Prometheus, the stolen fire, and meaning
taken from I, FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM: a soul's soliloquy, from early writings by Jack Haas: this is a rare, online book
Prometheus may have stolen the fire, but I made off with the bomb. I severed the bonds by which I was uselessly tethered to this earth. I slayed the last of a dying species by debunking plausibility, and disproving without proving.
I uprooted the Tree of Knowledge, and then burned the fruit with the limbs for a pyre.
Indeed it is time to purge the cloaca of our fetid concepts; time to cauterize our septic meanderings; time to euthanize obsolete symbologies.
Let me tell you, after all I have seen, and all I have unseen, I now preen conception from my mind like a baboon picking squirming gnats from its own knotted fur; I gnaw upon the mind's maggots.
I simply want to erase everything and to start anew; to smash the blackboards, and throw away the chalk. Life indeed is a more genuine mystery than it is a common fact.
I am no coward of the mind, I will not cognitively submit to agreeable notions. I unknow the world ...defiantly.
A genocide of cerebrations; I massacred ontologies and pillaged their existential remains, ruthlessly exterminated ideas, hacking my way through the barricades of false emancipations.
There is no heroism, only a war that never ceases, and soldiers that never die.
You see, mine was a distorted illumination; like the blinding light of the sun, bouncing off the lightless, light-giving moon, did I rise up in the night of our being, and shine forth despite my perpetual darkness.
I, now become eye- Eye took man's whole being away with a single malicious observance. I shredded all the papers, and there shall be no cut and paste class.
Allow me these hollow victories.
Oh, give me your greatest edifice, man, that I may with innocence knock it mercilessly to the ground.
I did not come to take part, but to take apart. Nobody can tell me what life is, not after basking in the brilliant glow of unfathomable wonder.
Mine is a ruinous decomprehension. I devoured facts, and excreted mystery.
Sacrificing to get rid of, not with intent to gain, I did not cauterize, I severed. I unrecognized being in a fanatical moment of destructive non-interpretation.
An animal of mind, I am ferocious in wild honesty. I am savage because I am free. The blood of meaning is on my hands.
Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.