers once mine dies. Please just go back to Bulgaria with that girl that was into Nero that one summer. (wait, was she Romanian?)
