Update: Very Rough Version is Online!!!

I am beginning to realize just how poor a medium the Internet is for human emotion, and beginning to question my attachment to it. Questioning if it made me this way, or if I was this way all along. I honestly cannot remember. I am severely detached. I remember events with precision. I remember in exacting detail a look someone gave me at a party, body movements, the feel of a touch, but rarely dialog. More often than not memories are just symbols of the deep meaning I take from the completely meaningless. If I do recall dialog its usually just the general sense of the conversation, although under certain occasions I remember in exacting detail the tone, the pattern of breath, every last detail of what was said. These are the moments on which I base my life.

Lately there are days where I put serious thought into becoming an Alaskan fisherman. Its completely senseless, I would be lucky to survive a day, but the harsh work in the minimalist environment provokes some kind of primeval need deep within me, something sitting in a desk typing for eight hours a day just isn't doing for me.

Well my father is having heart surgery tomorrow, and I am majorly stressed at the moment. Times I feel like this I used to draw, and it was what I consider some of my best. More and more I find my self heading to bed rather than embracing the anxiety for what its worth, and doing something with it.

This is going to sound completely insane, but I miss the depression of unemployment. I miss the creativity it caused. Now that I am gainfully employed, and am not in complete desperation for social contact, I have dulled.

I'm heading to Japan in about a week and a half, I get mixed signals from you on Paul taking the hint. I hope though it will mean huge growth for me as a person, as it will in fact be the not just the furthest, but the longest I've been away from home. I'm homesick already.

Your Friend Always,
Jesse Gordon Donat

As for the few remaining writers, a new version of the Obloglog is heading nearing completion, and you'll be able to post again fairly soon, I can get anyone their login info who needs it.

I'm arguing with my self over if I should, and which rich text editor to use. I built one based on a friend at works, but it has some flaws.

This isn't quite what I had planned, but it is certainly a stepping stone to better things. If anything the new database will empower us to do a lot more. There are several design elements in the works, certainly some art-deco-ing. A prettier footer, and integrating a search box into the header.

Any way about it, things are going to get fixed. I realize I forgot about Omnipresence when my widget broke, hehe. That'll be fixed soon.

This film was the polar opposite of the first which I reviewed a little over a year ago. Whereas the first was artful and creative with its character construction, they knew with this film that the characters were already built our and despite being put into very straining situations there was very little character growth. Heck, the whole play of how the number 7 connected the two Nana's was almost completely avoided, although I imagine some could argue this is a good thing.

One of the oddities of this film is of the six main characters, three were played by different actors than in the original film. I honestly didn't even notice, save the fact that I was wondering why Ryuhei Matsuda's character had received such a bit part, as he was one of the larger focuses of the first film. This was why I did some research and found out that it wasn't even him. They do their best to mask this by hiding his face for most of scenes he is in, often having his back to the camera, or more creatively having him reading while wearing a baseball cap.

This film, in stark contrast to its predecessor, is largely a series of unfortunate events and ends on an exceedingly sour note. The climax of the film involves the happy go lucky Nana finding out she is pregnant. Having recently dumped the guitarist from Trapnest (whom she only sought in a moment need) for the guitarist from BLAST who genuinely cares for her, she is uncertain which is the father. The guitarist from Trapnest (Takumi) offers to marry her, and after some reluctance she agrees. She moves in with him just in time for him to leave on a 6 month tour. While Trapnest gathers outside, the lead singer makes a comment about how Takumi has a wife in the UK, though this fact is never again mentioned. At the end of the movie, Nana cries while holding the other Nana, realizing she has ruined her life.

When the credits rolled I was genuinely surprised, expecting some kind of at least semi-happy resolve.

Not only for the massive change in direction, but the genuine lack of style which the other film pulled off fairly well, I have to say this film didn't even come close to living up to the first film. I was genuinely disappointed in this film.

As I've told people with the original Matrix, if you liked it, don't see the sequel, the same applies to this, unless you enjoy seeing characters and concepts you've grown to like being terribly abused.

"I seem to be addicted to something that doesn't really exist.
I have embarked upon withdrawal
and I am very fearful of what the withdrawal symptoms will be."

This has been the mantra since I left high school. Religion is a powerful thing and a powerful thing to be with out. Religion is a natural absence a void. Religion ushers creation into being. This is why I am the way I am here. I lack nothing. I, precisely and there is no over stating this, lack nothing. I lack this void, this view that there holes that need filling, or at least I have lost most of the things that used to remind me. Now I have the ideal that we should all be able to know each other (or at least a few of us could know each other). I seem to have lost hope in it, maybe not completely but the meat of it is gone and the bones are brittle. I falsely remember what was. I remember studying film and books and the night. I remember actually being forced a few times a day to be social, though I'm not sure I remember it fondly. And I remember talking, really talking, frequently. That frequency is no longer frequent, it is some static value and, as such, holds no value. I seem to be drawn towards what was (or what I convince my self what was). I'm too obsessive about such things and I fear how these obsessions make me look. I often fear you'll be jealous because she is in my dreams more often. Though I've known you to be stronger and more understanding then that, I still fear it to be true. It's a real shock being here now. Gross's mom said once that all I have ever done was talk and I guess thats strange but thats how I lived for years. Then after grade school I didn't get enough so I turned to books, movies and Andrew to fill the void. . . the Religion I had been all but excommunicated from. Of course this is after being gloriously depressed and starting the cultivation of my (self-reliant/anti-social) tendencies. I learned to wait in jr. high. I found that I could destroy my self with thought, that enough of it would make me ill and that I still preferred it to some people. . . they made me ill too. And after high school it all happened again. It was her again the high-priestess herself excommunicated me this time by handgun and by bloodshed was I excommunicated. Despite my will I could no longer pray in that church. I had no time to, and no willing brothers and sisters. And I can't look back for fear of losing what little of me is normal and turning completely to salt. Not to say I don't dream of it, half (and only half) unwillingly. But that is how we got to talking it was her again. It's always her that knocks me so fantastically off guard and who has convinced me to drop my guard entirely. . . Not that I've managed to implement that conviction. And all my work has done me so little good. It allows me to be wounded by those would-be brothers and sisters who I would give everything for and who seem to have no more then a passing interest in me. And so be it! 'So be it!' I chant again and again. Excommunicated and shattered what else is there to chant? Somewhere I have a brother and I have you. But I still lack that void, I need to be reminded of my Religion and those reminders are few. Sex is one and I hope that doesn't sound crass. But like all too many things there is more in it then there seems to be for other people. The future it rolled up into it and there is something tantric in it. A slightly false religion to be sure but not completely without merit. So forgive me my masculine transgressions because they are few to begin with. Most people have a hard time thinking of me as anything but sexless. Sex is nothing, precisely nothing, and conveys want almost without target for me. So forgive me if I seem depressed or distant. I am void-less and drifting and without Religion. But I am OK I have you, my love who will read my rantings and hopefully understand the sentiment among all the misleading words.

Any feedback is welcome!

6/10/2007 Jeff Forshée
“The Dark Broadcaster.”

I never feel like walking around at night here. I always used to back home. Why am I such a failure as a person? Other people can get along to some degree. From the vary begging though I’ve only been kin to people who turn to drugs, who are just generally unknowable, who are cold, or who (in my mind) have committed acts of horrible violence. The few I’m left with are not enough though I am truly thankful. . . For both of you. . . The night sky seems to hold only sorrow for me. . . Maybe it would be different if it weren’t framed by my window. I won’t find out for awhile its hard to drag myself out side. . . No one interests me out here, they seem hollow. . . Maybe I make them hollow. They don’t seem to think like me. I’m sick of always being the only one of me in a room and I wish this didn’t cause me to think I’m better then these people. How many words do you speak a day? You know I said something to the TV today and then felt horribly depressed. . . It was the third best conversation I would have that day. If it weren’t for Brittany I wouldn’t speak at all. I might through my voice out giving a four minuet speech next week. Even the few people remind me of people I’ve already failed with. I’m not even sure I’ll leave the apartment this weekend. I miss real summers until I think about how it was never really all that much better. People always left me alone never asked me to do anything. . . But I guess that’s my fault. Everything I learned I learned too late. Catholics have it easy you know? I’ve been stumbling around for years and haven’t found anyone new to confess to. If I come down will you have time for me? Or will we push things off like always? God I miss the discovery and the night. Up here all the alternative seem worse then the loneliness I have now. I can’t even cry up here. What’s the point. My emotion has no affect on anyone up here. . . I’m just broadcasting into the darkness. . . As I was born to do. . .

Miserably yours,
The Dark Broadcaster.

6/10/2007 Jeff Forshée
“Someone is receiving.”

Dearest brother,
Someone is receiving. Even when we think we are playing to the night sky, broadcasting into the darkness, someone is receiving. What a glorious revelation, dearest brother. My frequency is much higher here. The highs and lows move quickly. Here I do not dwell, even if I am grief-stricken and joyous in turn I dwell on neither. Maybe some day I will learn to be so perfectly alone, but when I see you next we should raise a glass and hope that skill will be of little use. And raise another to our silent brothers and sisters, both known and unknown, whom we wait for and whom we hope for. Know that someone is receiving, dearest brother. All this force of hope has to go somewhere. Last night I was crushed. My morbid fantasies got the best of me. In my mind I had lost her. . . She was gone. I saw my self at her funeral, dearest brother. I asked “Do you even know who you lost?” not understanding why the world hadn’t stopped. I cried last night in a fit of psychosomatic sorrow. I felt all 150 square feet of my apartment close in on me. I didn’t know what to do I couldn’t weep and I was still unhinged by this imagined grief. At one thirty in the morning I stared at the ceiling with that pain you get in your chest when you cant quite cry and the phone rang. It was her. She couldn’t sleep. Life is the greatest parable, dearest brother. I heard her voice and for a moment night was night again. I talked to her and the sound of each other made us both feel at ease. Even alone as I am, in this plastic night, someone is receiving.

Your brother,
Who Sees Perfection In Coincidence.

This movie reminds me a lot of Install, but it’s a far more serious, far more Korean version.  Lately it seems that South Korea is pushing out far more decent film than Japan. 

This movie starts out with two Japanese school girls, one of which is prostituting herself, and the other one managing the money and getting her men.  They plan on going to Europe, and there’s an undertone that there might be something more there, that they may be in love.  This is indicated at least to me  when Jae-yeong tells Yeo-jin that she thinks she’s in love with one of the Johns, Yeo-jin becomes increasingly Jealous.

Yeo-jin makes Jae-yeong promise not to fall in love or even learn anything about any future Johns and Jae-yeong reluctantly agrees. The next day they go out to the next man, Yeo-jin is supposed to be standing watch for police, but she gets distracted by a man bugging her, and the next thing she knows she sees officers running into the apartment.  Jae-yeong, with nowhere to go decides to jump out the window.  She falls,  lands flat on the ground.  Covered with blood she orders Yeo-jin to carry her.  Yeo-jin runs off with her on her back to a hospital.  There we are told they’ll be lucky if she makes it the night. 

Jae-yeong demands to see the John she was in love with before she’ll give them her parents phone number.  Yeo-jin runs to find him, only to find he refuses to go unless she’ll have sex with him.  She crys and reluctantly agrees, thinking of her friend on her death bed.  When they finally get to the hospital Jae-yeong is already dead. 

This sets forth the plot of the rest of the movie, whereas Yeo-jin in an attempt to understand Jae-yeong, decides to return the money to Johns, and in the process have relations with them.

It should be noted that her father starts out as the perfect single parent, making her breakfast and encouraging her to do well in school, and this is as much a study of the affect on him as the effect on her.

Her father notices her actions, and rather than stopping her, doesn’t let her know he’s on to her, and takes action against the Johns, with increasing levels of violence, first just breaking a bottle and telling the guy to get lost, to humiliating them in front of their family (which they subsequently commit suicide) to out and out murdering them.

It’s no masterwork, but it’s on par with Oldboy for the new kind of Korean ultra violence though not in such a quantity.

Visually, there’s one scene that really struck me and I’m uncertain if its on purpose or not, but her father pulls a car off a side road onto a highway, and there are maybe 3 arrows point left, and he turns right.  The scene lasted maybe 10 seconds, but it was practically silent and something about it just struck me.

Also, this firm features what is certainly one of the worst night filters I’ve ever seen.  I had assumed she somehow ended up underwater until I discovered what was really going on.

One last note, her father is a Christian, so I’m uncertain if they’re trying to say something with that or not, but he’s always talking about Miracles and such.

Hopefully next review will be on the new review system I’ve been building, which should allow us to review almost anything.

The end is certainly bitter, I won't say much more than that, just that despite my feelings that the film was mediocre I certainly don't regret watching it.

Man am I happy I checked digg today. Not only are thoes pigs in all senses of the words going to jail, but two of the three are charged with no less than:

"felony murder, violation of oath by a public officer, criminal solicitation, burglary, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and making false statements"

Man this makes me smile. Not only did they plant marajuana there, but they murdered a 92 year old woman, and they're going away for a long time. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Paul. Straight from the article:

"I'm sorry," the 35-year-old said, his voice barely audible. He pleaded guilty to manslaughter, violation of oath, criminal solicitation, making false statements and perjury, which was based on claims in a warrant.

So one of the three gets manslaughter, other two are looking at murder. Awesome! For once, some good news to put on atimes.

I think we’re as close now, despite any physical distance, as we ever were; I’m a hard person to know, certainly.  I think events to me have deeper meanings to me than most people, possibly because I have so few. Having a job and being around people has certainly helped settle my restlessness, but its still there.  I’m no advocate of organized education either; I believe it has a more of a uniform-ing, dulling effect on a persons mind than anything else.  That’s not to say I don’t like education, it’s just that I prefer self-education.  My job is basically PHP and MySQL Did I learn either of those at Brown?  Didn’t touch them.  I learned those from my own endeavors.  For Oasisband.  Joel has certainly made a huge impact on my life.  Its strange how searching shoutcast for “They Might Be Giants” and stumbling upon a station called Edogg can change the course of a person’s life so drastically.  He’s hosted Oasisband graciously for years now.  He’s been there whenever I had questions, logical or philosophical.  It was he responding “Learn PHP” to my bothersome “I’m Bored…”’s combined with him giving me my internship that no doubt got me my job.  How can I repay such a man?  That bugs me actually. 

This next thought I’ve been meaning to get out there for a while, but didn’t have a proper medium, so I figure now is as good a time as any.  I’m not happy unless I’m sad.  When I have no reason to be down, I don’t know what to do with my self.  I’m not sure if it was the stress or the vicodin or some combination thereof, but one of the strongest memories I have are the few weeks after I got my wisdom teeth yanked in September of 2004.  There was such a strong sense of hopelessness; I had been shipped out to the middle of nowhere, all my friends scattered around the country, I hadn’t been accepted into any of the schools I applied to and was getting yelled at constantly by my mother about it, and to top it all off the constant physical pain.  It’s just a part of my life I think about every single day.  The only up side to it was we still had Voom then.  I miss Voom.  It’s strange.  I used to love Aqua Teen.  I watched a few episodes yesterday on DVD before I went to sleep, and it did nothing for me.  I literally sat there thinking “How could I have liked this, its stupid” They made the same joke three episodes in a row, where meet wad just wanders off, then says “Staring:” some random movie star as though it were the title of a movie.

I still dream of High School.  Its for this reason I’ve bought all this Penny Arcade memorabilia, the books, this cup, the shirt over there.  Penny-Arcade to me represents something to me.  A good time in my life.  My mind connects everything though.  I connect Mountain Goats with Chipolte with Oblivion all because of that day after Gross’s appendix blew and you guys came to my house.  Its crazy too, where there are no connections, my mind needs connections and draws false ones. My verbal memory is fantastic actually, one of the best things I have probably, and I can remember almost every IM conversation I’ve ever had. My brain though doesn’t connect these to where I was at the time, but rather I for some reason connect completely unrelated places.  There are many conversations I had on AOL back in seventh and eighth grade that for some reason my mind has connected with West Jr. Highs library.  I can think of several right now that are connected with that small section of Paul’s House between the stairs and the Pool Table.  As I stated though earlier, everything means something to me.  Not in the crazy sense of someone else I know, but in more of a crazy sentimental way.  I take deep meaning from Parties large or small.  Most of the things I’ve bought on my spending spree of late, excluding the DS and Games, have been more for sentimental value than actual want/need. 

Well I’ve rambled on enough for now I suppose.  I always feel like an egomaniac when I write these… Its all I I I, Me Me Me…  I’m really the only person I know though.  I feel as though I should mention you more, perhaps we are drifting. I haven’t mentioned everything I wanted to, but its getting to the length where if I hadn't written it I might not read it, so it’s a good point to end.

Your Friend Always,

Jesse Gordon Donat

Adobe is terrified at the prospect of Photoshop becoming genericized.   So much so they actually released this insulting sheet (Thanks for the link, Alek) [link] on how the term “Photoshop” can and cannot be used.   I quote now from this sheet

CORRECT: The new features in Adobe® Photoshop® software are impressive.
INCORRECT: Photoshop's features are impressive.

“Trademarks must never be abbreviated.” Do they honestly expect people to say Adobe every time they refer to Photoshop?  What right do companies have to control how we refer to its products?  Could I make a product whose name took half an hour to pronounce, and then be upset when people don’t bother to use its full name?  This is completely ridiculous. 

As a side note I’ve been meaning to write a post for a while now on how Copyright should be subject to genericide.  Lets look for example at the Birthday Song.  It was copyrighted in 1935 and not set to expire until 2030 (thanks very much Sonny Bono). Anyone who had any legitimate reason to gain from that song will be, and probably already is long dead. You have to admit that the song is part of our culture.  How can someone own and profit from our culture?  That’s just wrong. I argue that when something becomes part of the culture, part of how we live, and so common that a thought is never even given to where it came from, its copyright should be null and void.

Secondly and even more pointedly, it’s a 4-line song, 3 of the lines are identical.  How can that even be copyrightable?  It’s literally a copyright on two sentences, one of which is missing a word i.e.: Insert Name Here.   There should be a minimum length on what is copyrightable. How can you copyright that, it’s a common saying.  If anything has ever been disserving of ridicule, this is it. 

Time Warner, it is your turn to step up to the plate.  Don’t be a dick, let “Happy Birthday To You” go.  Uhoh, I just posted 3/4ths of the song by saying the title, fuck... Its in quotes though, I should be fine.   Thoes of you curious to the full lyrics can find them here: [link] .

One final note, this is the first Oasisband post of 2007. Heres wishing this year be better than last! Godspeed.

Pros: I love the dashboard, not only can you listen to your own music at any point during a game, but its actually somewhat intuitive. The 360 can finally rip music off burned CD's which was a major reason xbox 1.0 never really saw much use as a music player. The Controller is comfortable as heck, and the wireless thing is really nice and so far the battery life (the wireless controller uses 2 AA's) has been great, but I'm probably going to invest in some rechargeables. All in all, I do like that Microsoft decided to use AA's instead of some proprietary battery, far cheaper and easier to replace them that way.

The graphics are great, I've played Gears of War and the graphics are a deffinete step up from xbox 1.0, ps2, etc. Not only does the console have plenty of speed, but loading times are minimal compared to xbox 1.0. I also like the fact the 360 will have an add-on HD player, because i don't have or need HD-dvd, nor do i want to spend another $200 for one.

Cons: The HD is a bit small, while 20 gigs seems like a lot for a console, once you start ripping your own music onto the thing, it starts to pile up. I'm not anywhere near running out of room yet, but I can definitely see it happening to those with more impressive media collection. I'd like to see either a larger HD available, or an adapter allowing you to use a regular computer HD which would see storage capacity limited only by the size of the HD's available. I'd also wish they'd left the start and select buttons where they are on the xbox 1.0 controller, never realized how nice it was having them to the side till now. While in general I do like the dashboard, it'd be nice if you were able to customize the button settings for entering information. It'd also be nice to be able to fast forward and rewind within songs.

Nitpicking: I wish the controller was just a tad larger, like the size of the S controller that is standard with xbox 1.0, It's not that the controller is too small to use, but would be nice if they beefed it up just a bit.

BBC article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6212430.stm

The Eternal Recurrence

“Two paths meet here; no one has yet followed either to its end. This long lane stretches back for an eternity. And the long lane out there, that is another eternity. They contradict each other, these paths: they offend each other face to face: and it is here at this gateway that they come together. The name of the gateway is inscribed above: ‘Moment.”
“All that is straight lies,” the dwarf murmured contemptuously. “All truth is crooked time itself is a circle.”

This excerpt from Zarathustra is Zarathustra’s first encounter with what he and Nietzsche will later to refer to as the eternal recurrence. What is incredibly interesting about this section is that not even Zarathustra, the one who is great heights from the rest of humanity, is able to understand the message behind what the dwarf, the proclaimer of the recurrence, is trying to say. Zarathustra is unable to hear the eternal recurrence and he tries to dismiss it, he feels that this dwarf is a bad omen, preaching to him something terrible that must be rejected. The Dwarf explains to Zarathustra, that time is not a linear pattern, a history with a beginning and end. But rather time itself, is like the Overhuman, in that it is a process, in which we must both engage in this process as well as accept it. But at the outset, though, we can see that Nietzsche realizes how difficult the eternal recurrence is, and is probably admitting that he himself, although presented with the notion many times, was not at first able to understand it. Thus, the readers must be very careful when trying to understand this philosophy—it is one so delicate, yet intricate, that we can not afford to mishear Nietzsche when he speaks of the eternal recurrence.
The eternal recurrence effectively serves as the opposition to hedonism and nihilism in a world without repressive, dogmatic morality and the absence of God. Richard Avramenko argues that once Nietzsche created the eternal recurrence as an opposition to repressive notions of truth (specifically, Christian notions of truth), there becomes a large void. In Avramenko’s essay he is specifically referring to a void of friendship in that Nietzsche effectively denied any sort of ground in which friendship can form. As Avramenko says, “The whole of Thus Spoke Zarathustra can be understood as Zarathustra’s quest for a type of friendship that can grow out of this groundless ground.” I agree with Avramenko here that Nietzsche both created a void with the eternal recurrence and also tried to fill that void with the recurrence. So, when Nietzsche chooses to deny the conceptual truth of good and evil, it leaves a huge vacancy for what humans should do. Nietzsche fills this void with the eternal recurrence. The idea is that every action, or every way that we live our lives will occur over and over again, eternally. This serves as Nietzsche’s beyond-morality moral system—if we are truly able to joyously say ‘yes’ to every action we take, then we are headed towards the overhuman. Essentially then, the eternal recurrence serves to give a path for humans to try to become the overhuman—to understand the process of subversion and creation, which is the overhuman, without falling into nihilistic despair.
As Avramenko points out in his essay, the eternal recurrence is not exactly something that westerners are easily able, or even willing to accept:
“With the declaration of the eternal recurrence, Nietzsche is introducing uncertainty and unpredictability. It would thus be better to refer to the eternal recurrence as a flavor. It is a flavor for which we must develop a taste. The eternal recurrence, as Nietzsche well knows, is a tough pill to swallow and this is precisely why he calls it ‘the greatest weight.’”

To begin with the notion that time is anything but linear is problematic for the Western ear. Avramenko places Nietzsche in a debate with Augustine who argues, referring to cyclical theories of time, “even when it [the soul] has attained wisdom; it must proceed on an unremitting alternation between false bliss and genuine misery. How can there be true bliss, without any certainty of its eternal continuance?” Augustine’s reaction to cyclic notions of time demonstrates a very Christian and western understanding of how time functions, and furthermore, a reality that is dependent upon having God and a heaven to obtain when time has ended for a specific human being. Yet obviously, Nietzsche rejects the Christian morality and God himself. Not only is Nietzsche creating a philosophy to fill his ‘moral hole’, he is also directly responding to and refuting typical Christian understandings of time, existence, and ‘right’ action. The eternal recurrence seeks to dislodge the authority that Christians have assumed and display a direct contradiction of it, both to fulfill his own philosophy and to engage in irony. To argue that Nietzsche believes we need to authoritatively accept his eternal recurrence and abandon the ‘inferior’ Christian notion, is completely outside of Nietzsche’s project. Instead of choosing one over the other, Nietzsche asks us to develop a taste for the eternal recurrence. Whether or not the eternal recurrence is ‘true’ or ‘better’ is of no real consequence, but by developing this taste, or ability to hear the recurrence, we are able to see the ironic nature in all human things and head up the mountain towards the overhuman.
The eternal recurrence serves not only to disrupt a Christian notion of time, but it also serves to disrupt any sort of linear, rational, or higher truth. The eternal recurrence renders it impossible for there to be definitive truth or a values system that transcends time, space, geography or even relativity because the eternal recurrence exemplifies a system with no actual truth, but rather truth as a process, something that must be constantly created and destroyed in order for the elimination of repressive notions of truth, and leave the Dionysian, or the positive, liberated aspects of mankind in their wake. Truth, value, and morals can not be habitual or long-lasting under this system; as the Earth itself does, they must be always changing, engaged in a process of creation and destruction—plate tectonics. In the Genealogy of Morals Nietzsche warns us of any words that do not take part in this process of creation and destruction because they will try to lead us to single goals, aims or meanings. “The whole surface of consciousness must be kept clear of all imperatives. Beware even of every great word, ever great prose! The organizing idea that is destined to rule keeps growing deep down . . . it prepares single qualities and fitnesses that will one day prove to be indispensable as means toward a whole.”
After looking closely at these words and trying to understand what they mean, we now must ask the same question that Nietzsche asked himself towards the end of his second essay in the Genealogy of Morals, “What are you really doing, erecting an ideal or knocking one down?” And Nietzsche responds to this question:
Have you ever asked yourselves sufficiently how much the erection of every ideal on Earth has cost? How much reality had to be misunderstood and slandered, how many lies have had to be sanctified, how many consciences disturbed, how much “God” sacrificed every time? If a temple is to be erected a temple must be destroyed: that is the law—let anyone who can show me a case in which it is not fulfilled!

With this we can now look at the rhetoric of Zarathustra and Ecce Homo and look for the subversive and ironic process in which Nietzsche tries to both create and destroy systems of values, truth, rhetoric, and inquiry. But we must listen closely, and dissect with delicate fingers as to not try to find the new idols and ideals that Nietzsche is creating, but to look to see how he moves outside of the truth-game altogether. Nietzsche’s divergent rhetoric is arguably the most difficult part of Nietzsche’s works to truly understand, but by not understanding this essential quality of Nietzsche, it is not possible to hear Nietzsche.
Before we move away from the fundamentals of Nietzsche’s words and concepts, and move into his rhetoric in general, we must take into account the Overhuman and the Eternal Recurrence and their affects on language in general. For Nietzsche, language can have no transcendent truth, but truth in language is similar to the Overhuman and the Eternal Recurrence in that it is able to obtain some form of human truth through a process of creating and destroying. Essentially then, language is not transcendent, and as Tuska Benes argues, it is only adequate if we forget that we created language and that we created truth. “Accepting the illusion that words referred to things allowed early humans to live in mutual trust. The invention of truth thus had ‘pleasant, life-preserving consequences’ Society, however, had thereby exchanged a set of lies for the truth.” So with a language that humans have created they were able to become social creatures, they could move away from, repress, basic primordial desires. But for Nietzsche, this conversion from the base creature to the social creature brought with it inherently negative, inherently repressive, and inherently forgetful forces. In the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche allegorically compared this social change of human-creatures “well adapted to the wilderness, to war, to prowling, to adventure,” who had to repress those instincts to effectively live socially to sea animals coming out of the water who had to “walk on their feet and ‘bear themselves upright’” —the skills that the sea creatures had developed for marine life became unnecessary. This shift from primordial language to a socially ‘meaningful’ language helped humans to adapt to their new surroundings, but it also meant that humans forgot that there was no truth, and instead believed that the truth and language that they had created was somehow transcendent. “Faith in truth depended for Nietzsche on a process of forgetting. People had to deny and repress the actual origins of language in order to believe in the accuracy of its representations.” Society, today as we see it, is fundamentally established on the fact that we have forgotten that we have created truth, language, and god, because “acknowledging the rhetorical foundation of words would have automatically destabilized the edifice of truth built upon them.”

Works Cited

Avramenko, Richard. “Zarathustra and his Asinine Friends: Nietzsche on Post-modern, Post-liberal Friendship.” American Political Science Association. Chicago, Annual Meeting: np., 2004. 1-30.

Benes Tuska. "Language and the Cognitive Subject: Heymann Stienthal and Friedrich Nietzsche." Language & Communication Vol. 26 Issue 3/4 (Jul 2006): 218-230.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. On the Genealogy of Morals. Trans. Walter Kaufmann. New York: Random House, Inc., 1967.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra: A Book for None and All. Trans. Kaufmann. London: Penguin Books, 1978.