EGR/MB: did you ever wish you were still that crazy?

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Christopher Locke

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Mar 14, 2009, 2:42:01 PM3/14/09
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Valued Readers,

I was just about to start a Mystic Bourgeoisie post about a guy named Laurens van der Post, and because of the following quote, I thought I'd call it Enchanté

We needed to believe Van der Post. He pandered to a part of the Western imagination that longs for the so-called natural - a pristine wilderness and untouched primitives - as long as it's not here and not us. Jones puts it more simply: "We were all grateful to be enchanted."

But when I tried to save the file in my editor, it warned me that I already had a file by the same name -- enchante.html --  and did I really want to overwrite it? Because of the accent at the end of enchanté, it took me a while to find the original file. And when I did, I saw that my local version contained a graphic that was definitely NSFW. As if I care. But I wondered: my god, did I really post that graphic a graphic? More time passes, googling my own stuff, and I finally find it -- sans beaver shot -- and I am amazed to read it again. It's from 29 August 2005, back when I was in, let's say, a more extreme state of mind than I am today. I suppose I'm grateful (I am, I am) not to be that crazed any more, but sometimes I miss that... well, that fire

Here's a clip. It helps if you click up this mp3 clip while you read it -- and set it to loop (if you can).

Consider the possibility that the world was never what it used to be, however much we wish it had been. Thus the mourning of the magicians. Thus childhood's end in a field of broken pentacles. What's passed has been received in full. The long night over, nothing left of yesterday, not even darkness. In a freshening wind, only future to look forward to, the horses paw the earth, the beggars ride...


Die Entzauberung der Welt

Max Weber wrote that. It means "the disenchantment of the world." He didn't write the music, no, that's Robert Fripp on Eno's here come the warm jets, back when Eno could rock. High brow, low brow. Better like that if you mix it up. Jam it all together, run it through the blender, crank it. Juxtaposition being almost everything. You ready there, Max? Then hit it, Herr Doktor...



...it means that principally there are no mysterious incalculable forces that come into play, but rather that one can, in principle, master all things by calculation. This means the world is disenchanted. One need no longer have recourse to magical means in order to master or implore the spirits, as did the savage, for whom such mysterious powers existed.

~ Max Weber, Science as a vocation 
in H. Gerth and C.W. Mills, (eds.) 
From Max Weber 
New York: Oxford University Press (1946)

Savage. You like that? Let that Fripp clip loop a few more times -- you're getting close. The world is... alles was der Fall ist. So said Wittgenstein. And Metheny: as falls witchita, so falls witchita falls. Everybody gets a hand in. Everything that is the Case -- the lead guitar in Neuromancer, so to speak. Unless you're thinking Wintermute. There is no way things are.

But oh the nostalgia for how they might have been. Attempts to re-enchant the world abound. But too self-conscious, clumsy, not the same. Once you know you're doing it yourself, all you get is a pantheon of plastic gods and an embarrassment of bitches. Because instrumental rationality got in the way of all that sacredness. Of all that wilding Dionysian discord. Of all those spooky bedside comforts instrumental in your own undoing. Pandemic panegyric self regard. I'm going to count backwards from 100 now. Just relax. Gonna take you down to tinkertoys. 


The rest isn't silence; it's quite noisy -- and it's here.

btw, I'm taking roll call today. When you get this message, please answer "here" -- humor me. 

thank you.

RB

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