#Existencialism

[unspokenmantra]

Philosophy - Dmitry Kochanovich, 2019 (1st) Oil on canvas, 100x120cm

Ideal - Dmitry Kochanovich, 2019 (2nd) Oil on canvas

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

The Bear is Kierkergaardian in nature

Written in an Austenian structure.

Let's always keep that in mind, please.

Hence, a happy ending for Carmy that depends on the choices he could only make once he finds his true purpose (leading with the ❤️), is the only possible closure to this existential story.

That is the "What will happen", and IMHO it's not up for debate.

What we can debate about is how will it come to be. Sure!

Due to the foreshadowing Storer gave us in 3x7, or what I call the Legerdemain ep, I think it will happen like this or something along these lines:

There is no version of the story where Sydcarmy doesn't happen.

Whether Storer will give that endgame the airtime it deserves, is a whole different argument I don't wanna have until I see all the promos and teasers. The crumbs they released this week are only the tip of the iceberg, I need more to rule out the Lalalaland ending I fear sooooo much and that is absolutely in the cards, unfortunately.

But as I always said, I will settle for ANY variation of Sydcarmy endgame, even Lalaland. That being said, we, truthers, have an ace up our sleeves. If you wanna know all about it please tune in to our UNDER THE TABLE SYDCARMY PODCAST

next Sunday 16th and find out exactly what I mean by "a Lalaland ending" 🤮 (the extended version) and what is our strongest line of defense against any Lalaland curve balls Storer could throw at us. Don't forget the final draft of the series finale is still in the WR and the final 2 eps of S4 HAVE NOT BEEN SHOT YET.

We've got this.

[bookinng]

El hecho es que nadie mira la religión de la manera en que lo hacemos nosotros, la gente atemorizada. Porque estamos excluidos, abandonados, asustados de todos; y ¿alguna vez hemos imaginado que alguien nos echa una mano? Las personas atemorizadas se convierten, en algún momento, en más creyentes que cualquier cristiano. Dirán: "No soy un creyente. No puedo decir que lo soy" y, sin embargo, rezarán y rezarán y rezarán y pedirán respuestas; no porque tengan una mayor cantidad de fe dentro, sino porque necesitan a Dios, y lo necesitan más que nadie.

[sweetlullabyebye]

Dead Poets but as philosophic stuff because I'm desesperately trying to learn this shit and nothing is sticking to my brain:

Neil: existencialism, specifically absurdism. Basically, life has no meaning, so you can either accept it or not. There is no greater goal or anything. Includes thinkers such as Camus or Sartre.

Todd (mostly at the start of the movie): determinism, which is kind of the opposite of existencialism, since the idea is a 'everything was planned out before and you cannot change it' type of mindset. It excludes freedom of choice, since your decisions have very little impact over everything. You're just in a boat in a storm and you have very little control over anything.

Charlie: hedonism, which is the pursuit of pleasures and the avoidance of pain. According to this idea, you'd take action depending on how much pleasure or pain you'd get from it.

Cameron: utilitarianism, or acting in a way to maximize happiness for the biggest amount of people. Includes philosophers such as Bentham or John Stuart Mill. Examples of utilitarism could be: if you were a train conductor and you had to either

stay on tracks, do nothing and hit a group of people that were on the rails

change your trajectory and instead hit one person

what would you do? Well according to utilitarism you would change trajectory, as it would benefit the greatest amount of people.

Meeks: rationalism and consequentialism. Tbh I don't really understand rationalism, but from what I know, its basis is that reason is a source of knowledge and stuff. Consequentialism is interest in the consequences of one's actions; realistic consequences. So before you act you think of the consequences kind-of-thing.

Pitts: solipsism, according to which the only thing that exists for sure is the thinker. I don't really get how it's different from Descartes 'i think therefore i am', but so solipsism would mean that you can only be convinced of your own existence.

Knox: idealism; reality, perception, ideas etc are all linked, and ideas represent a reality. I didn't really listen during this part of the lesson tbh -which is why I have to revise now using things like this post-.

Mr. Keating: stoicism; accept that some things are out of control, and act in a way so to do right by others and stuff. A stoist philosopher was, for example, Crysipus, who died laughing at his own joke.

Chris: eudaemonism, which is similar to hedonism, except that happiness is seen as a logical finality and it's basically a fact that most people want happiness. So it's happiness instead of pleasures that is pursued, with philosophers such as Epicurus.

Mr. Perry (not a Dead Poet but the only person I could think of for this): deontology, which is like a set of rules around duties and obligations, and has as a goal to preserve future generations. Idk he doesn't totally fit deontology but I had no one else in mind. Anyways I hate Mr. Perry and I hate learning philosophy.

[senhoreu]

Em momentos diversos do passar de nossa existência somos defrontados por estorvos que, quando não mata ou fortalece: desfalece; ao menos durante algum ínterim indeterminado. As circunstâncias da vida nos torna mais atento aqui, o zelo mais aguçado ali, cuida-se, assim, da árvore com toda intensidade possível. Ainda assim há dela necessitar de algum cuidado do qual não temos habilidade ou ferramenta para zelar. Ela degrada-se aos poucos, uns frutos surge adverso, o casco desprende-se e numa tentativa de salvá-la: adubamos, nutrimos do imediato necessário. Porém, sua finidade acomete o sujeito da dúvida: "O cuidado não fora suficiente? Em quê fui deficiente?". Embora se compreenda que há forças maiores do que o sujeito, e que as adversidades, quando historicamente construídas, venham já determinadas, isso não impede dele esmorecer e imputar-se: "Por que assim?".

Fonte: Heronides Câmara, Esmero. XXV.III.MMXXIV.

@senhoreu

[stormingjales]

these are some books that i've bought recently. expecting lispector and camus of me should be common sense by now. and of course, literary theory. 🤍

[mundo-sem-pirralhos]

A MAIOR INJUSTIÇA É NASCER NESSE MUNDO, E TRAZER MAIS PRA SER INJUSTIÇADOS, AINDA BEM Q NEM TODOS NASCEU NESSE MUNDO, SORTE SAO OS Q FORAM ABORTADOS, E OS Q FORAM EVITADOS DE VEREM A LUZ DO DIA ATE SUA MORTE! SEM VIDAS, SEM ESCRAVIDÃO!

[blueneptunes111]

Im going back to school this week and Im actually exited to. I have been questioning if the mundanity of waking up every morning to do the same routine keeps me numb to my overthinking, I have recently tried to give a more healthy approach to the emptiness and weirdness of existence that doesn't lead to a depressing ending. Im still learning to do so but I think im getting somewhere. But the truth is nothing makes sense in this stupid universe. I often question whether animals feel the same way, or why we're humans given the intelligence to know about monstrous things like the universe and space, while still no knowing what relationship we have to it.

anyways, let me know if this resonates ...

[ablueorangeintheocean]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

T. S. ELIOT

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

 In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

 The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

 And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

 In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

 And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —

(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —

(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

 For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

               So how should I presume?

 And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

               And how should I presume?

 And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

               And should I then presume?

               And how should I begin?

 Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

 I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

 And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

 And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

If one, settling a pillow by her head

               Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

               That is not it, at all.”

 And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

               “That is not it at all,

               That is not what I meant, at all.”

 No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

 I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

 Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

 I do not think that they will sing to me.

 I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Source: Collected Poems 1909-1962 (1963)

[stiftest]

siempre hay un furro que te gusta y te asombra

[blurrymerzsblog]

Human condition.

#laconditionhumaine #traumnovelle #surrealart #conceptualart #contemporaryart #nonlinearnarrative #motionart #motionartist #videoartist #mentaltheater #eXistenZ #zeitgeist #enter_imagination #traumA #doubleexposure #melancholia #weltschmerz #monochrome #documentingwomen #visual_art #visualpoetry #raisondêtre #lartpourlart #artagainstcancer #lidijacommeça

[notfeelingthyaster]

daniel molloy, do you miss interviewing louis now? do you miss his schizofrenic ass? do you miss the plain old dubai penthouse and mental games? because you're now in serious danger of dying through weaponized glitter

[dumbass-diary]

So a post goes around here I believe from writing prompts blog about the guy in a fantasy setting who doesn't believe in magic and thus it has no effect on him. (also credit to guitarbeard for a similar idea - don't want to be accused of stealing ideas now)

Imagine playing that in dnd. It would be so delightfuly broken.

Only use in joke campaings.

Spellcaster enemies would be powerless against me. But at the same time no healing from allies, no magic items functioning, not even healing potions (just water that tastes like strawberry). No boost spells like haste, bless or even guidance. Even +1 weapons probably won't function. Basically you could only play martial a martial class. Not even monks because they have Ki. Also it is as if you turned on hardcore mode, because if you die, no revivify or anything. And i you make your death saves you need a good old fashioned 8h recovery before you even get concious.

I also came up with a variant, so you don't fucking die as easily. Once you go unconcious, magic starts working on you (why? I'll explain later), but that means all magic. If you get hit with fireball for example, you fucking die.

Now a little phylosophy and why does this actually work.

When asked, the character explains. "It is not that I don't believe in magic. It's just everybody else that believes in it. Let me ask you this, how do you think the gods got here? See, everybody belives gods created us, but what if it is the other way around? When humans encountered natural phenomenon they couldn't explain, they thought that a higher being capable of such feats must exist. Through this belief they reinforced the existence of such creatures and thus they did exist. Don't believe me? Do you know of any god that exists without aomeone believing in them? No. Why? Because they cease to exist once nobody believes. That is also how your magic functions. Everybody just belives waving your hands in the air and muttering some old language bullshit makes stuff happen and thus it does - for them. See, will is something i can believe, and that will is what truly manifests and affects the surroundings. But once you realise this, that enviroment gets changed just because somebody believes it will, you can no longer take it seriously. Like, oh you think a meteor will hit me just because you want it very much, how cute, come and slap me in the face if you really want to hurt me. This is why you take damage from hostile fireballs and I dont. Don't you see? You are not taking fire damage, you are taking psychic damage. But this is also why yours and enemy's magic items function around me. Because you all believe it.

You may think "then why do you take damage when a fire elemental punches you?" Simple. The "magic" part is only the concience of the elemental magicaly holding physical fire around him to use as a body. But that fire is very real, not magical. If I was an elemental I would cease to exist because i couldn't do anything to hold my body together.

Then how would you explain magic working on animals? First of all, animals don't have the concept of will so they can't realise that what is happening to them is bullshit. They have will but not the concept. Second of all, even if that wasn't the case, it is humans who unconciously decide that it works on them. We believe animals to be mentally bellow us and thus it doesn't even cross our minds magic couldn't function on them. And because we believe that, it does.

But the plot twist is, he is fucking wrong. And right at the same time. (this also covers any holes in his logic)

Magic is actually fucking real and should work. But he is right about will being a strong force in the universe. You can see that in people who were on the verge of death but chose to survive, even in real life. What he doesn't realise is it is his will that makes magic not work on him. He is actually the only one in the world who believed something so hard it becams true, not the others. And he is blissfully unaware of it.

Something will only damage him if he believes it will. (this covers any holes, like if someone summons a meteor to hit him. the magic is only the process of summoning the mass, but the meteor is physical and should by all means kill him)

Work with your DM to decide what he believes will and will not hurt him. Also decide if the part about gods is true or not or to what extent in the context of your world.

I consider this my magnum opus.

[rubynrut]

[a-book-of-pleas]

A Meaning

As I pour my coffee in the morning,

I’m still trying to find meaning to my life.

As I get dressed and catch the bus,

the morning is cold and a stranger sits next to me.

I’m still trying to find meaning to life.

I buy a warm and comfy sweater at a sale,

the lady talks warmly to me, it’s sunny,

and I’m not worried about looking pretty.

Still, I’m trying to find meaning to my life.

I walk my dog, I take out the trash, I cook dinner.

My lover is watching TV as I set the table. My mom calls me,

and asks me to hang out on Sunday.

I sit down after dinner, and I ponder over my unread book. 

I’m still trying to find meaning to my life.

My lover kisses me, sweetly, goodnight.

It tastes like a wound; I know it mine.

Life is my puzzle and repeatedly, everyday, it drags on like a long workday.

I am still looking, then, for its meaning.

But maybe I’m looking too hard, and too far,

and I can’t see what’s next to me.

I can’t see that, now, there’s nothing to be found.

[stormingjales]

[dear bird,

protect me.

the fall is too high. catch me.

i'm not ready to fly. eat me.

in your inside, take me.

don't leave me, so i can live in you.

see through you

what i can't be

be for two, for we, for i

and drown deep above

[in the vacuum.

jales.