The Kingdom

by James J. Walters

“Tradition is by no means dead, but real danger is imminent. Let there be no illusion about this. The time might come and be nearer than we think, when the ant-heap of society, worked out to full perfection, deserves only one verdict: unfit for men. The nations of Europe have risen together in the glorious period wrongly called the dark ages; a common danger confronts them now. Together they will have to find their way out of this deadly peril and recover the health of their past. The alternative is to accept – as the Nihilists do – deterioration as a welcome event and to settle down in a world repugnant to the deepest instincts of our race. A third solution does not exist”- Erich Meissner

Aside from ‘it’ being an example of control freakery, of a ‘personal interventionism’; and ‘how it’ treats spooks as if ‘real’: a ‘accelerationism’ also suffers from the ‘same conflict’ between Woody Allen and Robert Bresson; that is, that while ‘it’ may ‘lead to self-imploding growth’, as ‘in the anti-capitalist, free trade expectation’; ‘it’ may, conversely, ‘lead to a greater calm’, to a ‘dissolution of performance’, of ‘dramatisation’ – the ‘kind that undermines the fearmongering and/or firestarter propaganda’ of ‘revolutionaries’, ‘failing to subvert the spectacle of feudal order’, the spectre, ironically with their spookish ‘recurrence of enlightened states’. But, again, ironically, ‘how’ might I ‘know this’?…”Nothing”, ‘out of focus’. My generation, even my parents’ generation, do not ‘appreciate’ what I call the ‘continual spectacle carried not just’ by the ideas in ‘our heads’, but by ‘everything’ – as if ‘we know what that’ is: ‘it being’ the ‘blurred sensual non-sense of our specification, our definitions’; to, ironically, ‘streamline it down’; ‘it looks like’, seems as if, ‘the residual musk, smudge of’ Nothing ‘left on our denials of such’. ‘It’ feels ‘like they’ do not ‘even know how’ – as if ‘they might’; ‘it’ feeling as if ‘they’ are sensually ‘crude’, ‘never looking up’ to ‘see’ the stars, the trees, the objects ‘not as objects but as sensations’. An ’emotionalism in its purest’ sense, ‘ignored’, or, rather, ‘blocked out’; perhaps ‘idealised into’ “virtual reality technology” – an ‘escape into a higher definition of’ so-called ‘pre-existing sublimity’, as if ‘requiring qualification’, or, conversely, as if ‘in need of such’. And ‘this’ is ‘partly the fault of Art as a whole, at all times’; as ‘spectacle secluded in the parapraxis of joy, of sadness, of’ so-called ‘accurate representation’ and/or ‘expression’. Rather than sitting, ‘they sit with a purpose’, ‘there always being’ some ‘mission’, some ‘moment to finish’, to ‘be made complete and perfect – consequentialistically, to accomplish an end’. What ‘results’ is “pop art”, as ‘crude awakenings’ to ‘mere sections’ of what? ‘And pushing, approaching, a post-modernism’ (“it is postmodern when the players do not pretend it is real, the audience knows it’s an act, they know that we know, but it continues because the curtain has not dropped”, Ryan Landry), or, rather, some ‘artificial disassociation’. ‘Hence’ why mothers are ‘so important’; ‘they’ are ‘the alarm clocks of love’, and, consequently, ‘homemakers’; because women are the ‘civilisers’ of men: ‘in contrast’, the spookish ‘rationalist’, as if ‘actually rational’, ‘idealised’ as ‘the goal’ at ‘the end’ of some ‘progression’; doesn’t ‘look inwards’, but that ‘just means’ that (s)he ‘never bothers to wonder, wander, about himself/herself’; (s)he ‘never gets angry, nor hateful, nor greedy or vulgar’, but (s)he ‘never feels happy, sad, nor love or right’; (s)he is ‘balanced’, a “point between two opposing forces”, but ‘soulless’, ‘lacking passion, emotion, spontaneity’; ‘hence’, a purportedly ‘rational, secular order’ is a “mere proposition”, unromantic; (s)he has eyes, but ‘lacks sight’, thinking as if (s)he is ‘beyond’, ‘external’ to, ‘perpetually out of touch with’, himself/herself, as if a ‘necessity’, as if ‘social facts’ somehow ‘made out of’ Nothing – as perhaps ’embodied in’ the sexual ‘nihilism’, ‘devoid’ of not just ‘pater familias’, but a sense of familias ‘in itself’, of the contemporary “liberated woman”; and somewhat ‘reflected’ by Trump’s “misogynistic”, “sexist”, comments, ‘being the horror, even the awe, of a subsequently’ unromantic, even ‘idealised’, ‘unfelt but thought spectre of moral decency’; ‘one described as’ “decrepit” and “degenerate”; that people are, again, ‘being crudely awakened to in themselves’. And, ‘hence’, the ‘difference’ between ‘the barbarian’ and ‘the civilised’ is literally concrete: there is, in a sense, ‘two freedoms’; A) the ‘one’ that I notice, action in and of itself, ‘neither undilatable nor undilutable’, ‘neither whole nor part’, ‘both instant and long’, ‘not balanced, but non-balanced’; ‘one’ that ‘just’ happens. And, B) ‘there’s’ also an idealised quasi-‘freedom’, an unromantic spook; but, ‘one that facilitates’. The latter, as if ‘separate’, is, to be ‘quite’ candid, ‘the freedom to be comfortable, to develop methods and devices of comfortability, to live and do in realms of our own design, in situations and circumstances of our own deciding’ – or, rather, to ‘live in’ illusions that ‘sustain action’, ‘passion translated into effort’, and to have ‘such’ faith ‘rewarded’ with the artificial ‘fulfilments’ that ‘we want, ask for’, to ‘live’ as an ‘addition’ to ‘just existing’. In this sense, ‘it’ is ‘the freedom to be a certain sort of creative’, a ‘creative’ not ‘limited’ but feeling ‘like it’s just not done otherwise’ – and, ‘of course’, this perhaps ‘means’ that ‘smudges of’ Nothing ‘on attempts at specification’, are ‘just as truthful, just as useful in making’ life, as it is, ‘bearable, as disowning all illusions, all spooks, in itself’ (a ‘reflection of romanticisation’? Feeling ideas, ‘rather than just’ thinking ‘them’, and, so, ‘them no longer restricting us’; or, rather, ‘the lies we tell ourselves no longer being untruthful’); in the ‘same’ sense as that which is ‘imbued within philosophical pragmatism’, though, is that ‘the instrumentalisation of spooks’? ‘No more’ than picking up my pen and writing is the ‘instrumentalisation of’ Nothing, as if ‘it might be’, as if some ‘certainty, like any of this’, as if ‘that might be wrong, might even be possible, or might not even, thus, be a thing of everything done’. ‘It’ is an ‘accessory’ to the former, perhaps an ‘extension’; rather than, as I used to write, ‘civilisation is barbarism’, I ‘see’ that ‘civilisation grows out of barbarism’; ‘hence’ why ‘imperialism’, I feel, was ‘self-destructive’, ‘imploding’. ‘This leads into how a manorial system of local governance enables’ a ‘total freedom usually reserved for total war’ – as if ‘the total’ is ‘required’: life as it is, action in and of itself, as romantic ‘overflows’ of emotion, ‘remain’; ‘and yet’, ‘the bearing of’ personal responsibility, ‘disregarded when’ called ‘communal’, ’emerges through contrasting the’ illusion ‘with the smudge that blurs into awareness’ Nothing as ‘Nothing’; ‘such a continual spectacle’, ‘briefly witnessed still continually’, and romantic spooks ‘themselves’, ‘enable’ a ‘total creativity’, ‘almost’ as if romantic originality ‘expanded in scope’; ‘through’, what I call, ‘forced choice’. That is, that ‘such brings to bear’, in a very peculiar sense, I feel, ‘the proper sense of that full responsibility, which aids the clearing of’ those ‘same’ illusions, ‘and so the very awareness of’ freedom as in itself without ‘idealisation’/spookishness: in short, ‘bringing to the fore’ what I call the ‘romantic’s burden’.

Nonetheless, though, ‘I feel that I shouldn’t whisk past the question of how’ can Nothing be ‘instrumentalised’? ‘How’ can ‘one grasp that which is ungraspable’? And, ‘by extension’, then, ‘how’ can a spook be ‘idealised’? And/or be unromantic? For ‘then’ I feel that ‘the established order, set of stuff, is fine’, ‘because everything is’ Nothing anyways – apparently, ‘including stuff like’ spectacles, spectres, spooks. Though, why attempt ‘change’ then? Why is ‘any revolution, subversion, enlightenment, movement, etc.’, ‘worth the effort, the passion’? ‘Such thinking, based, unknowably, directly on’ feeling, ‘brands anything but the same as, for lack of less traitorous words’; ‘pointless’, ‘useless’, ‘unneeded’, ‘leading to nowhere’, etc. – even as, again, ‘everything is the same through being’ Nothing anyway (‘meaning’ that while ‘it subsequently doesn’t matter if change is attempted anyhow, as everything is the same, that change itself is pointless, a dead-end, as, equally, everything is the same’): perhaps ‘symbolised’ I feel, ‘represented’ as ‘argued by’ Art, ‘quite’ literally ‘in the journey’ of Louis XVI of France, a ‘social conservative’, and his wife, Marie Antoinette – ‘their lives, their greatness, being a’ Nothing to Nothing, ‘paralleled not just in’ the French Revolution which, unironically, ‘led to’ Napoleon, but also rumours of Louis’ sexual dysfunction. But, ironically, ‘we’, thus, again, ‘return’ to the ‘romantic’s burden’; the same ‘burden’ of ‘romanticising spooks, and so always being in perpetual danger of getting lost in’ Nothing, and so ‘dying’ (even as ‘everything, including ourselves, are’ Nothing), that ‘replicates itself’ in the ‘form’ of ‘civilised freedom’, ‘the oddly logical necessity of having illusions so as to be not just comfortable, but to see through them’ – ‘hence’, “without a hierarchal structure it is not possible to transform freedom from a fable to a fact. The liberal always discovers too late that the price of equality is the omnipotent state” (Nicolas Gomez Davila). The ‘spectre of capital/capitalism’ is thus ‘the contradiction to’ motherhood, the family, ‘association’; again, a ‘divisive politics of greed’, ‘driven’ by ‘the commercialisation, the revealing artificiality, of’ life as it is ‘represented’ by ‘stuff like’ Art, by ‘the specification within an’ unromantic economics; ‘introduced by the subtle yet transformative predominance of money over a regime of land-management’, that is, ‘the predominance of the merchant playing lord’; again, ‘made crudely aware of in our’ so-called ‘post-modernism’: ‘the commodification of nobility’ behind ‘stuff like’ Corbyn’s ‘spectre of the machiavellian’ – lacking the ‘moral decency’ to ‘be anything even reminiscent’ of ‘what everything has tried to pointlessly change’; that is, ‘moral kingship’, feeling ‘the sword of Damocles’. Julius Evola writing, “America…has created a ‘civilisation’ that represents an exact contradiction of the ancient European tradition. It has introduced the religion of praxis and productivity; it has put the quest for profit, great industrial production, and mechanical, visible, and quantitative achievements over any other interest. It has generated a soulless greatness of a purely technological and collective nature, lacking any background of transcendence, inner light, and true spirituality. America (has built a society where) man becomes a mere instrument of production and material productivity within a conformist social conglomerate”: ‘hence’, rather than ‘fascism being the apex of civilisation’, ‘feudalism was’ (though, to call ‘fascism’ a “corrupt censorship”, ‘like’ Zizek, is to ‘apply a misnomer, to accuse something of a degeneracy’, as if ‘lower’, ‘lesser’, ‘as if ‘universally’ so, as if ‘graspable’ in ‘contrast’) – with ‘such’ “vulgar materialism”, as Alexander Solzhenitsyn called ‘it’, perhaps being ‘behind’ Zizek’s ‘own hedonism’; ‘in which happiness is treated along the same lines as desire’, ‘love along the same lines as lust’, even whilst ‘separating desire from desired, means from ends, following Lacan, the psychoanalytic tradition’; ‘and so, separating the joyful suffering of Leidenschaft, and the’ sense of ‘fulfilment it brings, from contentment, from happiness’ – ‘which is not’ some ‘set concept’, ‘universal principle’, ‘law’, etc., ‘but’ is subjective, ‘and so’ oblique, opaque, ‘not’ some “conformist category” as ‘it’ is ‘rationalised to be’. ‘Feudalism being so’, because it is derived directly from the decisive, intuitive order of’ a ‘romanticised’ spook of ‘masculinity’ – and, thus, the spectacle ‘imbued within the fasces’, ‘the military-citizenship brought about by war, the’ Nothing, ‘of not just World War, but total in itself’; ‘overlooked’, because of, again, the ‘artificial disassociation that, even in itself, carries’ spectacle: the spectre of ‘patriarchy’, an ‘extension of civility in itself’, the ‘very ground underneath kingship’; for, “when one strong, civil man exists, savage brutes shy away” – even as ‘the weak’ are just as ‘necessary’ as ‘the strong’, an idea apparently missed by ‘fascism’; for ‘they remind the strong, the powerful, of their strength’, ‘they tell them, show them, the’ personal responsibility that ‘pairs with action in and of itself’ – that which ‘doesn’t go away, but is simply ignored, denied, conveniently forgotten’. Again, ‘the sword’; which, subsequently, ‘exists also as a reminder of how’ control is Nothing, of ‘how’, again, Nothing is non-instrumentalised; and so that a ‘moral’, romantic ‘kingship’ is Nothing, ‘fluidly embodied, non-fluid, non-organised’: ‘bringing me back to’ my emotionally-‘charged’ minimalism ‘in all regards’, ‘the minarchy of such a monarchy’.

A ‘good, morally decent’, man is, thus, someone who has the ‘intention’, the feeling of ‘wanting’, to ‘settle down in’ a family; is someone who ‘respects’, ‘treats well’, ‘the’ women ‘in his life’, and, ‘by extension’, women of ‘the folk’, ‘the nation’, ‘supporting, defending, them, the civilisation’ – even as ‘protection’ may be ‘another smudged’ illusion. He is, as ‘such’, ‘often the vanguard, charging forth or taking a battering’. A ‘good, morally decent’, woman is, thus, someone who ‘shares that intention’; so as to ‘civilise’, ‘support’, man, and, so, ‘by extension’, ‘be’ the ‘backbone’ of the family, of the ‘civilisation’. She is, thus, ‘often the bedrock’. If the women ‘die’, either literally or not, then ‘civilisation gradually crumbles from the loss of its foundations’ – ‘hence’, women, and children as ‘the continuers of civilisation’, ‘must at least be in’ an illusion of ‘safety’, ‘stability’, as ‘they are the spearheads’; if the men ‘die’, comparably, then ‘civilisation will fall rapidly as the walls are smashed down by the beating drums of enemies, of invaders of all kinds’ – ‘hence’, men ‘are the shields of civilisation’, ‘bringing meaning’ to a line by G.K. Chesterton: “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him”. ‘Right now’, I feel, the continent, “old Europe”, is indeed ‘dying’. “But!”, I hear someone cry, “what about equality? Are we not all the same?”: are ‘we’? I don’t know; though, ‘equality’ is spookish, as though a ‘lie we tell ourselves’ as if ‘to escape’ action in and of itself, ‘but’ which is ‘transparent’ – ‘hence’, the ‘secondary freedom’ of ‘liberal democracy’, though ‘in itself’ an ‘idealised government’ trying to ‘administer equality’, arguably trying to ‘intervene in’ Nothing. An ‘interpretation’ of ‘such’, as if ‘representation’, perhaps being ‘in the resurrection of Christ after three days’: that is, (to ‘offer up’ a ‘different view’ to Stirner) that Christ in ‘that moment did something’ that ‘goes beyond, that transcends, transcended, our own capabilities’, I sense, I feel; ‘within the story’, ‘he fully retreated from’ Nothing ‘as death’, ‘as theory’, even ‘whilst being Nothing’: a ‘beacon to follow’, ‘but’, seemingly, ‘never to mimic’ – perhaps ‘because’, ‘de-contextualised’, ‘there is no actual transition other than within’ the story, the “imitative poetry”; ‘no happening from’ Nothing ‘to’…? ‘And yet’, even such ‘refraction’, again, is ‘transparently’ Nothing (that ‘all’ illusions, ‘lies’, ideas, can ‘be truthful’, that ‘they are all’ spookish, ‘they, we, are all equal in’ ambiguity, opaqueness). And, in this sense, ‘he was not just an example of moral kingship’, ‘but’, for lack of ‘more accurate’ words, thus ‘a postmodern one too’: that ‘demonstrated’ the spookishness of ‘the kingdom’, of ‘the moral’, ‘kingship itself’; ‘he was’, for lack of ‘other’ words, ‘in this way’, ‘the smudge on, the transparency of’, ‘our lies’, ‘our’ thoughts; ‘something’ which I feel I can ‘only describe’ as ‘self-enveloping in the undoing of self-enveloping’, ‘for that is the’ so-called ‘nothingness of’ spookishness ‘everywhere’. And, ‘returning’ to ‘that manorial system of government’, ‘that feudalism’, that may ‘make up’ a culturally nationalist kingdom – a romantic kingdom: regardless of some ‘proper governance’, as if ‘anything’ could be ‘central’, ‘controllable’, ‘controlled’, already; what ‘we equally see is the figure of the farmer’, the ‘peasant-militia’, as if a ‘fraction of the military-citizenship, the folk-at-arms’. He is ‘bound to blood and soil through his’ “natural asceticism”, ‘in contradistinction to the’ “rootless cosmopolitan”, being the ‘barometer by which the folk remains attached to not just its traditional lands, but its traditional language, all traditions themselves’, and so ‘the nation’ also: and, ‘in defiance of’ Nietzsche, a romantic kingdom, feeling as if ‘off the top of my head’, ‘would thus be a simplistic, rustic material architecture’; and, so, ‘them also being led’ locally, ‘regionally’, by ‘the lords of the manor’, ‘aristocrats’; being, perhaps ‘nominally’, the ’embodiments of the romanticisation of property’. After all, why bother intervening in…what?

I am disappointed in myself, for, ironically, not reaching more words on this topic. And yet, I would say this (then): to me the reason, as if ‘one’ is ‘needed’, for supporting ‘the kingdom’, is just because it, simply and to be quite frank, is ‘plainly beautiful’. There is no further convoluted, verbose ‘expression’ of how I feel, just that.

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