Having a beer with Bob

I don’t wish to quibble here but if the music lessens the torture, it may still be just purgatory. At some point we walk out of or escape purgatory. Mythologically speaking, hell is eternal.
Losing a loved one can seem like a hell for awhile, no retrieve, but at some point even that pain becomes abated. Yes, it may linger on forever and a day but it doesn’t necessarily have to be “hell”. But it can be a teeter-totter effect.

I also thought that you might be referring to Bob from this forum. I’m glad that you have someone in your life to share some beers and good conversation with, Ierrellus. That’s important.

The songs do not purge; they simply make thinking a bit more tolerable.

Hello Irr,

I am having a cheap Lambrusco after having abstained for to days, which is a record for me. I wish i had You, insteD OF BOB, TO SHOOT THE

BREEZE WITH, opps my words went capital for some strange reason.

As far as music as an expurgative is concerned, i
have a date with Kathy , my cousin next year in
Budapest to hear the ring cycle, of Wagner, and that for me , at least causes a complete meltdown. At that point, i agree with him, that his contra Nietzche,
makes sense.

It is only my life long fascination and reverence for
Friedrich, which comes back to Charles Ives’ Eternal,
and unanswered question.

Later

Bob and I are Christians, hence not too fond of the mad anti-Christ ravings of Nietzsche. I’ve read several of N’s works and was duly impressed by his aphorisms and lyrical style of writing. He broke with Wagner over “Parsifal”, a Christian work.
I would have liked to have talked with him, maybe over a good German beer. Did he go mad, or was he just misunderstood?
Old time religion bathed in beer–that’s Bob and I. We are saved from madness!

It’s hard to say / There is serious contention by some professionaks that N was really mad. Others think he feigned it for very severe politicaly sevre causes, that only pleading insanity could possiblyn some of the pressure.

But, in the same token, some others think Christ was mad, and both of them have been analyzed ij absentia.

Others’ still, the surrealist,panter Salvadore Dali, was thought to be quite mad, until a famous psychoanalyst thought he made it uo to increase his popularuty. But then he was self admittedly mad, as he was admittedly created an art of it, in fact a method to it.

Lastly, there is an interesting side line to this madness concept, and that is the undertow of it, that to avoid it, some groups of really bad and mad people getting together to get rid of the hostility and madness, by acting it out in the gtpip channelling of this anger, and realising it’s awesome energy.

One thing is certain, supressing it, does cause madness in the real sense, by the internalization of the guilt over the self-blame and destruction of the self esteem angry people feel, when they can not act it out, channell it, or some how get rid of it.

To turn the other cheek is this very madness, which only the truest of souls can bear. Crucifiction is an overcomng in the negative sense of how Nietzche thought about it, the madness is overcome both internally and externally.

The next round is one on me.

I like Dali and Kafka. Both have shown that much of life can be surreal. I don’t think either was mad in a clinical sense. Both used creativity to overcome life’s irrationality. I wonder if the creativity owed to wine or beer? Or if creativity acts as a sedative?

Both Dali and Genet were irredeemably and effectively schizophrenic prior to their attachments/accomplishments, their saving grace, coming about to rescue them…In the case of Genet, he had to be sainted by no less then Sartre, and had to have his murder sentence commuted by the French Academy to avert life in prison. How divided a soul was he? Chist’s divided sould, his self crucifiction is not so obvious, but Nietzche, the ant-Christ had a lot more tools to play with, as far as presedence. Madness for Nietzche is a tretch, half mad maybe.

Bob’s and my conversations do not get deep into philosophy or literature. The beer finds us on a gut level of life with losses. Country music used to play to that; it doesn’t anymore.
The old joke goes–I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy. :smiley:

duplicate

well sounds good, Ir, casual leit-motif, me, last night i wannabe honest, out like ligthing with moonshine, almost as devastating as white ligthning, really wanted to slap myself on the back, reeeeel hard, but my arms didn’t go around my torso, couldn’t reach it.
guess, condemned to a sort of kts kind of depth, into the dungeon. -but it’s ok, snce it’s all the same, really, they meet in the virtual world, ----which is as real as the original, hence i am assured. (the devil made me do it)

“Malt does more than Milton can
To justify God’s ways to Man.” —A.E. Housman
Steer clear of the white lightening, my friend. I say this from the few brain cells I have left.

duplicate

Yeah, true as they claim, but here is one not of Housman’s caliber but meaningful all the same, by Ref Leppard:

"No promises
No guarantees
When you come down here

 You're already a junker
  You wanna ride white lightning
 You just sign your name

  If You wanna dance with the devil
   You gotta play his way

…Thanks for the advice, Ir on the effects of 100 proof, or any booze, it’s only medicinally advantegous in times of the incomprehensibly, and unavoidably the only, and the last solution. Beer, then only chases the dreams left.
A bard once sang thus: ‘Loose Your dreams and you will loose your mind’.

At that point, not compensating, is worse then that, it is death; of the soul.  The late Allen Ginsburg once said, 'if You drink, drink at home, alone.

I mostly drink alone in my home. It’s a good way to cope with ILP. :smiley:

duplicate

Right on! Except when Bob is around.

The often unbearable condition of I-ness craves companionship.

Yes, that myopic ’ eyeness’ may be a cause of, or conversely, be caused by none such companionship, agreed.