The Overman: Modern Life Exegesis
Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 9:47 am
Species evolution doesn't necessarily lead to a better creature; in fact, we are proving the contrary.
"Homo Sapiens Sapiens"? I don't see all this wisdom. The modern man contorts himself in a frenetic, nagging and full of moral values routine.
We decorate ourselves with material assets that manage to do nothing but make us skew our eyebrows.
We should be tired of ourselves.
And here is it, on the left: the modern man, uncomfortably sit on a sofa, doing something with his (switched off) computer: probably he's checking the latest stock exchange news. His undone tie is his only sign of freedom: his shoes are grinding down his feet, his shirt oppresses is lungs and his pants (with a nice crease, of course) suffocate his legs. His situation is so irrecoverable that he can't even be compared with the worst drug-addict.
The Sofa. Yes, the sofa is the common point between the modern man and the ubermensch (on the right). This kind of overman (but it's not just that... he is not just over any other man... he is over everything) is free, and without his rags he has nothing left to demonstrate to anyone.
He is completely conscious that with his own legs he could run 100 miles without feeling any pain and he could climb the highest mountains; he even knows full well that with his own arms he could create amazing things and play (just to make an example) a 48 hours tennis game. Why not?!?
But it's obvious that just knowing this all is more than enough for him. Yes, because he even understands that doing any action would mean losing all the original fascination for the same action.
So he takes refuge in an atavistic state of no-action, getting rid of his verb and of the prophet who lives in himself.
Slouching on the sofa, he understands very well all its functionalities. But don't deceive yourself: he doesn't care. He is tempted by existance, and the book on his hands ("The Existance Temptation") shows it. Yes, but he always ends up extirpating all the meaning of its words, without even taking a look at it.
He just needs to watch at the infinity, at everything and nothing, to keep laughing about the fake and uncontrollable existance surrounding him.
U Tso'otsoob Bola'ay
"Homo Sapiens Sapiens"? I don't see all this wisdom. The modern man contorts himself in a frenetic, nagging and full of moral values routine.
We decorate ourselves with material assets that manage to do nothing but make us skew our eyebrows.
We should be tired of ourselves.
And here is it, on the left: the modern man, uncomfortably sit on a sofa, doing something with his (switched off) computer: probably he's checking the latest stock exchange news. His undone tie is his only sign of freedom: his shoes are grinding down his feet, his shirt oppresses is lungs and his pants (with a nice crease, of course) suffocate his legs. His situation is so irrecoverable that he can't even be compared with the worst drug-addict.
The Sofa. Yes, the sofa is the common point between the modern man and the ubermensch (on the right). This kind of overman (but it's not just that... he is not just over any other man... he is over everything) is free, and without his rags he has nothing left to demonstrate to anyone.
He is completely conscious that with his own legs he could run 100 miles without feeling any pain and he could climb the highest mountains; he even knows full well that with his own arms he could create amazing things and play (just to make an example) a 48 hours tennis game. Why not?!?
But it's obvious that just knowing this all is more than enough for him. Yes, because he even understands that doing any action would mean losing all the original fascination for the same action.
So he takes refuge in an atavistic state of no-action, getting rid of his verb and of the prophet who lives in himself.
Slouching on the sofa, he understands very well all its functionalities. But don't deceive yourself: he doesn't care. He is tempted by existance, and the book on his hands ("The Existance Temptation") shows it. Yes, but he always ends up extirpating all the meaning of its words, without even taking a look at it.
He just needs to watch at the infinity, at everything and nothing, to keep laughing about the fake and uncontrollable existance surrounding him.
U Tso'otsoob Bola'ay