Going Down (Post -5 of -15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

5 UG (Unter Grund)

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

The little boat of my soul now sets sail, to course through gentler waters, leaving behind her a sea so cruel. And I will speak of that second region, where the human spirit is purged, and becomes fit to climb to Heaven. But, since I am yours, O sacred Muses, here let dead poetry rise again, and here let the calliope sound.

 

The sweet color of eastern dawn, that gathered on the skies, pure as far as the first day of who – – – or what – – – I was after I was I. This restored delight to my eyes, as soon as I was issued from the dead, which constrained my eyes and heart. The lovely planet that encourages us to love; it was making the whole east smile, veiling the sacred fishes that were once sins – – – thrown overboard – – – and hoping to come up in the nets of the saints as virtue. I turned to the right, and fixed my mind on the southern pole, and saw four stars, never seen, until now, except by Adam and his rib.

 

The sky seemed to be joyful at their passions. O widowed northern region, why have I been denied the sight of them!

TOMORROW:  6 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post -4 of -15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

4 UG (Unter Grund)

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

A great liberation comes for those who thus find themselves suddenly dead, like the shock of an elevator hitting bottom – – – the soul is all at once convulsed, torn loose, torn away – – – the ‘self’ does not know what is happening. A drive and impulse rules and masters it like a command; a will and desire awakens to go off, anywhere, at any cost; a vehement dangerous curiosity for newly discovered world of hell that flames and burns in all its senses.

 

“Better to be reborn a worm than to go on living in hell” – thus responds the imperious voice and temptation: and this ‘hell’, this ‘at home’ is everything it had hitherto embraced!

 

A sudden terror and suspicion of what the self had once loved, a lightning-bolt of contempt for what it called pleasurable, that rebellious, arbitrary, volcanically erupting desire for strange places, estrangements, coldness, soberness, frost, an ambiguity for love, perhaps a desecrating blow and glance backwards to where it formerly loved and worshipped, perhaps a hot blush of shame at what it has done and at the same time a delight that the self has done it, a drunken, inwardly exultant shudder which betrays that a victory has been won.

 

A victory? Over what? Over whom? Over death? An enigmatic, question packed, questionable victory, but it is considered a victory nonetheless: such bad and painful things are part of the self’s past history.

 

It was at the same time a sickness that destroyed the self who had it, this first outbreak of strength and will to self-determination, to acting on one’s own account. And how much sickness is expressed in the wild experiments and singularities through which the liberated prisoner once pursued – – – and now attempts to forget!

 

He had cruelly prowled around with a deep thirst for lasciviousness; what he once captured – – – he now has to apologize for – – – the perilous tension of his past; what once excited him he now tears apart.

 

Solitude encircles and embraces him, ever more threatening, suffocating, heart-tightening, that terrible being and savage person, the fallen one – – – but who that is alive knows what solitude is?

 

TOMORROW:  5 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post -3 of -15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

3 UG (Unter Grund)

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

 

I floated upward from the cave and found myself on a mountain top. I then went down the mountain alone, no one was there to meet me. I entered a forest. There, suddenly before me, stood an old man, who had left his hovel to seek roots in the forest. And thus spoke the old man to me;

 

“No stranger to me is this wanderer; many years ago he passed by. Waldo he was called, but he has changed.

 

Back then you carried your sins up to the mountains; will you now carry your fire into the valleys? Do you not fear the Arsonist’s punishment?

 

Yes, I recognize you. Pure are your eyes, and no loathing lurks around your mouth. You now appear like a young child.

 

Transformed is Waldo; he has become a child; an awakened one is he; how will he act in the land of the sleep­ers?

 

As in the sea have you lived in solitude, and it has supported you. Alas, will you now go ashore? Alas, will you again haul your body as yourself?”

 

 

I answered, “I love mankind.”

 

 

“Why did I go into the forest to live – – – and the desert for solitude?” asked the old man,. “Was it not because I loved men far too well?

 

Now I love God; men I do not love. Man is a thing too imperfect for me. Love of man would be fatal to me.”

 

 

I answered him, “Did I talk of love? I am bringing the gift of life after death to the sleepers?”

 

 

“Give them nothing,” said the old man. “Instead, take part of their load, and carry it with them – that will be most agreeable to them: if only it is agreeable to you!

 

If, however, you want to give something to them, give them no more than alms, and let them also beg for it!”

 

“No,” replied I, “I give no alms. I am not poor enough for that.”

 

TOMORROW:  4 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post -2 of -15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

2 UG (Unter Grund)

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

In the end of my journey . . . to the end of my life – – – I found myself, in a dark cave, where I was lost. It is a hard thing to speak of, how cold, harsh and bewildering that cave was, so that thinking of it recreates the fear.

 

It was scarcely less bitter than death: but, in order to tell of the good that I found there, I must tell of the other things I saw there.

 

I cannot rightly remember how I entered it. I was so full of sleep.

 

But then I reached a chamber, whereupon the cave that had pierced my heart with fear, came to an end, there was hope.

 

I looked up and saw its ceiling brightened with the rays of the sun, the sun that leads men rightly on every road.

 

Then the fear, that had settled in the bowels of my heart, through the fall that I had spent through fifteen floors, became a little calmer. And as a man, who, with panting breath, has completed his act of debauchery, turns back towards that lifestyle and stares, so my mind, still a fugitive of fear, turned back to see that life again, a lifestyle that no living person has ever willfully abandoned.

 

I cannot rightly say how I entered that lifestyle. It was so wonderful, at that point, that I could not abandon it.

 

TOMORROW:  3 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post -1 of -15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

1 UG (Unter Grund)

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

 

What?

 

Nothing happened.

 

How could that be?

 

Something must have happened.

 

It’s not dark, nor is it light, it is simply misty – – – is it dawn?

 

Is it the Age of Aquarius?

 

Oh, Here comes the sun, here comes the sun – – –

 

And I say it’s all right . . . . .

 

 

My sweet lord

 

You walked into the elevator

like you were walking

onto a yacht

 

Hm, my lord

 

Your leather briefcase

strategically

displayed for

everyone’s eyes

Hm, my lord

 

 

Your scarf, it was apricot

I really want to know you

 

You had one eye in the mirror

as you watched yourself

Really want to go with you

 

And you dreamed, all the girls,

you dreamed that they’d

be your partner

 

Really want to show you lord

 

They’d be your partner, and…

 

That it won’t take long, my lord (hallelujah)

 

You’re so vain, you probably think

this story is about you

 

My sweet lord (hallelujah)

 

You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think

this story is about you

 

 

Hm, my lord (hallelujah)

 

. . . . Don’t you?

 

My sweet lord (hallelujah)

 

Don’t You?

 

TOMORROW:  2 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post 0 of 0)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

0th Floor.

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

 

TOMORROW:  1 UG  (Unter Grund)

 

Going Down (Post 15 of 15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

1st Floor.

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

This damn place and a merciless god are sure to be the death of me.

 

Dumb bastards can quote from any book but have no idea how to take care of a fucking elevator.

 

A god who was a Shiksa’s weeping wall.

 

Course offerings with no more content other than political correctness.

 

A god who never understood me.

 

Billions of dollars being spent on new construction that is already cracking and settling.

 

A god who listens only when he wants something.

 

Hundreds of millions on new lab facilities that will be out of date before they are finished.

 

A god whose feet are made of clay.

 

The bourgeoisie attending the Anderson Center for the Arts; all pseudo critics as they jump up and holler “BRAVO, BRAVO.” These idiots didn’t understand the cryptograms behind performance.

 

A god whose truth is kept in Pandora’s box.

 

The shame of past professors; using their grant money for pretty things not covered by the grant documentation.

 

A god who does not answer my plea.

 

The university is dead,

 

God is comatose,

 

and I am a card carrying nihilist.

 

Who was I before I was me?

 

Better yet, what will I be when I return?

 

Be patient; it will only be three days.

 

TOMORROW:  0th Floor

 

Going Down (Post 14 of 15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

2nd Floor.

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

Yes! I have been led to my demise, my life of sin, and all that it encompasses – – – by who else but the university.

 

That is where I learned about Foucault, Borges, Nietzsche, Swedenborg, Snorri Sturluson, Omar Khayyám and others; almost in that order.

 

It was that chain of sin that occurred when I read the first sentence of Foucault’s Preface to “The Order of Things.” I will never forget – – – even in my next life – – – what he said; “This book first arose out of a passage in Borges, out of the laughter that shattered, as I read the passage, our supposed ‘natural order of things.”

 

Then I had to gather as many of Borges books as I could carry; and I read them until I understood how well Borges could play with our minds – – – and sometimes even straighten out our thinking as he toyed with us.

 

From there the chain of university sin crept on. It was a sort of creeping incrementalism.

 

I like the “isms.”

 

Sort of mysterious.

 

Then it was my old pal Fred Nietzsche. Talk about mysterious! Especially when he got a little biblical in his “Zarathustra.” But then I found out he was anything but mysterious. He just liked to write that way to make us think. Or did the translators tend to make it mysterious?

 

Swedenborg! Now there’s a piece of work. Seemed to be a little on the whacko side. On the other hand you have to take these guys with a grain of salt. All of them have truths here and there; if you are willing to rummage around for them.

 

Sturluson was the historian – – – sagas and such. But if you stick with him you will learn so much about the western hemisphere.

 

Khayyám, an eastern philosopher on the payroll of the Visear, wrote more on the sciences than on philosophy but was successful at both; thanks to Edward FitzGerald’s channeling of Omar.

 

Oh my God, or whatever God is listening, why have you allowed my thoughts to scurry off into a pedantic wasteland?

 

The light for floor one has lit up bright and is so beautiful!

 

I do not know if I say this because it is the end of my torture or that I have made peace with myself.

 

Or possibly that I just want this elevator ride to end quickly; one way or another.

 

TOMORROW:  1st Floor

 

Going Down (Post 13 of 15)

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Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

3rd Floor.

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

The university has really sucked me in; free classes, public archaeology facility, use of library, the greenhouse!

 

I would not be in this situation if it were not for those temptations. The temptations were pure evil. One lured you to the next, which lured you to the next.

 

A simple sin, when you get away with it, lures you to a more serious sin – – – and then the next higher level of sin.

 

Is the university the workroom of sin?

 

The nuns would have identified the levels of university sin; venial AKA “Forgivable”, and mortal AKA “You are going to hell for sure.”

 

And then there was the worst one “Original Sin.” What a crock of shit. How can babies enjoy the “pains of punishment” and “the fear of hell” when they have never caroused and imbibed – – – or engaged in the pleasures of debauchery?

 

Yes! The university is pure evil and I have been a good student of their teachings. It makes me proud.

 

But wait! All of the indicator lights are blinking.

 

How many floors do I have remaining to repent – – – how much time? Will the elevator stop? Is that likely to happen? Not the repenting but the saving of my corporeal being – – – and my essence.

 

No! Not likely.

 

Even if the elevator came to a sudden halt I would probably be crushed like an insect – – – crushed like the thousands of spiders that I have stomped on, poisoned or – – – as a child – – – focused the sun upon with a magnifying glass.

 

Crispy little critters. Heh, heh.

 

Is that what I now represent? A spider? Or am I to return as a spider? – – – if I ever do have the opportunity to return.

 

Wait! That is my only hope. I will have to return to this earth as something. Maybe everlasting life in Purgatory is not my best bet. Maybe the concept of returning to life as anything would be better.

 

Oh shit! I asked my mother the wrong question.

 

 It was not “Who was I before I was me?” but “What was I before I was me?”

 

TOMORROW:  2nd Floor

 

Going Down (Post 12 of 15)

Tags

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, NY University System, philosophy, Philosophy Culture and Interpretation

4^th Floor.

 

Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York

 

Why hasn’t the university spent more money on Maintenance of Elevators?

 

I am sure, even though they are a state school, that the alumni have donated a substantial sum of money. I bet there is an endowment worth more than two billion dollars.

 

Are they under the same program that Cornell was – – – “Deferred Maintenance?”

 

That is a fucking horrible phrase that covers up the real concept of “Neglect of the Infrastructure.”

 

Worse yet, it is an oxymoron; Maintenance means to maintain something. Deferred means to not do something. So we have “Maintaining Not.” Such smart people at Cornell, yet so ignorant of their own utterances.

 

I hope Binghamton University does not mirror Cornell in that respect.

 

But what the hell difference does it make? I am hurtling towards my death – – – and here I am whining about finances.

 

Maybe if I would have paid tuition for the course being taught on the 15^th floor I would not have been in this situation. Every penny counts – – – and I have just traded a few hundred dollars for my life. What an asshole I have been.

 

Maybe it wasn’t all about my being good or bad – – – maybe it was all about being an asshole.

 

When Saint Peter meets me at the gate he will say “Waldo, you were neither good nor evil; you were just an asshole. And for that I commit you to Purgatory for the remainder of infinity.”

 

Hey! Pete! I worked hard at being different – – – at being an asshole.

 

I was a beatnik in the late fifties, a free thinker in the sixties, a working stiff in the eighties, a shovel bum and delivery driver in the nineties, and a half-ass author after the millennial.

 

Yes, Pete, I will serve my time – – – for being an asshole – – – in Purgatory.

 

I should have written a philosophical treatise entitled; “Being and Assholeism.”

 

Only three floors to go – – – my fate is clear – – – let us not delay the process of my nothingness.

 

TOMORROW:  3th Floor