chivalrous violence is valiant and beautiful. we are noble aristocratic savages.

i want the sacred, the tragic, the beautiful, the transcendent. i see flashes of it in Christianity, but not in the church or the culture that surrounds me

i long for verticality, for hierarchy, the sacred and the sublime. i rage eternally against the horrific HORIZONTALITY of mass culture, the civilizational sickness, the incomprehension and accusation of the hordes. i am sensitive to the numinous, the transcendent, the magnitude and diversity of beauty and power and meaning. you people are gray flat standardized; yuo have been stripped of myth and of glory, you are incapable and unwilling to see the sacredness in form in discipline and beauty in violence creation destruction.

at what cost have we attained the rocket, the integrated circuit, the power to edit dna? we have utterly lost the meaning once known, the dionysian rites, the honorably seppuku, the martyrdom of the jesuits, the romantic cult of the beautiful and the doomed.

worship the body, worship beauty and death and the sun. ecstasy, violence, loyalty, suffering. aristocracy of the mind and being.

minimalism is stupid, maximalists rule the world and are happierr doing so

some days i wish i was born into another timeline.

tokyo in the 1980s; city pop, neon, future dreams still untouched.

or a beach town where the internet never existed.

everything now feels like a replica.

abstraction will save humanity

excessive and habitual profanity is a sign of extremely low agency and intelligence

acreciti is now a cyber-aquatic monk with solar panels, an amphibious Nietzschean mystic

sunrise water check.

feed shrimp.

tinker with sensors.

read esoteric philosophy in hammock.

roast jungle fruit, train body, write manifesto.

no neighbors within earshot.

wind chimes and shrimp bubbles.

temple garden with gravel, moss, and maybe a fish shrine.

one katana. not for use. just in case.

i reject sameness as a moral ideal

I’m cutting my way through a thicket towards new and secret gardens of my own design. And when we get there, at the heart of that garden, there’ll be nothing but beauty. (john bowden)