Essays and Stories
Thus it Ended, Thus it Began, Hence it Endures
It was in the dusk of war that the Deceiver, the one who twisted the minds of men and dragons alike, was seen. It was Zuin Tal who beheld him. Zuin, uniter and commander of the Common-Folk and speaker for the dragons. It was by his piercing empathy that he was able to free the majority of the dragons from the Deceivers temptation’s and thus earned their trust and gratitude. Zuin recognized the Deceiver, he pierced his deception with his gaze; and his heart with his sword. Thus it Ended. At his death much of the madness ceased, yet some of the twisted fled to nurse their insanity. Victory was had, but not without cost, many had fallen. After the victory celebration, Zuin and his son ventured to the Tree of Prayers to release the souls of his fallen wife and his twin daughters not yet born. But peace was not yet to be had; the price was not fully paid. The dragon Naelung, its mind bent so far that it relished its evils, thought to take vengeance upon Zuin. Naelung wreathed the great tree in flame, burning it to the ground and Zuin along with it. Zuin’s son, who had wandered off, saw the great fire, and ran to his father. He saw the fleeing dragon and shot a single arrow. The arrow’s flight was true and it struck Naelung in the throat, felling the tortured dragon. The great price of peace was now paid. Thus it Began. Men and dragon alike lamented over their champion, Zuin. They labored together to retain their fallen savior, building a tomb unlike any ever seen, and securing his soul before it dispersed into the breeze. Then, the greatest of the dragons sacrificed his material self to provide his pearl, the house of his soul, and drew Zuin within to wander with him through the minds of past and current dragons, through the heavens. Here his soul rests, his tomb worn but enduring. The pearl remains, eternity permeating from it, metamorphosing its surroundings into a lasting state. Hence it Endures.
Lost in Thought
The shackles of time and space are impertinent; for when reality is but a thought, the laws of the natural world are but a memory.
Aethos lamented over his lost freedom, looking down to his iron shackles. But made of that same adamant iron was his will. Aethos focused his will, honed it as if he were a master blacksmith refining a sword. Wielding his virgin blade, still smoldering with the heat of the forge, he sundered his restraints. He rose up, took flight, ever-carefully dashing up through the dungeon, ignoring the meek cries of his jailers, he was free! Aethos burst into the sunlight, the kind heat of the sun saturating his being. He harnessed the energies of the sun, and burst into flames, rising, rising with exhilaration as a phoenix reborn. He heard the guards below squawking, and he returned, as he knew he could break the shackles of reality with but a whim.
The True Prophet and The False Champion
As the stars align, their image will be seen in every home. By viewing them we give them their brilliance which we so desire.
“The stars will align and your fate shall be decided.” The old hag croaked. Boris stood, frowning as he shoved aside the flaps covering the doorway. He looked up into the moon lit sky and strode out to meet his companions. Boris thought of the nights leading up to this moment. Not two months ago he watched his dearest friend cut to ribbons, while all he could do was stand and watch. He walked further; reaching his destination he grinned. He saw the stars aligned along a carpet of red, and he greeted his companions. His fate would soon be decided.
Philosophy and Aesthetics
An Extreme Rendering of my Beliefs Through Experimental Philosophy
Will to power, survival of the fittest, test for sex; all hinting at accuracy but not fully embodying it. If all actions may be sublimated into an ultimate goal, it would be the strive for immortality. But how does one acquire immortality? Preservation of bloodline most would say, thinking as Darwin or Freud might, and they would be partially correct. Immortality may also be achieved of remembrance through legend, and of influence through idea and perspective. I will reduce my practice to the strive for immortality, which must either be narcissistic or selfish in nature. Will I play the narcissistic role or the selfish one? I choose narcissism.
According to Nietzsche one’s philosophy is just a representation of their own experiences, I am no exception. I assume that everyone stretches towards immortality as I do. But it is an assumption based from my experiences and my readings; it is an assumption formed from my still unfurling life of observation. It also is a more complete version of Freud’s, Darwin’s, and Nietzsche’s ultimate goal. Freud’s test for sex is obviously a shallow thought, but nonetheless it is part of a path to immortality. This part was widened by Darwin; reproductive drive was part of it, but also survival in general, adaptation, and evolution; this hits squarely on the path to immortality through preservation of bloodline. Nietzsche was nearing another path, hinting at it with his will to power concept. This driving force was to achievement, ambition, and eventually reaching to patriarchal status, matriarchal status, or the highest possible position in life. I say that this is just the means to the goal; the means to be remembered throughout time, to become legend.
Before I go further, what is my practice? I do not make art. Art may be lifted to a higher set of standards; above morality, only produceable by genius, says Kant. But it is also weighed down by beliefs and standards -- the beliefs and standards of a variety of cultures; why submit?. Can I break away from these cultural inclinations? How individual can I be when I am so immersed? I may say that I do not make art, but that is merely semantics and may not even hold true sway over me or others. I will acknowledge flaws and doubts but may not resolve them. I feel that it is unnecessary to state with utter certainty, because, just as you know nothing, neither do I. Yet past these doubts I will stay resolute in this train of thought. I am only here to provoke thought, translate idea. I find no need to shackle myself. I find no need to conform. I do not make art, I simply create reality.
Reality is whatever I perceive; it is my perspective. If you perceive my reality, it spreads; like a seed, like blood, like legend. Through the transmittal and adoption of ideas, our beliefs, wants, and aspects are transmitted, prolonged, and incorporated into others. For these reasons, even if Plato, Kant, and Darwin were unknown by name and character they would still be immortal. For the ideas they set forth live on in most all of us. Can I do the same with creation? This is what I will focus on, the third and least thought of path to Immortality as it is achieved through creation.
How will you perceive my reality though? Philosophy is nigh formed for this purpose, to impress your ideas onto others. How could creation compete with this? Because it is as close to pure idea as may be possible. Creation is my transmitter of idea; conveyor of reality. My reality is the unreal; the surreal, they may be considered forms, epitomizing idea, being recreated as I view these forms. The view that art is of a far lesser level of reality, as it is a representation of a representation of form, is removed in my practice. My creation is based off idea, not the representation of idea. Thus it is in the same plane of reality as a river, tree, or human. Yet not so, as my representations of form are perceived they are removed from the constraints of physicality. This is because the creations become not wholly me, not wholly themselves. They become in part the viewer, the creation is morphed by another’s sight, becoming more than physical, becoming imagined. These perceptions are the closest one may come to a true form, the closest one may come to reality. These explanations may be vague but that is all and well, read into my writing what you will, bring it closer to reality.
Looking into my own experience I find that the creations that were most impactful upon my self were those formed of words. These realities woven into existence bent me to their thought. I will acknowledge this and I will write. Literature proves dominant in this just as it was the highest degree of art for Kant. Stories have formed me, and now I will form them. But also I will attempt to create wordless stories, still just as readable, with deep backstories within and emotion invoking aspects through and through.
This is why, how, what I create. It is inspired and largely purposed. It is my obsession, my reality, my profession. My thoughts, my desires, my visions, my forms. My will, my virus, my cure. My legacy, my path. This is creation.