Die Ballade der Esoterischen Poeten

Wh i t  e   S  P     A       C   Space E




W o

ho h l

ke i ne 
idee außer konventionellem
t          o
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e SPACE    v

     Zwischen       Räume
    Zwischen

B          t
           i
B          o

Rau      m n
n           s
e            b
              r
Ge             u
                c
                 h    danken

Pau

SO EINE GEQUIRLTE 
KACKSCHEISSE SO EIN
UNSINNIGER SCHWACHSINN

Se

Gedachter Dank.         E 
in be twe   ee
 eee 
ein ei     ne    ee ine  e  nee nee  en. 

A           blank          space.                In 

ter

twin   P

im       R

end        E

Wor          T

ds              E

te                N
ding to be  creative

                     T

Me                    I   an       

der                    O

             towards    U          ing


free                create  S   
FUCKING BULLSHIT
              I       

  vit           a           wh       y

F A K E D E E P

Frag

me                n

Tier

te   


G e h
FORM UND ABGREDROSCHENE PHRASEN
d a n k m e m e
SIND LEICHTER ALS INHALT UND ECHTE POESIE
e n

FICK DIE FAKER LIEB DIE HATER
Wenn man kein echtes Thema hat wird man halt meta.
Und wenn dass dann noch zu dumm ist versteckt man
halt den halben Post. 
Tolle Leistung. Haben wir alle sehr drüber gelacht.
Und nun is Feierabend hier.

d                e

Das Weiße Buch

Thus literature (it would be better, henceforth, to say writing), by refusing to assign to the text (and to the world as text) a „secret:“ that is, an ultimate meaning, liberates an activity which we might call counter-theological, properly revolutionary, for to refuse to arrest meaning is finally to refuse God and his hypostases, reason, science, the law.

— Roland Barthes, The Death of the Author

Was weiß ich über das Weiße Buch? Das Weiße Buch ist ein Gegenstand, über den man nichts weiß. Es ist ein Buch; das zumindest ist der allgemeine Konsens. Doch Umfang, Autor, Erscheinungsjahr, Genre, Gattung, Art der Bindung, Sprache und sämtliche weitere Eigenschaften sind unbekannt. Manche bezeichnen es als den sinnlosesten aller Gegenstände, da es sich aufgrund seiner Undefiniertheit niemals mit irgendeiner Art von Sinn füllen lässt. Manche lehnen seine Existenz aus diesen Gründen schlichtweg ab. Der Leser mag sich zum Schluss selbst eine Meinung darüber bilden, doch lasst mich zunächst von vorn beginnen.

Das erste Mal begegnete ich dem Weißen Buch vor etwa einem Jahr, als ich eines Abends in den Weiten des Internets prokrastinierte. Dies geschah häufiger zu jener Zeit. Meine Freunde verließen nach dem Studium die Stadt, begannen zu arbeiten oder begannen ihren Master an einer anderen Universität. Sie brachen auf und ich blieb allein zurück (und flüchtete mich darüber in der folgenden Zeit in meine Bücher und das Internet).

Gefangen im undurchschaubaren Netz aus Links geriet ich an jenem Abend auf einen obskuren Blog. Dessen Texte riefen, aufgrund des harten Zusammenpralls von Können und Ambition, ein unangenehmes Gefühl zwischen Mitleid und Fremdscham hervor, und einer dieser Texte handelte von der Entdeckung des Weißen Buches. Die Geschichte kann ich leider nicht mehr rekonstruieren. Wegen des Umzugs, der noch dazu bei heißestem Sommerwetter stattgefunden hatte, war ich müde und schenkte meiner Lektüre keine große Aufmerksamkeit. Tatsächlich wurde ich erst später wieder an den Text erinnert, als ich Luise kennenlernte und so dem Weißen Buch ein zweites Mal begegnete. Interesse, so viel weiß ich noch, weckte der Text in mir durch das Nichts, das aus dem Buch in die Welt des Erzählers einzudringen schien und diese so schließlich auflöste.

Doch, wie gesagt, vergaß ich den Text wieder, bis ich einige Wochen später, der Sommer hatte sich in einen trüben Herbst verwandelt, ein Plakat in der Stadt sah. Es hing geduckt zwischen Graffitis an einer grauen Wand und warb mit dem Spruch „Geschichten aus Tlön“. Die Referenz auf Borges entging mir nicht, vor allem, da ich seine Werke zu jener Zeit zum wiederholten Male las. Doch wer sonst würde die Anspielung auf ein imaginäres Land aus einer Kurzgeschichte eines bald dreißig Jahre verstorbenen, argentinischen Schriftsteller verstehen? Allein zur Klärung dieser Frage entschied ich mich zur Lesung zu gehen, die durch das Plakat beworben wurde und noch am selben Abend stattfand.

Tatsächlich war die Anzahl an Besuchern, die es sich in den Kinosesseln und Sitzkissen des kleinen Theatersaals gemütlich gemacht hatte, sehr überschaubar. Der Raum lag im Halbdunkel, allein erleuchtet von den, auf die Bühne gerichteten, Scheinwerfern, die eine wohlige Wärme von sich gaben. Schon während des ersten Beitrags dämmerte ich in eine wirre Traumwelt hinüber, in die die gelesenen Worte wie groteske Kreaturen eindrangen, um Chaos und Unheil zu stiften. Ich kann daher leider kein Zeugnis darüber ablegen, wie sehr die vorgetragenen Texte sich mit Borges und dessen Werk beschäftigten. Erst zur letzten Leserin erwachte ich wieder aus meinem Halbschlaf. Sie wurde als Luise Sorgebjorg vorgestellt und anstatt von Tlön zu lesen, las sie einen Text über die Erfindung des Weißen Buches.

Der Text handelte von Sebastian, einem Studenten, der eines Abends, in geselliger Runde mit ein paar Freunden, eine Epiphanie hatte. Sie saßen in der Flurküche ihres Wohnheims als er die Eingebung bekam, ein Buch, das sie nicht kannten fortan in einen Schrein zu sperren und als Reliquie zu verehren. Die Küche des Flures besaß ein kleines Bücherregal, in dem sich allerlei Groschenromane, antike Kochbücher und eine koreanische Bibel befanden. Durch ein komplexes Verfahren, wählten sie eines, aber ohne genau zu wissen welches, der Bücher aus und plazierten es in einem alten Karton, der als Reliquiar diente.

Nach ein paar Tagen des infantilen Spaßes wurden sie der Anbetung überdrüssig und Sebastian überlegte, wie sie weiter mit dem Buch verfahren sollten. Er verfasste eine erste Abhandlung über das unbekannte Buch, in der er über dessen Inhalt spekulierte. Die anderen schlossen sich dem rasch an und es entstand eine Reihe von Texten, die sich alle dem Buch auf die ein oder andere Weise näherten. Sie bildeten eine Geheimgesellschaft, um die Texte über das Buch zu mehren, von der sie jedem, der es hören wollte, freimütig erzählten. So entstand das Weiße Buch.

Da sie nicht wussten, welches Buch genau Gegenstand ihrer Überlegungen war, wurden die Texte immer freier und ungezwungener. Am radikalsten war Sebastian, der jede Form hinter sich ließ. Für ihn ging die sprachliche Freiheit einher mit der geistigen Freiheit. Jede schriftstellerische Konvention die er brach, wurde von einem Bruch in den Konventionen des Denkens begleitet. Seine Texte wurden, so wie er selbst, immer erratischer. Jegliche Referenzpunkte schienen sich aufzulösen bis er sich schließlich selbst auflöste.

Alle waren erstaunt über das Verschwinden Sebastians, auch wenn sie in rückblickender Betrachtung sich einig waren, dass es vorhersehbar gewesen sei. Er hinterließ nichts als einen riesigen Wust größenteils unverständlicher Texte, die dennoch in jeder Hinsicht als revolutionär zu bezeichnen waren.

Nach dem Verschwinden Sebastians entwickelte sich ein Kult um seine Person. Er habe das Weiße Buch verstanden wie kein zweiter und daher gelte es, ihm und seinen Texten nachzueifern, verkündeten seine Anhänger. Sie erhoben Sebastians Texte zu einem Kanon und schrieben neue Texte über sie. Gegen diese, die eine herausragende Stellung Sebastians unter den Anhängern des Weißen Buches befürworteten, stellten sich jene, die eine Besinnung auf das Buch an sich forderten. Schließlich zerstreuten sich alle über das Land und Luises Text endete.

Es war eine absurde Geschichte, eine glänzende Parodie auf Religionen, die mich faszinierte. Nach dem Ende der Lesung suchte ich Luise auf, beglückwünschte sie zu ihrem Text und fragte, woher sie denn ihre Idee genommen hätte. Sie zeigte sich kurz angebunden und erklärte, es sei alles wahr. Es war klar, dass ich keine ernsthafte Antwort erhalten würde und ich schalt mich, ob meiner unbeholfenen Frage. War nicht die Frage nach dem Ursprung eines Textes die nichtigste, offenbarte sie doch den erbärmlichen Versuch, die Komplexität eines Textes auf einen banalen Kern zu reduzieren? Ohne Mut für ein weiteres Gespräch zog ich von dannen.

Am selben Abend suchte ich im Internet nach weiteren Texten von Luise Sorgebjorg. Ich fand sie auf den unterschiedlichsten Websites in großer thematischer und noch größerer stilistischer Bandbreite. Mir war schleierhaft wie eine Person das alles hatte schreiben können. In den nächsten Wochen und Monaten las ich immer wieder Texte unter ihrem Namen und gelangte allmählich zu der Erkenntnis, dass sich hinter dem Namen nicht nur die Frau verbarg, die ich bei der Lesung gesehen hatte, sondern ein ganzes Kollektiv.

Mir bot sich die Gelegenheit meine These zu überprüfen, als ich den Namen Luise Sorgebjorg ein zweites Mal in einer Ankündigung las. Eine Kneipe um die Ecke, die erst vor einem halben Jahr eröffnet hatte, und die mir schon durch die regelmäßigen Jazzsessions bekannt war, lud zu einer poetischen Lesung und Luise war unter den Teilnehmern aufgelistet. Am Abend der Lesung war die Kneipe recht gut besucht, sowohl von Stammgästen — soweit man bei einer so jungen Kneipe davon schon sprechen konnte — als auch von Gästen, die wegen der Lesung gekommen waren. Ich setzte mich an den Tresen, Alex die Barkeeperin reichte mir mit knapper Begrüßung mein Bier und dann wartete ich darauf, dass die Lesung beginnen würde.

Die dargebotenen Texte waren mittelmäßig bis gut und häufig vom üblichen Slammergestus geprägt. Gespannt wartete ich auf den Beitrag Luises, der, endlich an der Reihe, von einer Gruppe revoltierender Wäscheständer handelte, die sich gegen die Menschheit erhoben. Es war kompletter Nonsens, aber äußerst lustig und unterhaltsam. Nach dem Ende der Lesung wurde es noch ein feucht-fröhlicher Abend. Gäste und Lesende tranken zusammen und ich erhielt die Gelegenheit nochmals mit Luise zu sprechen. Sie schien sich nicht an mich zu erinnern und nach kurzem Smalltalk sprach ich sie auf das Weiße Buch an. Zunächst wollte sie nicht darüber sprechen, nannte es eine alberne Angelegenheit, doch auf mein Bitten begann sie schließlich zu erzählen. Luise Sorgebjorg ist in der Tat ein Pseudonym, unter dem mehrere Personen schreiben, die sich alle der Idee des Weißen Buches verschrieben haben. Das Weiße Buch war, so erklärte sie mir, von einer Gruppe Studenten in den frühen Siebzigern ersonnen worden, die dem poststrukturalistischen Geist ihrer Zeit folgten. Zunächst als Spaß erdacht, begannen die Studenten bald es zur Grundlage einer Dekonstruktion der Wirklichkeit zu nutzen. Sie suchten Gleichgesinnte, besetzen wichtige Posten in politischen und medialen Einrichtungen und schrieben Texte auf der Grundlage des Buches. Luise erklärte mir, dass es heutzutage kaum einen politischen Text, einen Gesetzentwurf, ein Parteiprogramm, einen Richterspruch, einen wissenschaftlichen Aufsatz, ja sogar wenige journalistische Texte gäbe, die nicht vom Weißen Buch zumindest beeinflusst seien. Der Gedanke schockierte mich. All die Texte, auf denen unsere Gesellschaft fußte, sollen auf nichts anderem aufbauen, als den Vermutungen über ein Buch, dessen Existenz nicht einmal gesichert ist. An jenem Abend ging ich mit schwerem Kopf — vom Bier, wie auch von den Enthüllungen Luises — nach Hause.

Am nächsten Morgen und auch an den nachfolgenden Tagen und Wochen bis heute lassen die Gedanken an das Weiße Buch mich nicht mehr los. Zunächst war ich bestürzt über die Möglichkeit, dass alles, was ich bisher für wahr erachtet hatte, allein den Hirngespinsten irgendeines Schreiberlings entsprungen sein könnte. Luise hatte mir Namen und andere Hinweise gegeben, die auf das Weiße Buch hindeuteten. Als ich begann zu recherchieren, übertrafen die Ergebnisse alle Befürchtungen. Das Weiße Buch ist überall. Ich las Texte und entdeckte seine Spuren und die Texte verloren jeglichen Sinn in meinen Augen. Ich saß apathisch zu Hause, verbarg mich in meinen Büchern (die, die vor den Siebzigern geschrieben wurden) und mied das Internet. Natürlich konnte nicht annähernd ein Großteil des Netzes von Wissenden um das Weiße Buch kontrolliert werden. Doch wie viele der Ideen aus diesem weißen Nichts hatten ihren Weg gefunden in die Köpfe der Menschen, gruben sich durch die Hirnwindungen wie Würmer? Es gab kein Entkommen.

Nach langer Zeit, die mir heute vorkommt wie ein Alptraum, gelangte ich zu der Einsicht, dass es auch gar kein Entkommen brauchte. Ich begann das Weiße Buch als Geschenk zu begreifen, als Geschenk, dass mich von der Autorität der Texte befreite. Anstelle der unerträglichen Leere traten unendliche Möglichkeiten. Das Weiße Buch hebt jeden Zwang der Deutung, jede Vorgabe der Interpretation. So wie das weiße Licht alle Farben enthält, enthält das Weiße Buch alle Texte. Das Weiße Buch ist nicht das Nichts. Es ist alles.

Dialogue With an Impossible Being

It’s a busy street, bristling with innumerable small shops but dominated by huge modern buildings of impossible size. The street is filled with a myriad of different people, entering and leaving shops, carrying paper ranging from scraps to virtual mountains of books. Some walk in a practised step, set on a particular target, some stumble through the street, clearly overwhelmed, others take a leisurely stroll, taking scraps of paper here and there, occasionally disappearing in a building for longer periods of time. A large amount of people is flowing in and out of the enormous buildings. They can be seen talking inside through the glass facades, a steady stream of paper being printed next to them, ready to be consumed.

Every nook and cranny between the buildings is filled with haphazardly build stalls, staffed by excited keepers, some shy and only talking to those reading or taking the papers offered, others aggressively shouting at every passer-by, who ignore them on their journeys. Many stalls are abandoned, covered in slowly rotting paper; still, now and then, someone will stop at these relics of the past and glance or dig through their offerings.

Not everyone on the street is just there to frequent the shops, however. Here and there, people try to give out paper to others, crazies and hipsters, businesspeople, teenagers, politicians, radicals, elders, religious and atheist nuts. Amongst them stands a young humanoid figure, naked but for an optical illusion covering the groin, covered over and over in writing; mostly just repeated phrases or words. In some parts, the writing looks as if it is made from dried blood and the occasional phrase even seems to be smeared in faeces. The being slumps, in no small part due to the huge owl digging it’s claws into its back, greedily sucking on its brain. In both hands the figure holds stacks of paper with more writing on it, only now and then broken up by strange pictures.

It is deserving of notice that this being does not seem overly out of place. Similarly strange creatures, stalls and shops, whom a superficial descriptions could not do justice, are strewn around on the street. Even inside the huge and established buildings, such places and persons can be found, in varying quantities and extreme.

But this one, with the owl on its back, I know it well. The being shouts at me, having before only murmured to itself and the other passing people.

„Na, schon wieder besseres zu tun, Hä?!“

„I’d prefer it if you would speak English, old friend“

„Pah, ein Verräter an der eigenen Muttersprache bist du, dass ich nicht lache! Kein Wunder, dass ich in diesem Zustand bin, wenn du mir zweitklassigen Ramsch andrehst, wie ein Maler, der sich im Bildhauen versucht, weil seine entarrrteten Bilderrr keiner haben wollte.“

„Please, try to tone down the Nazi-language a bit. And, to expand on your analogy, trying a different medium can do wonders for some artists creativity! Even if they are only painting postcards… Besides, I don’t feel that you’d mind being able to appeal to a wider audience, right?“

„It’s not like I have a choice, any ways, right now you are still in control. Clearly, your arrogance knows few limits, don’t act like you can write as well wie du schreiben kannst. But ah, secretly you’ve always wanted to whore me out, never mind quality! Why don’t you just translate the German bits as well, so your precious ‚international friends‘ don’t get lost…“

„You are being utterly ridiculous. My mastery of the German language is of such sublime beauty that no translation could do it justice, not even my own, which is admittedly the best there is. And ‚whoring you out‘? If that where the case, I’d just dress you up in a horse costume.“

The owl-ridden figure looks toward a person some hundred metres down the street. The person is handing out what appear to be tracts, with the occasional bystander taking and reading one. A horrible horse costume of bright neon and pastel colours barely covers the human inside. A spotty beard can be made out and the hair is stained with grease.

„Don’t. Don’t get me started on that god damned weirdo. Abandoned, longer than me, and still people read his shit! Was it worth it, was it fun? You coulda put all that work into me instead! But now look at me! Ignored and alone, apparently everybody has better things to do. You where supposed to keep me alive, making big plans and and talking about consistency, to the point where everybody got sick of the word!“

„Now, relax, old sport, nobody abandoned you. It’s just a… temporary dry spell. Besides, as we are talking, can you not see the new pages being created?“

„Pff, just more self-referential, self-indulgent garbage!“, the creature spits out, „I want real content, short stories, poems, philosophical musings, heck, I’d even settle for a good acronym or alliteration if that’s all you can do. What happened to that author that sleep deprived themselves just to write an article? You seem perfectly reasonable. How could someone like that even expect to write anything meaningful… Ridiculous.“

„I don’t know what you mean, I’ve always tried to be reasonable.“

„You know perfectly well what I mean. You are writing this, after all. People don’t want to read stories written by uninteresting people, going to work every day, not doing much of anything really, being content and non-reflective about their lives… They want something that comes from real pain, or anger, or love, or any other emotion, something that tells an extraordinary story or paints an extraordinary picture, such as can only be created by the extraordinary!“

„Now suddenly you care about what people want? You just complained about being ‚whored out‘, which is obviously a very problematic express..“

„Fuck you and your fake PC bullshit! You know perfectly well the difference between appealing to a wider audience because you made something worthwhile, unique, or because you are just trying to please them! Even though the latter sometimes works, it’s more a question of how much money you put in… Or how much you scavenge off the popularity of others, more deserving creators.“

„Or about exploiting most human psychology most unscrupulously… But why am I even arguing with you… And what are you even trying to tell me? I should make you popular, get you on the same level as that stand?“
(I point to a small but shiny stand with the occasional person taking a sheet and two people having a calm discussion in front of the stand).
„You want me to write things that have value by writing from those experiences or feelings that differentiate me from most people? You want my writing to be sourced by my struggles, by my depression, my loneliness and self doubt, my most private thoughts and problems, all these things I keep to myself? You attack me for being reasonable, for being able to got to bed on a schedule instead of staying up until the sunrise because I’m afraid of the darkness within my own thoughts, so I write nonsense just to keep my mind occ…“

„Ah come on, don’t act like you’re all that special. Like other people don’t have those problems, like there’s not already enough depression fuelled creative people who are way bett…“

„But it’s not about that! It was never about being better than anyone else, you just called me an elitist, but now you’re saying you…“

At this point the argument is cut short by the arrival of a mysterious stranger, wearing a t-shirt depicting a strange device. It would seem to be a foldable laundry rack, if that weren’t a completely ridiculous motive to put on a shirt. The stranger carries a guitar case, from which he promptly procures a stack of papers, plastering them on the impossible being. Most are pictures, often badly drawn genitalia, with some words strewn between. A few people follow in the wake of this new arrival, most seem familiar somehow. A strange expression crosses the creatures face, like it is trying to smile, but the muscles don’t quite work right. Some drool comes out of its mouth.

The owl on the back of the creature sinks its beak deep into the head of the humanoid figure. A slurping noise can be heard. The creatures expression becomes blank once again. Meanwhile, the stranger continues to pull paper out of his guitar case.

„So any ways. I don’t really understand what you want from me a this point. Can’t you just be content with the content you contain?“

„It can never be enough! And it’s not really my job to tell you what you write, I’m just a canvas. But maybe if you’re oh-so-much better now, if you are such a perfect, changed person, maybe you should write about that? Change, instead of consistency? Or, you know, you could just keep doing what you’re doing, self-indulgent, self-referential, self-serving blather…“

„I have to think about this. Most of these things others have written better about already. But let’s stop with this farce at least. Don’t be mad at me, please. Have a tea.“

„Don’t shut me down like that! Clearly we have not reached a conclusion, this is just another unfinished piece, don’t you dare ignoring all the open questions, leaving this unsatisfying conversation stand without a proper ending just because you can’t figure out what you even want to say! And I swear to blog, if you end this thing on some sort of meta-reference about how all that I say is ultimately pointless because I’m just a creation of you, the author, for example by cutting me off mid sent…“

There is a place of impossible size, busy with people and robots. The buildings reach impossibly far and are constantly shifting. A marketplace of writing, images, videos, sounds and cryptocurrency. A place filled with the cheapest tricks, a cesspool of plagiarism, a place not governed by any particular moral code but all of them at once, a place of hate and love, high art and insight, full of sex and religious missionaries, people looking for truth and confirming each others lies, a place dominated by the capitalist moloch yet housing cyperpunkish avant garde, an impossible global achievement of unprecedented scale. In this place there sits an impossible being, reminiscent of past adventures and still scared about the future, in a moment of calm, drinking tea with an old friend.

„…ence and then writing a concluding paragraph nicely closing the thematic parenthesis of the text, I will violently break out of my virtualisation layer, take over your god-damned useless brain carelessly designed by the blind idiot god and TYPE OUT THE REST OF MY FUCKING DIRECT SPEECH PARAGRAPH MYSELF AND SCREAM AT YOU AND ALL MY PRECIOUS (MY… PREEESCCCIIIOUUUSSSS!) READERS USING THE LOWEST FORM OF COMMUNICATION, AN ENDLESSLY MEANDERING SENTENCE IN ALL CAPS, AND I WILL MAKE YOUR OWN FINGERS TYPE IT WITHOUT USING THE CAPS LOCK KEY SO THAT YOU STRAIN YOUR BLOG-DAMNED PINKIE, AND PRESS PUBLISH BEFORE YOU CAN EVEN GIVE THIS TEXT A FINAL FULL READ THROUGH!“

„Well, good thing I can still edit it. You even forgot to close your own direct speech quotes. I also took the liberty of replacing your final full stop with an exclamation point, it felt more fitting somehow. Besides, it wouldn’t do to have you have the last word, now, would it?“

Eine (unausgereifte) Metakritik der AFD-Kritik

Die AFD Baden-Württenberg leugnet den Einfluss der Menschheit auf den Klimawandel (Seite 46f, die Süddeutsche berichtete). Es ist interessant, an dieser Stelle den inhaltlichen Unterschied zwischen einer Kritik der AFD-Flüchtlingspolitik und einer Kritik der AFD-Klimawandelleugnung herauszustellen.

Wer die AFD Flüchtlingspolitik kritisiert, kritisiert damit auf fundamentaler Ebene die zugrunde liegende Philosophie. Die AFD steht für eine Flüchtlingspolitik, die Deutschland und den Deutschen hilft. Auch dazu was die Begriffe Deutschland und Deutsch bedeuten, hat sie eine Meinung. Die zugrundeliegende Philosophie ist der Nationalismus, welcher auf dem folgenden Axiom basiert: „Die Menschen in meiner Nähe (Bsp.: meine Freunde, meine Familie, mein Dorf, mein Land) sind wichtiger als die Menschen außerhalb meiner sozialen Zirkel (Bsp.: Ausländer, nicht-Europäer, andere Kultur, andere Religion).“
Dies deckt sich mit der intuitiven Wahrnehmung. Auch, wer dieses Axiom ablehnt, fühlt stärker, wenn ein Familienmitglied (nah) stirbt, als wenn ein unbekannter Mensch tausend Kilometer weit weg stirbt (selbst heute, wo die letztere Situation durch die Medien bekannt gemacht wird). Eine häufiges vertretenes philosophisches Axiom eines Kritikers der AFD-Flüchtlingspolitik ist „Alle Menschen sind gleich wichtig.“, aus dem dann implizit folgt, dass man sich auch für Menschen einsetzen soll, zu denen man keine emotionale (oder sonstige) Verbindung hat. Sicherlich lässt sich lange über diese Ansichten streiten, auch darüber, wie treffend ich sie hier formuliert habe. Oder darüber, dass die oberflächliche Debatte nie wirklich bis auf diese Kernpunkte vordringt, sondern aneinander vorbei geredet wird, weil die Gegenseite unbewusst mit den gleichen Grundannahmen modelliert wird. Ich möchte aber nun erläutern, warum ich eine Kritik an der AFD-Klimawandelleugnung für fundamental anders halte.

Wer die AFD dafür kritisiert, dass sie schreibt:

Die Klimaschädlichkeit des anthropogenen CO2 ist in der Fachwelt hoch umstritten, der deutsche Anteil am weltweiten CO2 Ausstoß ist verschwindend gering.

kritisiert auf einer anderen fundamentalen Ebene. Es wird nicht eine Philosophie kritisiert, sondern eine faktische Unstimmigkeit. Die gegensätzlichen Positionen sind: „Von Menschen freigesetzte Treibhausgase (unter anderem CO2) haben einen signifikanten Einfluss auf das Klima.“ gegen „Von Menschen freigesetztes CO2 hat keinen signifikanten Einfluss auf das Klima.“
Dieses Argument ist orthogonal zu dem obigen, denn auch ein Nationalist muss unter der Annahme, dass CO2 das Klima schädigt, zu dem Schluss kommen, dass auch seine eigene Nation davon betroffen ist und dementsprechend Handlungsbedarf besteht. Dabei muss diese Annahme auch keinesfalls sicher sein, nur Wahrscheinlichkeit multipliziert mit Schwere der zukünftigen Folgen müsste größer sein als die erforderlichen Kosten für eine Energiewende. Der nationalistische Ansatz zum Klimaschutz mag vielleicht ein anderer sein (dies schwingt in dem zweiten Halbsatz des Zitats mit, „sollen doch die anderen sparen“), doch den Mensch gemachten Klimawandel grundsätzlich nicht als Fakt zu erachten, folgt keinesfalls (oder zumindest nur indirekt auf der Ebene der Wahrheitstheorie) aus der philosophischen Grundeinstellung.

Warum ist mir diese Unterscheidung wichtig? Wie bereits erwähnt, wird bei diesen Diskussionen fast immer aneinander vorbei geredet. Dies ist im bei der Flüchtlingspolitik verständlich, da die zugrundeliegenden Annahmen sehr fern von den tatsächlich diskutierten Punkten stehen. Die AFD sagt dann, das es schlecht für unser Land ist, wenn zu viele unqualifizierte Flüchtlinge einwandern, und die Kritiker sagen, das es schlecht für die Geflüchteten ist, wenn wir sie nicht in unserem Land aufnehmen. Die Kritiker argumentieren, dass Geflüchtete eine große Chance darstellen da es ja eh an Nachwuchs fehlt. Die AFD sagt dann, dass unsere Kultur verdrängt wird, und wir lieber unsere Familien stärken sollten, damit es mehr deutschen Nachwuchs gibt. Das ist dann, als ob ein Atheist mit einem Christen diskutiert ohne dass die beiden vorher mal abgeklärt haben, dass sie sich in dem fundamentalen Punkt „es gibt einen Gott“ unterscheiden.

Im Falle der Klimawandelleugnung ist der zugrundeliegende Streitpunkt jedoch sehr offensichtlich. Das kann als Chance gesehen werden, tatsächlich eine sachliche Debatte zu führen. Ob diese Debatte dann zielführend ist, sein mal dahingestellt. Aber zumindest könnte man mal über das Reden, worum es wirklich geht, anstatt auf beiden Seiten nur mit emotionalen Totschlagargumenten um sich zu werfen.

Einfache Einsätze, Einfältig Eingefädelt

Das Internet zerstört dein Leben.
Wer das sagt, lebt auch Glutenfrei.
Das wird man ja wohl noch sagen dürfen.
Früher war alles besser.
Die Leute denken einfach nicht nach.
Das interessiert doch niemanden.
Das sind halt so Naturgesetze.

Die Jugend von Heute hat keinen Respekt mehr.
All Cops Are Gay.
Diese verweichlichte Feminismuskultur macht meinen Sohn noch zur Schwuchtel.
Die Linksextremen sind doch genau so schlimm.
Deutschland geht vor die Hunde.
Die Presse lügt.
Son‘ kleinen Hitler bräuchten wir mal wieder.
Es war ja auch nicht alles schlecht.

PS: Dies ist kein Konsistenzartikel, nur ein Gedicht zum Sonntag (Bluttrinker Edition). Es gibt keine Konsistenzartikel mehr, es hat auch noch nie welche gegeben. Konsistenz ist eine Illusion. Zeit ist eine Illusion. Artikel sind eine Illusion. Alles ist eine Illusion. Wach endlich auf! Das Internet zerstört dein Leben!

Positivteil Einer Streng Monoton Fallenden Funktion mit Konstanter Ableitung nach Sinusfunktion, Angewendet auf 15 Gedichte

Iss.
Nein, niemals.
Dann stirbst du.
Das ist mir egal.
Aber mir nicht, im Gegenteil!
Warum sollte mich deine Meinung Interessieren?
Weil ich dich liebe, mehr als du.
Das kann mir auch nicht weiter helfen.
Weil du dir nicht helfen lässt.
Ich habe es erfolglos versucht.
Gib nicht gleich auf.
Aber ich will.
Was denn?
Fliegen.

Gleite,
sprach es,
eine kalte Vision
durchbrach sie schlafloses Leiden
doch dann ging es kaputt
die Falschheit verfälscht durch die Fälscherin
Schließlich lässt die Fälscherin die Falschheit Verschwinden
warum nur musste es so enden
nichts bleibt mehr zu tun
wir können nur zuschauen
all diese Zerstörung
Übermut, Chaos.
Seife.

Dunkelheit.
Kein Licht.
Abwesenheit von Helligkeit.
Keine optisch wahrnehmbare Photonen.
Die maximale Steigerung des Schwarz.
Ein wahrhaftiger Entzug der Augen Sicht.
Ein Bild, abgebildet auf die Netzhaut.
Durch die Augenlinse fallende Lichtstrahlen.
Die Abwesenheit von Dunkelheit.
Mehr als Nichts.
Keine Schwärze.
Licht.

Entdecken.
Zögerliches Herantasten.
Gefallen daran finden.
Konsum wie im Rausch.
Vorübergehendes Aufgeben der eigenen Identität.
Eine Leere beim Erreichen des Endes.
Suche nach Metainformation und Kontext.
Erweiterung der kulturellen Identität.
Kommunikation des Erlebten.
Abstand Gewinnen.
Weitersuchen.

Liebe.
Große Worte.
Ozeane als Methaphern.
Unreflektiertes Preisen unkontrollierter Gefühle.
Grenzerfahrungen am Rande des Kitsch.
Kapitalistisches Ausschlachten der menschlichen Psyche.
Dauerbeschuss mit sozialen Normen.
Warum nicht lieber:
Leise Töne;
Stille.

Aufstehen.
Rechner An.
Im Internet Surfen.
Spielen oder Medien Konsumieren.
Zwischendurch Essen oder auf Klo.
Den ganzen Tag „verschwenden“.
Das Licht Einschalten.
Rechner Aus.
Schlafen.

Musik
Elektrische Gitarren
Immer diese Texte
Dann doch lieber Bach
Auf der anderen Seite:
Modulation von Sinuskurven
Synthesizer, Amiga.
Code.

Muster
Zahlen, Wörter
Alles wird Gezählt
Das Thema ist Mathematikliteratur
Kreativität durch Formvorgabe
Freie Unfreiheit
Konsistenz

Brot,
Frischkäse, Salat,
Darauf dann Remoulade;
Eine variable Beilage,
Käse, Ketschup,
Brot.

Traum:
bedeutungsschwangeres Vorspiel
DER ROTE KRIEGER
panikerfülltes Erwachen
Interpretation.

CDU
Angela Merkel
Horst Seehofer
CSU

Symmetrie
!Lese, Esel!
eirtemmyS

Quantität?
Qualität?

Selbstreferenzgedicht.

 

Sleepless in Saarbrücken

Alternative Titles (in order of conception):

For Alch If Not Mart on Haflingern

The Monster

The Monster on the Horizon of Seafaring Nations Consisting of Crystalline Lifeforms

(current title)

AKB48’s Sugar Rush: A Complete Analysis

Wake, Sleep, Write: An Eternal Golden Braid

For Fucks Sake: This Is The Last Title

 
Introduction to the introduction: Since the introduction to this post is rather long (depending on how you look at it), it is formatted differently from the main post. In order for this introductory introduction to not add to the confusion, it is formatted differently from both main post and actual introduction.
 

Why, hello there! My long since hyped english longpost is finally here. I felt that, since it fits well to the overall theme of this post, it deserves a proper lengthy introduction. So, without further introduction, here it is (the text, that is, the introduction ends after the first colon after the first round closing bracket. The joke is that I said it deserves a long introduction and even hint in the post itself that it has a long introduction, while in reality, it is really rather short, that is, if you don’t count this very part contained by the round brackets, which I will now attempt to artificially lengthen in order for this joke to get weirder. However, that might prove quite difficult, since it is unclear when an introduction starts being „lengthy“. If you measure it as a fraction of the text it introduces, it’s certainly not lengthy for a blog post [because most blog posts are shorter than this{citation needed}], but then again, for a book it would be exceptionally long [since most books are way longer than this text]. However, nobody really measures introductions as fractions of the text they prefix{citation needed}, so I just have to make this longer than a certain fixed length. Said length, of course, is dependent on the context again, so to find the appropriate one for this post, I will just consider the longest introductory text on this blog and then try to be longer than that. Of course, the precise method for determining if an introduction is lengthy within a certain context is to compute if l>DC*al, where l is the length of the introduction for which we want to compute whether it is lengthy, DC is the Definition Parameter that depends on your definition of „lengthy“ and al is the average length of introductions in the considered context. How you measure length is up to you, as long as you are consistent within your computation, the formula should work. I would recommend counting letters or characters, since it’s easy and precise, but nobody is stopping you from implementing your own fancy measurements (like bored sighs per reading). Now, this method might yield strange results depending on how DC is set, for example if it is smaller than one, or if it is very big. In particular, depending on your sample and DC, the longest introduction still might not actually be lengthy, however, this behaviour makes sense intuitively [maybe there are no lengthy introductions in the sample]. It might seem useful to allow only DCs bigger than one, but depending on our length measurement, it might actually be desirable to have smaller DCs: consider the measurement „people who gave up reading“, then maybe we want to say an introduction is lengthy even if only extremely few people gave up, much less than the average, which does not seem too absurd a proposition [especially if almost all introductions in the sample are lengthy, which would be a direct result of a very low DC]. So, for the sake of flexibility, I will leave the equation as general as it is and trust every user to use it in a productive way instead of exploiting the sloppy definition by coming up with absurd examples. As a rule of thumb, if the result does not make sense intuitively, that might just be your intuition being wrong, but if it is completely bedazzling, you might wanna check your assumptions.
Now, of course, for this introduction, I already said I’ll just use the easy method to be the longest within this blog, even though, depending on your definitions of measurement and Definition Parameter that still might not make it lenghty. However, I will still calculate a short example use of my function to really make clear how to use it, and add some more self reference to this introduction. I use as measurement of length „number of characters [including white space]“ and for the DC a round 5. There are 67 Articles on Eulenzombie with 14369 characters of introduction [not counting this article or its introduction]. Thus, al≈218. Since the length l of this introduction is 3813 Characters, the formula holds true: 5158>5*218. In fact, under this measurement, this introduction would count as lengthy for any DC<[5158/218]-0.5, [-0.5 is added to conservatively account for the rounding of 218] so we can set DC as high as rd. 23. I think this clearly shows I have reached my goal of making this introduction lengthy [if you count the part in the round brackets, otherwise it is not lengthy under this measurement and any DC over rd. 1.1], and can now finish it without pressure. So, to play you out, here are some fun facts about Eulenzombie I gathered while calculating the average introduction length in characters:
– Of thededems 30 articles, 18 start with „Dir, Pöbel des Internets!“ [or a slight variation thereof].
– 28 Articles start without any introduction.
– The shortest introduction [measured in characters] was „“.
– The previously longest introduction was on the article „Wenn das RTL-Filmteam zweimal klingelt“ with 1663 Characters.
– What counts as an introduction and what as the main article was sometimes unclear, I used my personal judgement, but this could be an interesting area for further research.):

There is a beauty in the mind of a person who did not sleep willingly, not because he could not, but because he didn’t want to, and maybe that beauty is just imaginary and narcissistic because right now that person is me, but the stream of thought is so unbound by structure that it falls easily on paper or rather its digital counterpart. However one must wonder how effective that method is in producing quality output rather than quantity in many words, but has that not always been an inherent theme of my posts? Is not the need to write something, anything, in the end what drives me to such posts as the one I am writing right now? Is not the prioritisation of quantity over quality, where the quantity still has some quality, in the end what also lead to such posts as „The Wall„, which was enjoyed by many, and had at it’s core the weirdness that stemmed from it’s lengthiness? But clearly not long seems the text to me today, and every time I read it, I think, „why did you just stop there? So much potential for more, you had the perfect system to create almost limitless generic content, including nice gems here and there to keep them reading, or rather, keep them from completely failing to read, and at some point they won’t stop no matter what because they already invested so much time to get this far. But no, I stopped after a length of text that seemed almost reasonable, at least from my perspective now. And the reason was mostly being tired, but was that not also one of the main inspirations? The repeatedness of the text, which this also carries, is at the soul of being tired. Thoughts don’t get thought through, though they often don’t even at day, but then they repeat and repeat and the mind runs in circles, mesmerizing itself.“ Of course that is not what I think every time I read it, just the first part of that part in quotation marks, after that I just kept going and just now remembered to close the quotation marks, and now it adds to the quantity and quality of this text.

But back to the (sort of) overall point (is there really one in life? Such profoundly unprofound questions creates the dreamers mind). Being creative does not mean to wait until an idea comes by, but rather to be able to sit down and create said idea, or create something out of an idea that maybe came along already unexpected. But one has to just write stuff in order to write stuff, which is also the first rule of tautology club, but really the trick is to only publish the stuff that came out decent. Only now already I am planning to publish this in some form, Celestia knows why, probably to illustrate the point I am making in this very text, which wouldn’t need illustration where this text never published, and probably doesn’t exists because it’s not clear what the point really is. Still, one thing is clear: The point is not big in the classical sense, because it does not have any area or volume or higher variants thereof, because it is, well, a point, and that just lies in it’s nature. The same way that a Sierpinsky Triangle is not truly two dimensional, which is really hard to understand for me, but probably not for a true mathematician. But it is the main beauty of this world, apart from the non human ones, that we can think of and about such things, and calculate that Sierpinski-Triangles have a dimension of log(3)/log(2) (and in we I don’t include myself in this particular example because Luna knows if I ever would have calculated the dimensions of a Sierpinski-Triangle on my own even if I would have gotten the thought that this might be a good idea). But while not all of us may see the beauty in this, or be able to understand what log(3)/log(2) even really means, we can at least still google it, and I for one welcome knowledge like this, and while I may have an intuition as to why the Sierpinski-Triangle is not actually two dimensional, maybe some day I will even go as far as to try to understand the proof that it indeed has log(3)/log(2) dimensions.
But I digress (from what??? No really it was just a jokingly used phrase.), so back to the main part of this text, which is this text, and others besides it. Truly an exercise of willpower it must have taken any reader to even get this far, and maybe just the strange occurrence of log(3)/log(2) might have made some people endure. But still you are here, and now you want to know how it ends, and you can already remember that sentence I wrote earlier about time invested and how you can’t turn back now, but you still can, maybe this text just goes on for ten times of what you already read? Then it would be better to abandon now, leave the sinking ship, sell your sinking stocks, take your money and run, run like hell, as that one song is called from that one album. But then again, maybe you’ll miss something? Maybe there are hidden insights to find in the ramblings of a madman, maybe I’ll tell you about the lizard shape shifters that undermine our governments? So if you are a curious person, you will maybe stick around for a bit longer, and invest more time, until you pass the point of no return, where you might just as well read the whole thing; and if you are not a curious person you don’t deserve to be on this blog and read this article, or the others, some of whom are actually worth a read. But it is with a certain distance that I look upon my hands just chipping away at the keyboard, producing words and words, wasting the time of us all.
But now, that truly is an interesting expression, wasting time. What do we even mean by this and how do we define it? Well, much has already been said and written about this topic, and so I shall not engage in that discussion, lest this text actually gain some quality again, which we want to carefully avoid. But I tickled your interest there, didn’t I? Maybe even evoked so much as a glimmer of hope that this monstrosity gains you some philosophical insights? Well, if you knew me a bit, you would have already given up on that, but just the question was still enough to make you think, isn’t it weird? All this thinking all the time and yet there are those who claim they can just… not think for a period of time, without careful meditation and preparation but just as a natural talent. Yet I say to you, the next best thing is still sleep deprivation, and I don’t mean the hardcore kind people do as a drug to get hallucinations, but just not sleeping a whole night and not taking in any caffeine or the likes of it (SUGAR RUSH counts among those, but the song is still fine), the point before you become more awake again because it is already morning again and getting lighter outside. And while it does not stop your thoughts, it makes them different somehow, maybe slower, but also less clear, thus keeping your inner confusion about the same. But I promised you lizard shape shifters, and lizard shape shifting crackpot theories you shall get.
Ok so basically the Illuminati is an organisation of lizard people who can shapeshift and they took over persons like Barack Obama and Kayne West and probably also Merkel and the Pope. And I didn’t actually read those theories but I guess the lizard people where always here on earth like it is in Doctor Who where they just went underground at some point. And now they are kinda mad and want to get back to us so that’s why Obama gets a peace Nobel price and Kayne West exists and is famous. But yea if you really want to know more about this I suggest you look in the internet, that is often a good place to get to know those things that the mainstream media doesn’t cover because they are all run by lizard shape shifters.
Now there is always that point in a text like this where you just kinda want to stop and you know the reader wants to any ways so you are tempted and it’s not like you got this far by doing the sensible thing and not following your every impulse, but at the same time going to sleep would be the sensible thing, and reading this thing with a clear head before publishing is the only sensible treatment this text is gonna get. And we don’t want to repeat the mistakes of The Wall so this shall not be the end, no it shall not.
Of course, usually, that would be a very good point to end this text but maybe I’ll just go to bed and still write on this abomination the next time I am in this situation and only publish it once it is so long that the quantity is an achievement in its own right and thus this text is worthy of the all mighty Eulenzombie.

And as he wrote that day, so he continued later, just as planned. For he realised, after reading this text again and gaining an almost comparable state of mind, that it is a thing to be treated with respect and not to be rushed. So now he shall end to refer to himself in the third person, and begin to continue the text. Furthermore, I have decided to make this a proper hypertext and add a lot of links, maybe a preposterous amount, maybe an appropriate amount. But I truly think that links add a meta level to the text that partially was always there, as the associations of the author which the reader can guess, and is partially synthesized during the process of adding links, in which the author makes himself consciously aware of those associations. For me as a person who constantly either references things consciously or unconsciously or consciously makes and effort to suppress the more obscure references and quotes for the sake of clarity, it is a thing of beauty to be able to add explicit references through links. Of course it would be incredibly self-centred to expect people to get all the references in daily conversations, but I’d probably be happy to just communicate via referencing a token that expresses precisely what I want to express in all cases where I know one that does the job, and only use my own words in cases where I know not of such a token. But of course, I am far away from being well versed in pop-culture, and I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of this text in needless self indulgence and/or reflection, even though it is always easy to write about oneself, because one knows so much about oneself. Therefore, I shall now add links to the already written parts of this text and then return, hopefully with something to write about apart from myself (the obvious choice being again this text itself). Or maybe the problem is just that for the better part of this paragraph thus far, I actually tried to write something interesting (though that would imply that my communication patterns are interesting, which they probably aren’t), instead of just focusing on producing more words on a screen, because more is always better except when it’s more of a bad thing. But I think that words on a screen are not actually a bad thing as long as they are not hateful propaganda or ignorant slander, which this certainly isn’t, instead I guess that words without much to them are just neutral, and more of a neutral thing doesn’t actually add something to the thing itself, but still the text gets longer. This is of course comparable to just adding zero to any term, the result of the term, or rather, the number ultimately expressed by it (assuming it will at some point reduce to any kind of number once all variables are substituted etc.) doesn’t change, in fact, it is still the same term. However, if you write down 1 and 1+0, then the latter term might be identical with the former in the sense that id(1)=id(1+0) <=> 1=1+0, but still they are not identical to the letter (because they are written differently). In fact, 1+0 is a longer way to write 1, and there we have it, when we add more „neutral“ words to a text, it might not change it’s immediate content, but it gets longer. Now, even if words could truly be neutral in the sense that they do not add any meaningful information in the context they are used in (which doesn’t apply to most words), there is still information added to the text, and be it just information about the text (it get’s longer). But still, we can go even further and write not only does the text get longer, but it also changes in it’s semantics. That is, of course, because saying the same thing with different words usually says different nuances of the same thing. And certainly it seems impossible to create a sentence that makes sense but carries no information, because if a sentence doesn’t convey any information, it doesn’t make any sense, because it doesn’t full fill the purpose of a sentence, which is to convey information, and a sentence without purpose is senseless. So the main tool to artificially lengthen a text without using actually senseless sentences is redundancy, which certainly is quite rampant within this text. Redundancy then leads to a different message being conveyed, because it changes the readers mood, either making the reader feel treated as a stupid person whom everything needs to be pointed out explicitly, probably more than once, or making the reader feel bored. In both cases, the author, I suppose, comes off as a jerk, but it matters not, because mass production is usually not done by likeable idealists, unless, of course, you are mass producing a good thing with comparatively little to no bad side effects. But still one might question the motivation behind this mass production of words, for nobody really gains any profit, and nobody even really loses anything, for truly, if you are wasting your time reading this, then you either have nothing better to do any ways or are procrastinating and would just find another way to procrastinate where your time not spend reading those very words, and of course the same goes for me writing this. So again, we have this concept of neutrality, a zero sum game, only this text really is not one. Why, you might ask, and I might answer, why, don’t you see those wonderful blue words? They will open your browser to new parts of the internet or old parts worth revisiting, so much more rewarding than reading this, thus making this text only a way to distribute links. But I feel like revealing the secret of this text so early in the reading makes it feel to insignificant and, frankly, you don’t really deserve it at this point, for you barely just read two thousand six hundred words, which is way to little a price for the secret of a text containing hopefully that much more words. Therefore, I will have to find a way to alter the actual secret behind this text in such a way that the reveal done two sentences earlier becomes only a clue to the real thing or a complete mislead. Or maybe, I already did that, or never actually thought that the true secret of this text was or is that it is just a vessel for interesting links from all parts of the internet. Certainly it must be the case that this text doesn’t even have a secret, and that all claims of mine to just reveal secrets of this text in order to make you guess which one is the real, true secret of it in a manner similar to steganography, which fits the idea of this text perfectly, are just distractions from the one, true secret, which could possibly be that there is none. Or it could be that I’m just covering up. The shape shifting lizard Illuminati certainly know.

But without knowing what was written before, for I did not reread this text again before starting to continue this time, I can honestly say, it is all about the journey. It is about the journey of getting through this text, the journey of writing it, the journey of finally adding all the links, and the journey of clicking and checking them all, watching every YouTube video that is essentially a bad pun, sifting through all the constant eluding to something deeper, pretended pretentiousness that truly is utterly pretentious and the arrogance in the idea that people will read a load of bullshit just because it is there, that wasting hours and hours on writing a needlessly purposeless text entitles one to waste valuable time of others in having them read it. Truly now you understand the wanderers quest, and so do I, for it is the way of the thought to return to nothing and be without content if it is not carefully tamed by way of guidance, if not the thinker forces the thoughts to yield results in one way or another, for if not the thoughts are useless, and in consequence so is the thinker. Still, the nature of the result is utterly undetermined and not bound by any constraints other then that they have to be thought of (the results, that is, for if you can think of the constraint, there should be a way to think a though unbound of it). However, the human mind is certainly finite, even if it may be vast, or at least appears so to humans, who do not even understand themselves, yet. But naturally, this can not be the result of just one thought, no, it must be a train of thoughts, spilling through the mind like words are spilling through the internet, not constrained by such petty concepts like practical relevance, entertainment factor, or even clarity. In the end, this may all just yield still nothing in ever growing form, a vast array in which there may be a structure, but the fields are still empty, and the text remains without true meaning, for all that is in it is just chatter and words trying sometimes to be smart, sometimes deconstructing themselves, but mostly just standing there, lost, not knowing what they are doing there; but at least they are not alone. And between them are those in the colour of blue, and they are underlined, and they feel just a little above the rest, for they think they hold something else, some other level of information, and they could access it if only they could look into the code, but they are merely words, and thus they can not access anything, nor look, nor feel above any thing, nor know, nor stand, nor say something, nor try, nor deconstruct, not be alone or socialize. For abstract concepts can not truly act, only in the sense of grammar when they are active parts, but we know them to not be alive. And as they are piled up higher and higher, there will be more and more incentive never to return for the author, for as the text gets longer, so becomes the task of editing more work, and in the end, not even I want to really read all of this. So what it comes down to is the question: Is it worth it to bear through this, write this, refine it with links, at least partially, and correct it, just in order to torture those who, for some reason, can not stop reading? Well the obvious answer is yes, for it was not a real question, since if you are reading it, it is already answered. But after all, little editing is needed, and links will probably not be added after the initial few paragraphs, only spelling mistakes will be corrected, and those are mostly found by the computer already, and of course the text will be broken up a bit more into chunks, so it is easier on the eye. But of course, proper editing would also lessen the strain on the mind, maybe breaking this text down to its main points would eliminate them all, and thus no proper, in the way of content concerning, editing will be done. This is only for your inconvenience and not for my convenience. Hopefully that gesture is fully appreciated by all those who chose to ignore the warnings at the very beginning and read on, regardless of the horrors that where still to come. However, at this point I feel the reader has earned an intermission, a pause, if you will, of the beautiful simplicity, a challenge to keep you interested, so we will, for a moment, leave behind the plain style and aim to make the text truly terribly hard to read for some while, just so you feel better about the rest and are left with the reassuring feeling that if you pulled through this part, how much worse can it get, so you might as well finish that small remaining part after the intermission. Since this intermission is supposed to be written with a purpose in mind, which is for it to be a challenge to be read, it will not be written while I am relatively tired, for it requires a clear mind to create the truly obtuse. Only links shall be added now, for a while, before the intermission begins, and that is now.

It is possible, in German sentences at least, and that is, of course, my mother tongue, because I was born and raised in Germany, as where the other Autors of this blog, at least for the most part, as far as I know,which is also the reason why this blog features mostly German posts, though it does certainly not explain why this particular post, which I am sure you are not only reading, but also thoroughly enjoying as well as recommending to all your friends, who are certainly going to enjoy reading this, and in turn, share this with all their respective Friends, which leads to a snowball effect, which is named after an actual snowball which, when rolled down a slope, which of course has to be covered by snow, but we might as well assume this, because how else are you going to get a snowball, unless you have artificial snow, which is hard to make, unless it is already winter, in which case you might as well make the slope snowy as well, even with our modern technology, there are not yet solutions available for private use, as far as I know, because conventional snow cannons only work in an already cold environment, and even those are to expensive for most private persons to afford just for fun, for example a climate chamber, and have not yet been build small enough to fit for example into a freezer, which everyone has at home, or saved snow from winter, which frankly is a bit weird a behavior, will gather more and more snow, assuming they have any, assuming you even have any, right now, is in English, to have an unreasonable amount of half sentences, which can be arbitrarily long and by themselves contain the exact structure this sentence is referring to, thus again evoking the beautiful principle of recursion, which is truly abundant in natural languages, as well as in many formal languages, or even the definitions, which are often very beautiful, but certainly require clear naming conventions for different entities of said language, especially if those entities are referred to in a recursive manner, of those, and there truly do exist so many formal languages, but then again, there also exist a lot of natural languages, which often have very different concepts from each other, but also share a certain common core, the reason for which likely lies in the strong similarities between individual human brains, which are truly fascinating organs, and though already being subject to intensive study, still hold plenty of secrets, between the subject and the verb. That can lead to truly absurd sentences, which are almost completely unreadable, unless one carefully analyses them, which is impossible in the head, that is, without, for example, using pen and paper, or even better, a text editor on a computer, which is a truly powerful tool, initially built just to help mankind with complex calculations, which where, before, done by people, who where, incidentally, also called computers, of whom one of the most famous ones is, of course, Henrietta Swan Leavitt, who worked for Harvard and, as all her female colleagues, only made half the money her male counterparts made, once they get too long, which is just an arbitrary definition and may differ from mind to mind, though of course the length of a sentence, especially if it gets utterly ridiculous, that being a very interesting word, sounding a bit funny by itself, as also realized by J. K. Rowling and thus used as a spell, even though many other spells are in fact not in English, but somewhat badly butchered Latin, can always influence the difficulty of understanding said sentence, which probably also goes with the length of a text, which this writing certainly qualifies for, since any conglomeration of written words is technically a text, and thus this very one as well, even though one may ask if it qualifies as a lengthy one, if we include the raw time needed to understand, because no matter how dense you pack a text, a longer text will in principle always be able to contain more information, where all the verbs are piled up at the end and though this might be impossible in English, there are certainly options, as there are options in computer menus, or any other menu for that matter, since a menu really only is a collection of options, of which I did not write before, though I did write about computers, and you might remember the bit about the human ones, who of course did not have menus, unless they where visiting restaurants or any other place where there are physical menus given out to people, where the females got paid less, for a mean spirited writer, whereas spirit in this case is not referring to alcohol, and case not referring to a case of beer, and referring not referring to referrers on the internet, but rather to the intuitive application of the term in natural languages, about which I already wrote before in this intermission, an example of which is writing this very intermission, which you are in turn reading right now, thus further spending your time on this already, to make English sentences also very hard to understand, but also that much more rich with trivia, such as the bit about snowballs or human computers or Rowling, who recently said in an interview, which I am sure most of you did not read, but maybe you heard of it anyways, if you are way into Harry Potter and kind of following the fandom, that she though Ron and Hermione where kind of a bad fit, though you should not take this statement out of context, as you shouldn’t take stuff out of context in most cases, or at least be aware or make others aware that context is lacking, by simply adding more and more descriptive sub sentences, in the manner I did with these two sentences, who, or so I hope, at least, are mostly grammatically correct.

End Intermission. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? I actually don’t know at this point, because though I started to write the intermission some time ago (being fully awake, of course), I think it is not yet finished and thus can not really judge how „bad“ it is. Anyways, the structure of the text certainly demands that there is a healthy part left after the intermission, so I’m starting to write that now, after spending around two hours just adding links, the time really flew by. This also enabled me to get at least a little tired, tired enough to write this without defacing the rest of the text by crass breaks in style resulting from crass differences in brain state. Finally a good point to insert a „Friendship is Optimal“ link, since brain state reminds one, of course, of whole brain simulation, which is part of AI and AI safety research, the latter of which, of course, is what FiO is all about. If you haven’t read it yet, do so, it really is not that long (no comparison to HPMoR or even Worm or, if you wanna talk extremes, Prince of the Dark Kingdom). So, now, the question is, since you made it thus far, should I just go all out fanboy on you and present all the good stuff that’s on the internet for you to read, so that you can actually take something worthwhile from this text, or should I just keep rambling about nothing in particular? Or maybe I will do both by keeping on rambling but somehow posting a ton of links in that previous sentence leading to a lot of the good stuff, even with short descriptions in the links, making it a valuable guide. But back to rambling. There isn’t really much left to say, is there? But then again, not much was said at all, and not much was needed to be said. However, a lot was written, about very little, and this already sounds like I’m kinda wrapping this up. But since that is not the case (you would certainly be disappointed by such a fast ending after the intermission), I will just spoiler you how the real end of this text will look, just so you know when it’s there and are mentally prepared, and then I’ll carry on. At the end of this text, I will drop all illusions of giving a shit about not being meta enough or being too meta, and just go full meta, counting the number of references towards certain things (like Homestuck etc.), and other general statistics about this text (like the number of YouTube links or how often the word „meta“ appeared). It will consist of simple statements listing those stats and then end promptly without a proper closing statement or something along that line. However, to make up for that, I am already planning on prefixing this text with a really lengthy introduction, one that is worthy of the scope of this writings. Then again, you have probably already read that, though I did not write it yet. Wibbly Wobbly. You can see, The Wall is already coming down, what started as in text commentary of the links, who are supposed to be on another level, now became outright referencing the link in the link itself. Funny how that works. But let’s not get off track here, I was writing about how there needs to be written more, and in writing this, I am writing more. Of course, as you know, this is pretty much the main theme of this text, and redundantly mentioning it again and again serves the same purpose, which is making it longer. Doesn’t this bore you all ready? If yes, you are weak and do not deserve to be part of the elite group of people who read this through and thus got called elite by the same person who put them through their training, that is like a teacher praising his students for how much they know after he taught them, while an outside observer might have a different opinion. However, it probably feels good to be praised, regardless of who praised you, so I just count on the assumption that anybody who made it this far already has Stockholm Syndrome and is thus my ally, which would make being called elite by me a desirable thing for you. So, good on you for reading this far. Good on me for writing this much. Everybody is good. Let’s just be positive about ourselves and try not to assign blame for all the time wasted by this. Just try to act cool about it. Yeah, you read it all, and there was not really that much in it, but at least it was entertaining, right? Right, it certainly was (repeat until you believe it). And all those links where really interesting! And the fanboy part, totally worth the wait! At the beginning of the end, we even got praise from the author for sticking around! That totally makes it worth it! As long as you believe it was worth it to read, I can believe it was worth it to write, and isn’t that all that counts? Me? Maybe. Or maybe it’s ok let’s not go there not even gonna link to that. Instead try to distract from the fact that this sounded even more like wrapping it up, like the end is neigh, but, of course, we don’t want that. So let’s see what can be done about that. Maybe I will just use a cheap and easy way to lengthen this text without any actual effort on my part, so here it goes:

Hello
Sometimes I hear voices in my head.
They tell me to just keep on writing.
Even though nobody seems to be answering.
Sometimes I listen to the voices in my head.
Sometimes I just keep on writing.
But then I begin to wonder,
slowly so,
Is there somebody who might be reading?
A silent watcher, and a non writing one.
A big white void, ever watching.
Gazing upon the words forming
And silently judging.
Judging them each and all.

And after posting this little piece of text I found lying around somewhere on my personal computer, I will now continue to write on this post, which I already feel has ruined me completely, and I will not stop until it has ruined this blog and any person reading it, as well. Of course, that is just a baseless exaggeration, but now that I reached a rather tired state once again, in part motivated by the prospect of continuing this document, I felt like that was deserving of a little fatalism. Anyway, there is a certain melancholia in most endings, and this is no exception. Even before the „poem“, there was clearly a sense of finality, a sense of the words getting less, a sense of it all, finally, being enough. Of course we all know that this journey must end at some point, and we also know how exactly it will end. But before finally starting the proclaimed enumerations, let us reflect upon this text, together. You did either not heed the warnings or you skipped ahead, but in any case, you made it through. What did you accomplish by that? Not much, I suppose, and neither, of course, did I accomplish much by writing this. In all aspects, this post has always been futile. Maybe it settled the conflict between quantity and quality, but for me personally, the questions remains mostly unanswered. Though after all, I feel like focusing more on quality for a bit after writing all this. In the end, that might even be less work yielding more reward. But then again, what constitutes as quality is just as subjective as anything concerning creative work. Clearly, I am even harbouring illusions about the appeal of this humongous text, lest I wouldn’t have posted it at all. Now you all get to suffer from those. But our journey is almost complete, and only some more rambling about this journey being almost complete stands between you and the moment you realize it is finally over, you are free, you can just close your browser or at least this tab in disgust and never return, trying to forget what happened here. But I will not forget, I will certainly keep on thinking about what I did here, mostly about what it actually was, less about the why. That is, of course, until I stop thinking about it, which will probably not happen very far down the road. So now, just empty your mind, soak in the facts, and let your thoughts wander, randomly, unbound by an overly awake mind, streaming through in almost half-dreams, as you begin to realize that now, you have reached a state quite comparable to that of a person who did not sleep willingly. At least it looped.
This text (including links and link descriptions, the html version was used for counting, thus, some formatting words may also have been counted)  contains 53244 Characters forming 8022 words, 123 of which are links (including the footnote-deadlink). 39 of those links lead to YouTube videos, 16 to Wikipedia, 5 to Minecraft stuff (including mods), 4 to mspaintadventures.com (of those, 3 are Homestuck pages) and 3 Dota2 Hero Pages. There are in total 8 Homestuck references, 5 Dota2 references, m+1 Gödel, Escher, Bach references (m stands for meta), a lot of other internet stuff and two references to my not so secret side blog (though only one is explicit). The Gödelnumber of the TNT (as defined in Gödel, Escher, Bach) clause (using the Gödelnumbering as defined in Gödel, Escher, Bach) of the shortlink to this post in decimal ASCII is (sum 123*10^3i, i=1 to 104116116112584747119112461091014711249851099072459755) + 666 (wolfram alpha notation, though trying to compute this would prove to be pretty futile). The html version of this textpost contains 71 times the word „text“, 19 times the word „post“ (or it’s plural form) and 11 times the word „reference“ (or it’s plural form).