Monthly Totals

1. Showers: 3


2. Longest streak without bathing: 9 days (a current streak and probably my lifetime longest)


3. Nights slept in tent: 27


4. Mosquito bites (approximate): 25


5. Spider bites: 3 (he was living inside my tent until I assassinated him)


6. Fly bites: 7


7. Flea bites (approximate): 125 (25 from a hostel in San Juan and the rest one bad night on the desert)


8. Speared by cactus: 2 times


9. Speared by thorn trees: 4 times

It was a good month.

Comment on Method

The work of philosophy is description, not explanation. We do not require new terms to uncover phenomena. Rather additional terms, or more explanation, will only further obscure what we are looking for. What we are looking for is right before us. It needs only to be presented properly, or presented beside other phenomena in such a way that we make the connection--we see the pattern. In connections and patterns lie understanding. What is troubling will disappear.

Setting two phenomena beside each other we see some link. We make a comparison and something is now clear. We see the phenomena differently--not rightly--but differently. The world is different. If we feel relief we need not look further. We can again go about our activities in this new world. The inquiry has led to silence. The body moves again, unencumbered by confusion.

Aphorisms and Discussion

18. What is more revolting than the woman who plays and follows organized sport?

19. What is more astounding than the woman who travels alone in far away lands?

21. What is more confounding than the woman who will have sex with any man regardless of his stature among other men or his abilities?

76. If the State could intervene in one positive way it would be to outlaw abortions. Let the whores die in botched back alley surgeries.

119. Western man undid himself when he built the train and made it safe for women to travel alone. He made it possible for the weak to travel. I imagine a woman on a train, alone, dressed elegantly in lace and absent-mindedly twirling a parasol. I shudder.

120. The train is modernity. Think of it as a very slow internet. The train is the first great leap forward in communication, to spread chatter and gossip wider.

But Moraline, why do you say such awful things? These things you write offend my sensibilities and those of the majority.

Do not let my comparison of the internet to the train offend you.

No, no, Moraline. I am offended by what you have said about women, not about trains.

(Laughs) Do not let my laughter lead you to think what I am about to say is not of great importance. I laugh because your seriousness needs its balance. I laugh because it gives me pleasure to deepen the offence you feel. Allow me to explain:

I want women to return to their greatness. I want them to return to being the gatekeepers of the species. Whereas instead of spreading their thighs for any man on a drunken Friday night, she will soberly select only the finest of men to open her gates. And she will want of this chosen man his sperm implanted deep inside of her, filling her with his power, and she shall carry his seed nobly and in hopes that one of the sperm lings has penetrated the egg along her uterus and created a male child. It will be with a profound joy that she learns of her pregnancy and she will prepare for the coming son of the man of talent and when this boy is born she will nurture that talent that is his genetic birthright and she shall try to add to it and to encourage more from him as he grows. The man who can overcome just a little more than his father will be born of her and she will assist with his overcoming. I want only that women become essential again. A man will aspire to something greater if his mother and the women he is attracted to demand it of him. Men will only be better if women make them.

Forms

There are good ways to balance the riding and the sitting. You can stop at good places. Good places may be good people, but good places are sometimes a good safe spot for the tent with water and electricity nearby and a good view from the tent window of mountains or a lake or river. It could be good girls too. Goodness has many forms. It doesn't last for so long, but other times it lasts longer. So you stay with the goodness--maybe a good fuck, a good view of mountains, or a good quiet place for doing some writing under a canopy of old pines. Then, when the goodness sours, you go back on the road.

This is a fine form of life, but it is best to have a project to give your days unity. There are projects of sitting which are the things you are writing. There are projects of travel which you use a bicycle for. See, you are trying to get somewhere. You are going places. That is the project that gives the days their unity. You pick a somewhere and you go to it. But you can stay a few days or weeks maybe along the way. There is no immediate need to get to a place and there is goodness along the way that may keep you. This is a way of travel I am beginning to enjoy.

Diego and I are camping at this fine, free campground as I have said. At night we have great feasts of grilled steaks and chorizos and very good and cheap wine made in San Juan or Mendoza. We have our tents up under an old forest of pines which in Spanish we call "el pinar". The pine needles make for a soft forest bed to sleep upon. During the day we work on our bikes, the wind blows high in the pines, and sometimes I do a little writing. There are good mountains to look out at over the canal that brings the glacier waters down to feed the vineyards.

Its been a good place but this goodness has run its course and we will go apart today. Diego will leave for Mendoza and a girl and I will leave the campground to return to the city of San Juan, also for a girl. That is how travelers with projects travel. There are moments of unity, where things and people and places come together. It need not be a great reason, but the project is what provides the unity and it is good. The aimless wandering can be dispiriting. That is to be resisted. One must fashion of his days a project.

Dialogue

Me: pinche las chicas, amigo. pinche
Omar: don't know what that means man
me: vives en miami, no
Omar: lol
me: castellano se habla no
Omar: where are you now?
me: san juan, argentina
Omar: nice
me: leaving when taxes resolved. ride through andes north to salta
Omar: what taxes? in the u.s.?
me: money i owe, problems with 2009. florence trying to screw me because her life sucks and mine is all fun
woman past 30 if you dump them will become bitter shrews. remember this my friend.
Omar: lol i owe too
me: be careful. your woman looks to be a little old
Omar: she just turned 30
me: jesus. jesus.
cuidado, mi amigo. mucho cuidado
do not marry. for gods sakes dont
do not have children, for gods sakes do not
Omar: moved in with her at a complex called Nirvana
me: Nirvana. fucking ironic
Omar: yep
me: dont blow too many years on that life.
Sent at 7:06 PM on Friday
Omar: have a year's lease
me: around your neck
Omar: nice fucking place though
me: nice as my old place
Omar: yep
nicer complex though
me: good
Omar: right on the water, infinity pool steam room, gym (im working out), jacuzzi etc
me: always nice to live good luxiurious for awhile. makes going back to poverty that much more exciting
Omar: lol
me: you working out funny
Omar: trying to get a schedule going
me: need to go at least 6 weeks before it becomes routine
and you see results
but fuck gyms
get some kettlebells and work out in a park
faggots go to gyms
why dont you publish my photos in your bullshit magazine?
just look at those fucking mountains
just look at that motherfucker of a man who rides them
Omar: like you said - bullshit magazine. they don't care about those images. they want fashion, design, all the la-di-da stuff
BUT
I am preparing a travel issue --- maybe you have a travel story idea?
me: got a whole blog with my travels. the writing is there. not sure if your crowd would like those stories thouhg
Omar: needs to work for this kind of mag somehow though
something about an American going to Argentina to try and start a winery could be good, but I don't know if you have enough material for that yet
me: that is what i want to do, but no info on that really
lotta bullshit people in wine. cocksuckers and cunts
want to do wine my way, hardcore not give a fuck way
have this crazy idea of doing wine in colombia in mountain area near FARC activity. danger and wine. seems like a story. but not ready to do that yet.
Omar: that seems rather dumb, they'll kill you
me: naw
all the world wants to be liek napa valley. made for middle class white women. i want to do wine that cuts
and kills it, and none of that bullshiit upperflclass bourgeois garbage will ever drink my shit
Omar: ok, why don't you just do it in Argentina
me: gotten expensive here
also the politics is real bad. kirchner running country into ground
i like argentina though
you would too
very european
but with cowboy american style added to it.
italian influence mostly
but long ditances and ranching make for cowboy pionerring culuture
which i like very much
Omar: true - my parents were just in buenos aires, im going to Barcelona, then Arles in the summer
me: ah fuck europe
that continent needs another big war
Omar: europe is beautiful and you know it
that's good enough for me
plus i won a raffle trip to Barca so I'm going
me: the land is still beautiful but the people suck the cities are fucking disneyland tourist hells
won a raffle shit
shit
Omar: yeah, just got lucky
me: i got lucky the other night
Omar: how os
so
me: 19 year old
Omar: it's easy there
me: won her at a raffle
Omar: child's play
me: colombia is easy
argentina not so easy
Omar: 19 year olds are easy
me: good for my spanish lang aquisition
no speak much english these days
Omar: good for you
me: whats mccloud doing
anyway
Omar: skiing with fam this weekend, about to open a new restaurant with a celeb chef, and working on the other projects...
me: jesus active he is
good
Omar: yeah, he's been working super hard
not been easy though
me: never easy
miami
maybe he'll be the cunt to do it though. i hope so. miami needs a good guy
Omar: hopefully - im rooting for him...he's not given up yet
me: hes in too deep to give up. crash and burn or succeed is all hes got
Omar: yep
me: you fuckers should pay me a visit in medellin
tickets from miami are 100 round trip
Omar: my ex is from Medellin blah
me: who cares about that girl
she wasnt born there
if she was her tits would be bigger
Omar: lol she was born there, had her nose done instead i think
me: alrightbut too bad there wasnt money for the tits
she needs to go back and get some very firm softballs put in
Omar: fake tits are nasty man
me: whats gotten into you
they can be done now so that you will never know
Omar: ive never experienced that, can always feel the silicone
me: i encourage women to be soleyl concerned with their bodeis.
Omar: like a doll
me: all the talking i'll leave to the intellectual girls you like
Omar: i'll do both
me: dont make the mistake i did. just because she can use the word existentialism in conversation doesnt mean you marry her
Omar: lol
me: are you really laughing or is that you writing like a girl for fun
Omar: lol
you are funny
honestly
me: yeah
Omar: i can see you smirking
me: grinning
got this fucking cancre sore on my inside lower lip that the grinning irritates motherfucker
it wont go away
hard to eat or kiss bitches
how you get rid of one?
Omar: don't know, you wait, it's horrible
Sent at 7:37 PM on Friday
me: kissing that girl inflamed it even more
see other girls here but know i'll jus tget a mouth full of blood and pain the next day
Omar: good that you're getting some ladies.
me: my recent divorce has corrected a great mistake
i see you being led down the same unhappy and painful path buena suerte
Sent at 7:46 PM on Friday

Despues

I rolled out of bed and pulled on my jeans and sat on the edge of the bed and laced up my shoes. I didn’t look back yet. I didn’t want to. Not yet. I pulled my shirt over my head and sat a moment. I turned around and she was awake looking at me. She started to smile and I tossed the decorative pillow into her face.

“Tu vas?”

“Si.”

I reached over and took a handful of her tit and squeezed it. I reached under the sheet and grabbed her ass and she giggled. She was so young.

I winked at her for the last time and started for the door. I felt her watching me the whole way. Downstairs the doorman let me out onto the bright street. It was afternoon. My head hurt and everything felt in slow motion. I felt empty and unsure of myself. I did not know what I wanted. The fountain was on in the plaza. Water was flowing in the irrigation ditches along the streets. Maybe I liked Mendoza after all.

Note on Rigor, Style and Philosophy

Maximin has advanced the idea that there is something incomplete with the aphorisms and other writing here; that the proper level of rigor has not been shown and that maybe I am no longer doing or am interested in doing philosophy. Yes, there are many other aphorisms and writing that has not been posted--that perhaps clarify and connect to what is here--but I disagree that what is here is lacking in some way by their absence.

If by rigor we mean thorough, far-reaching explanation, then the aphoristic style itself is unrigorous. The rigor of the aphorism emerges from the reader--he must provide it. The writer of the aphorism can only hope to stimulate that rigor and to direct it through his presentation. If the aphorism resonates with the reader he will say: Yes, that is how it is. You have described it clearly. That is the best it can do. This resonance is rigor and it does not take the form of lengthy explanation. The rigor is what is present through absence--in the blank space surrounding the aphorism. (Ludwig and Fred are both misunderstood for this reason: their styles demand so much of the reader as to leave themselves open to the charge of not being philosophical.)

Because it gets back to this: the thought is an act. The aphorism is the closest in form to the thought itself. There is no system. The thought appears. It dangles on its own as an aphorism alongside other aphorisms. The reader may see a connection, or he may not. There may even be no connection apparent to the writer of the aphorism. Thoughts have this murky quality.

They are enigmatic as in a dream: we are troubled because we do not see how the thought fits in with the others. Yet it came to us and it did not come to any other. We feel we should know and understand because it is ours. And this desire to know and understand is when a thought gets mangled and the force of the act of its appearance is destroyed.

Through explanation we impose upon thoughts a form that disagrees with their content. We end up explaining them away with other words in an effort to be rigorous. The aphorism, however, best maintains the original form of the thought and the force with which it appeared. When expressed in its purity it does not require adding to. The thought as act stands alone.

My goal is to prepare myself through training to receive thoughts, good ones, and to arrange them in the way that best reveals their connection. The aphorism is the form.

And what of the training, Moraline? The training is physical. I must be a man of activity, with a strong body, and active as much as possible. The thoughts born of a frail and weak body caused by too much sitting are forced thoughts. The man who sits tries to think. He gets himself into quagmires of language too easily. Because he does not use his body he uses words, and he uses too many of them.

Philosophy should aspire to less words, not more. It should aspire finally to silence. The problems have gone. The problems have disappeared in the activity of life.

What appears as a philosophical problem can be made to disappear with a change of perspective. Ludwig has spoken of this and wrote a whole book full of such changes in perspective as they applied to specific language problems. But while he writes of a perspective change using language, why not a perspective change by changing the form of life itself? By acting in a new way? There were certain ideas I was once puzzled or troubled by, but by riding a bicycle in foreign lands these troubling ideas no longer make their appearance. (“Only riding alone can take it out of me.”)

People remain philosophically troubled because they lack the courage to change their form of life.

The short stories and poems and photographs are important too. It all can connect if you look at it long enough. It will resonate with you, or it will not. Your form of life may be incompatible with what I have created--these aphorisms and short stories and poems may not make any sense to you.

But maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I have no rigor and hide behind bad, incomplete writing, making some bizarre demand on the reader that he supply the rigor. That could be true. Maybe these thoughts really are incomplete. I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter because these thoughts are not finally for others. These aphorisms and writings are notes for myself as I attempt to change my behavior and act differently in the world. All of my writing is evidence of new paths being tried, sometimes hacking away slowly through the brush, and at other times going back to some way I had abandoned.

I am more concerned with the quality of my action than the quality of my writing.

What Am I Doing Here?

There were previously big projects. A journey to Ushuaia. Then a journey over the Paso Los Libertadores. Now there is the emptiness that follows their completion. I sit in a dirty hostel in Mendoza listening to Europeans strum guitars, drink beer, make plans for dinners and clubs and talk of coming bus rides to other cities where they will do it all over again. I belong to the mountains and long roads, the camping in the high hills, the quiet nights looking up at the foreign constellations from my tent window, the wind quieted, and I am never alone. But here in a city with no project for my body, I am alone. I am not ready to begin the sitting and writing I plan to do. The tent, the stove, the gear is all useless. It is desolation.

At least in Ushuaia I could camp, and I camped with others who had traveled very far to where the road had ended. There was nothing filthy about them. They were only honorable, because men who go long distances on the road have honor. We could communicate where we had been and what we had learned and we were comrades. But here, with these pleasure-seekers and vacationers it is emptiness and we share nothing. They come quickly to a country and see its cities in a few weeks time and return to jobs and girlfriends and boyfriends and security. It makes me miserable to share their air, to sit near them, to hear their conversations. It is a mistake to have gotten off the bike. I have stopped riding too early. I must discover a new project. There is somewhere to go, somewhere far away and difficult to ride to and I will go there. I will be happily alone again. Only riding alone can take it out of me.

AGE 35

So much loose soil, gravel and stone
Most stripped down by water and wind
The rest by other forces, some a man lets into his life
Knowingly.

His friends are gone.
The dead ones are far peaks, too far, too far,
They inspire his strength against the snows,
Or when the glaciers move,
But they are too far to help.

Because what remains is only one man,
What remains is a mountain.

Mendoza, Argentina 3/11/2011

Aphorisms from the Paso Los Libertadores

1. Do not think for a moment that much of Fred’s philosophy did not come as a result of his denying himself women. Had he had Salome he might have stopped writing. Or certainly what he would have written would not be as remembered. Nothing alters or ends a man’s ability to create like the love of a beautiful woman.

2. Had Fred been physically powerful he would have been the complete philosopher, possibly the first.

3. Think of the long days riding the bicycle in foreign lands as the ploughing and seeding of something as yet unknown. Think of the sitting and the writing as the harvest and the discovery.

4. There is always a cost to the great idea, and it is foremost a physical one.

5. Only in the high mountains will you learn if you are great or merely talented. And only a journey over the high passes will allow you the perspective to understand those who have also traveled there before you. (You cannot transcend your way to these heights from an office cubicle or a university classroom.)

6. The journey must be open-ended, so that you can end it at the right time.

7. The mountains are great because they are what remains of the earth after the waters and winds and snows have torn away what was weakest. The pebbles and dirt are the evidence we have of what did not endure. Yet even the strongest will one day be broken down and each day they are a little more reduced. The point is to endure as long as possible, and to endure gracefully.

Punta Arenas

It is remarkable the cultural difference. Argentine women by contrast are cold. The Chilean woman will let her glance at you linger and you will see the warmth and the desire. The Argentine woman would never reveal such, and she would not be caught by you if she was looking at you. She would not give you that satisfaction. Argentine woman hide their sexual interest. But wow, Maria-Jose is a fine, dark beauty who works at the Coffee Net in Punta Arenas. That smile of hers damn whooo boy damn hot damn. Its a shame I am leaving tomorrow. Maybe I have been sitting for too long. Yes. I have. Maybe the Patagonian women of the small Argentine towns are ugly. Yes. They were. That is true. The Chilean women are not known for beauty, yet they all seem so beautiful here in Punta Arenas. It is a fine city, with a nice plaza. I like the trees around the plaza and the wide, one-way avenues that cross at the plaza. It is a fine plaza and very clean and the buildings around it are all freshly painted. There is a fine statue in the plaza. Maybe it is Magellan. The statue makes the plaza even finer. You may not find a finer one. Maybe you will. There are pretty Chilean women walking around the plaza. I watch them. I want to stop riding my bike and to sit and to take a proper room and to sleep with them. They would not sleep in my tent with me. I can see they expect more. Hot damn Maria-Jose is a fine woman the red lipstick the long black hair the skin color that dark and soft and fresh and yes i like that and olive shaped eyes a dimple in her cheek and she just smiles and smiles and smiles. Man oh man women can be fine. Man oh man a woman can ruin everything. Man oh man a woman can ruin a man.