And then at the end of the run I am exhausted

These are excellent ideas. I have noticed how much I enjoy watching the sport. A battle with fists is pure. Wrestling is pure. Martial arts. Mountain climbing. I can only imagine these things. The distance running is often too much for me, especially when surpassing the ten mile mark on a 16 mile run. I think of my limits, whether 10 is enough, why I can't just get away with 10 and not 16. Every run I rationalize. Last night after the sitting at the female office job, after the working on the billionaire's project, I somehow ran 8.4 in the dark and in the cold when no one else was there. I told myself I would run 11 miles, but at the end of the third lap my heart grew weary, a cumulative effect of lack of sleep, drinking, and desk sitting, and the 'stress' of putting together a new set of purchase accounting proforma financial statements for the billionaire's project several times a day. He is a man who has his project, and accountants account for his work. I am a scribe. I am scribe in a world of female CFOs and investment bankers. I have my own cube with my own garbage can. I print out photographs of shores of France and Oregon and my screen saver has the distant hills of the coffee covered Andes. I drink whiskey at night and speak to girls stoned. When my body is feeling physically well, women come to me magnetically. It is either easy and fun or I just want to go home. They can sense when I am on. We can interpret this "I should not have gone out last night" contention infinitely. We can erase the existence of the concept of regret and shame, we can say a man transcends these concepts in his greatness and his overcoming, and that only in weakness does he say such things. "No, you got what you wanted as you entered these bars weak and broken, physically and mentally weary and broken. You got exactly what you wanted. You destroyed your chance of racing in the morning and you did not race. This led you to not be distracted on a Saturday morning and to think. It led you to commit yourself to 15 miles. It led you to sit and think alone for the rest of a Saturday and not chase running girls. It allowed you not to win this morning, to hold the chinese-made piece of shit medal or trophy in your hand. It allowed you to buy that ticket to _____, where finally, in 2012, you will go and never return to the country, even for family cancer, even for the bitching and moaning of others."

When I am torn and exhausted and withered and without a hope of a project (as was the foul aura emitted last night), I have no energy, no magnetism, and I hopelessly chase after these worthless creatures. On Wednesday they wouldn't leave me alone as I ate Mexican food by myself at a bar. A girl came up to me with a cell phone and told me I resembled a professional poker player, no here's a better photo. She was a beautiful woman. The waitresses stalked me. They sensed I had a project worth destroying, and the prospect of my destruction was just too damn tantalizing for them to miss. They would risk or welcome pregnancy and heartbreak for the chance to ruin me. I wanted to be left alone. And in my lonely brokenness on a Friday night, just two days later, a night where I just wanted to sleep, I hit the streets with Chrome, exhausted, stoned, incapable of getting drunk. I had nothing to offer and the women sensed it.

In the end these creatures--this 'gender' (how humorous we use this innocuous word to distinguish them)--do not deserve me. In the end we 'get' nothing, there is nothing to 'have.' This is the great funny trick and joke of the matter. A man can't make himself into anything. He doesn't get what he wants because there is nothing to 'get.' You can't own or hold a 'personality,' an accomplishment, some creation. Nothing is there. The moan that the fat french man in WWII with his ontology was some speed-fueled sitter's paradise of transcendence. The fat and short man wrote the book and then said: "ha, look at that, no man can beat me at this game. Even the youthful and strong will obey this escapist ontology."

I have 15 miles to run. A man gets exactly what he wants because his goal is exhaustion and a destruction of all discursive thought in favor of a chemical feeling, a creation from the destruction of the body through distance running. A man gets exactly what he wants in that he will get nothing every time. A derrida play on words, that the secret is that there is no secret. No a man gets gets gets. A man gets, a woman just masticates the getting of the nothing of the having. A man doesn't even want to go into the ring with a woman. She follows him for a biological reason. He is trying to get what he wants, she is trying to insert herself in the middle, trying to tell him that she is either a) what he wants, b) part of what he wants, c) one of the many things he wants, d) part of the process of getting the thing he wants, e) a necessary condition in his enjoyment of the getting of the thing that he wants, d) a necessary condition for the enjoyment and understanding of the having of the thing that he wants.

Yes a man who spars in the ring all day does not have these thoughts. He gets what he wants, in that he has abandoned the pursuit of the getting. He is nothing. This is the overcoming, it is the overcoming of the getting and the having, the reflection on the joke of the 'existence' of the 'past.' This is what the short and fat and chain smoking frenchman figured out. It was a perfect realization for a worthless speed-popping sitter. Greatness is a terrible disappointment, he says, and the women love it--women cling to this ontology of destruction and pessimism. Sartre shows women why it is OK to kill greatness.

A woman may well be the only parasite who has learned a man's language and re-written his language under its own moral code. A brilliant aikido move of morality. Nietzsche focused on the master-slave distinction in morality. He looked at Christianity and Jesus and realized the brilliance of it all--it empowered the slaves, the suffering of the downtrodden. But man, if he had observed what the women were to do 70 or so years later--perhaps they were in the process of doing it--he would have realized that female codified morality is even a greater accomplishment than that of Christianity. Perhaps they stole the entire playbook from Christianity. Is this possible???

What is fascinating is how I am untroubled by the poor 'quality' of my 'writing.' It is akin to saying i am untroubled by the poor quality of my actions, as 'writing' is simply the accounting for the meaning of experience, and if a man's actions are worthless, his writing will be worthless, if his actions are worthless, he will have no insight into anything, especially the worthlessness of his actions. But a great man, if there ever is a great man, is always pushing himself at that last mile, he always hates himself, he is always pushing himself into that new abyss, he is always pushing himself into that new sphere of inconsolable loneliness and solitude, not because he 'wants' to be 'alone,' but because no one can come with him in his journey, no one. He wants to share with the world his experience, his battles, his creations, but it cannot, by its very nature, ever be shared. A great man's life is wretched and he will never find happiness as there is no getting or having. A great man gets nothing. A man, muted and transformed by a woman and her codes and tricks and ploys and disguises--a woman's favorite holiday is Halloween--will get what he wants. She will have slowed the speed of his spirit to the the point it no longer moves. It is at that point she whispers to him: You can have it.


On Thu, Oct 27, 2011 at 4:12 PM, Moraline the boxer wrote:
> this man came to these ideas through rigorous testing. putting a lone
> man into a boxing ring with another man is the best testing ground.
> putting him through all the training for a fight he sees things,
> elements of his character that express themselves. you can hide these
> things in the world of men and particularly in the world of women. but
> in the ring, at the moment of contact with the glove, you cannot hide
> your failings.
>
> mike tyson is a good example of this. he had a defect of character
> that was never corrected and eventually he was exposed. he was exposed
> in the ring. of course he and his apologists will blame his biting off
> Holyfield's ear on a reversion to street life or thugism or according
> to Tyson it was his response to Holyfield's repeated head butts to his
> forehead.
>
> the simple fact was Tyson was trying to escape the ring. he wanted
> out. all Tyson's prior opponents with the exception of Buster Douglas
> (who knocked him out) had laid down to Tyson, been totally
> intimidated. Holyfield stood up to him and Tyson was exposed. His ear
> biting was just an excuse to escape the ring, an excuse to escape the
> confrontation with the failing of his character. as d'amato would say,
> it was what Tyson intended to do all along.
>
> Boxing rather than philosophy or literature is a pure project. you
> cannot escape your failings. you are pushed to a place where the
> consequences are blood and tears and pain and maybe death.
>
> i dont give a fuck about any project that doesnt attempt to get to a
> similar place. any project that does not go as far as boxing can be
> weasled out of. every fucking philosopher or writer is a crybaby and
> maker of excuses: that is what his writing is. he uses writing to
> dodge an element of his character rather than confront it. he doesnt
> like the man he sees but doesnt have the nerve and guts and
> committment to the training that woudl change his character,
> strengthen its weak points.
>
> the purity of boxing is that it forces a man to see his weakness, and
> then asks him to train to overcome it. then finally you test yourself
> against another man in a ring. yes, it is not war or a street fight.
> it is a very controlled test with a referee and judges and a trainer
> who protects you and is there to assist you.
>
> cus d'amato was the greatest trainer who ever lived. nearly up there
> with him is percy cerutty who trained distance runners. however,
> boxing is a purer test of a man than distance running.still, in any
> sort of physical test where there are physical consequences, a man can
> learn of his character. if he intended all along to weasle his way out
> and find a way to secretly quit, then he will do so. if he intended
> all along to overcome, to never lose whatever the costs may be, then
> he will do so.
>
> the results of a man tested are determined long before the test. he
> does not learn in the ring how to undo something he could not undo
> during his training.


On Thu, Oct 27, 2011 at 1:53 PM Saint Maximin, a man among women, wrote:
Terrible quote. He meant to say the outcome is as good as the project. He
doesnt account for the genesis if the project.

On Oct 27, 2011 10:22 AM, Moraline of the lake and forest wrote:
"No matter what anyone says, no matter the excuse or explanation, whatever a person does in the end is what he intended to do all along."

Sitting and thinking

728. Two Macedonian goat herders are on top of a mountain. The master approaches them. “You lazy bastards, what are you doing there, just sitting and thinking?” “We are just sitting,” replied the goat herders.

729. The cripple in his special chair, for the first time in years, wheels himself to the West side of the room. He sees the mountains. Ideas flourish, they are accounted for, they spread seeds of his great exploration to ‘sitters’ and ‘explorers.’ A new paradigm of possibilities is awakened in human thinking.

730. Exploration and sitting, indeed, are dialectically dependent: greatness of exploration relative to what is overcome. A fierce climber who still chooses to sit when his time is up in the chair, when he has had his rest, and he knows it. The cripple who makes it to the West side of the room when others had written him off as a vegetable.