#1

A knock at my door. Who may be so bold as to break the night’s rest at this ungodly hour? The eternal void never was such present in my life. What could be the sense of this fleeting lifetime compared to the eternal Nothing lying ahead of me? Lifetime – Eternal – Nothing: Mere philosophical gibberish. An answer to all of this never was farther away. Overwhelmed by the unknown, I breathed my last.

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Image ©: Last breath

Mystifying horror

Judging from the European literature that I’ve read in translation, mystification is less an obstacle to enjoying an author’s works, whereas American readers are drawn to more obvious examples of generic horror, which are mostly in the form of lengthy novels. E. T. A. Hoffmann’s “The Sandman” is an excellent specimen of mystifying horror. It can be read over and over again and not lose its original power, precisely because it is permanently mystifying and doesn’t give away the secrets of its effect on the reader. Poe’s and Lovecraft’s stories have the effect of mystification that may be found in the works of such eminent Western and Eastern European writers as Gogol, Kafka, Witold Gombrowicz, and Dino Buzzati, among many others.

~ Thomas Ligotti ~

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© / Image: The Tales of Hoffmann
© / Interview: Born to fear

Dear me! Why this blog?

As measured by the statistics so far, this blog is a nonstarter. So what motivates me to come here and write? One reason is that I’d like to share my thoughts and interests with others. For me this blog could be something like an advertising pillar where people run past, take a short look or stay for a minute.

Due to my wearing of many hats, this blog has no direction – it sort of reaches in all directions. Therefore you may not find any golden thread here. My interests reach from non-standard thinking (Laruelle), Buddhist philosophy, weird literature (Lovecraft, Poe et cetera), science (cosmology, evolutionary biology, neuroscience) to whatever crosses my way.

It seems to be part of my character not to be able to stay with one thing. Perhaps that’s the reason I think and write in snatches instead of pursuing a university education. So what you will find here are text fragments written by myself (e.g. ‚The morning I went mad‘), text fragments from folks I admire (e.g. ‚Ligotti and Walker in duet‘), links to interesting musicians (e.g. ‚Current 93‘ to come) and so on ad nauseam.

Inspired by François Laruelle, my contributions function as performances alongside the Real. They will be deviant, comical postures, obscene gestures „…practiced behind the Master by the court jester or Harlequin to create a new effect.“

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Image © The Last Feast of Harlequin

Ligotti and Walker in duet

NOBODY IS ANYBODY

Nobody is Anybody by Thomas Ligotti

Those of us who reside in the Unholy City,
who sprouted out of the blackness of an old root cellar,
or sprayed forth like dark ashes from an unclean chimney,
Those of us who are permanent citizens of the Unholy city,
are neither angels nor demons
Although we are sometimes called upon to play such parts,
for the purpose of some game that has been going on since the world began,
acting out our roles in a drawn out, intricate stage show that we will never understand,
or ever care to understand.

Nevertheless, we are really not so different from the tourists who sometimes visit our little town,
and sometimes stay with us forever.
Who are also born of the same blackness that we were, as everything was.

Still, there is one respect in which we, the inhabitants of the Unholy City,
diverge from all others in this world,
who are so caught up in the game that is going on,
who identify so completely with the parts they have been given to play in the stage-show universe,
that they actually believe themselves to be somebody or something.
We, on the other hand, suffer from no such delusion
We are nobodies.
We are nothings
And even to speak in such terms may be claiming too much for ourselves.
Which is to say that we are just like everyone else, or they, without ever knowing or suspecting the true facts
Are just like us…

© Thomas Ligotti / AA Walker