The Greatest Weight

Das grösste Schwergewicht. — Wie, wenn dir eines Tages oder Nachts, ein Dämon in deine einsamste Einsamkeit nachschliche und dir sagte: „Dieses Leben, wie du es jetzt lebst und gelebt hast, wirst du noch einmal und noch unzählige Male leben müssen; und es wird nichts Neues daran sein, sondern jeder Schmerz und jede Lust und jeder…More

By Love

What does it mean that you love me, anyways?  To this,  everyone around the man who spoke gathered up in a cold cave tucked high in a hill somewhere in their country, as though to look for warmth but with warmth to be found, everyone was silent; nor did any one of them understand why…More

The Quarrel Between Philosophy and Poetry Revisited

The turn to poetry need not be a turn to the less disciplined as opposed to the rigorous, to the figurative as opposed to the technical, precise or literal, to one truth as opposed to another.  This opposition, while a powerful tool for both spheres–but even keeping them separate, contained away from one another is…More

Senselessational Beings

“In the beginning was the nonsense….“ Nietzsche, HAH You see those beings there, Up on the peak which still seems profound, Acting all kinds of foolishly? You hear them pounding the ground With gourds and skins, Singing only insensible things? You feel their touch Caressing the space between spaces, Barely never touching? You taste their…More

How, and from where, we look

How, and from where, we look.  From above, at three thousand feet above the town, soaring through the clouds and piercing them with the nose of the great machine we are riding, the world looks wondrous, all the way up to ten thousand feet.  But it’s the clouds that look most wondrous, in their expanse…More

On words

On words.  What’s the word for that time in your life, when you’re trying to get back to where you were, but it takes forever, he asked.  Despair, I said, and he sort of chuckled under his breath.  I guess that’s a good word for it, he said with a lighter tone than was fitting…More


Alive, that means to stretch and have something to stretch. Alive, that means to give the potluck your secret recipe. Alive, that means a combination of steam and fantasy, like clouds. Alive, that means to etch out space out of nothing but space. Alive, that means a dream of the dead, a vast moving showing…More

Scribblings on Eternal Recurrence

Eternal recurrence and our sense(s) of time: It possibilizes a prophetic sense of the future; but isn’t the past also granted a sense of uncertainty, of yet-to-be? * * * Once on a walk I asked each and everything: Do you want this once more and innumerable times more? and I was overwhelmed by the…More

There is no bandage for the wound of nihilism.

It is to our detriment when we think there is. My roommate recently said to me in the kitchen, “I struggled with nihilism for a long time, and I finally got over it.” The philosopher within my psyche laughs, the philosopher within me whose greatest philosopher-friend is Nietzsche who, in turn, made “the overcoming of…More

via humiliatio

The more I love Christ, the harder I find it to laugh at him. The last two thousand years could be seen as a series of humiliations of Christ, who was already scheduled for humiliation while on the earth. As though one round of humiliation were not enough, Christ seems to have been doomed to…More

Nihilism, Grace, & the (In)difference

Nihilism stands at the door. Whence comes this uncanniest of all guests? Nietzsche, F. W., Kaufmann, W., & Hollingdale, R. J. (1968). The will to power. Vintage Books ed. New York, Vintage Books. p. 7 There are many ways to fall. Falling gracefully is one of them.Nihilism stands at the door, Nietzsche said, and he was right.…More

The be(a)st ideas

We might have passed the time when a man or a woman or another gives rise to an idea worth emulating or cultivating, and in that way gives that idea continued life. Now…now every idea is a caged idea. The idea is let out a little while to perform and wave its hands, then it…More

Before we had these things….

What was it likeBefore we had these things?Did we look one anotherIn the face more often,Did we tire of looking into Those searching and foreign eyes?What was it likeWhen we knew the feelingOf the ground beneath our toes,Or of questions askedWithout answers to them in our handsLike cold worms?Maybe it was a dreamBefore, when we…More