Coffee, the drink of (sub)urban busybodies, bestows industrious reasoning that comes with its manic energy. A favorite of Kant, Voltaire, and Kierkegard.

Beer, the liquid bread of the masses, is versatile enough to act as a stimulant or narcotic in any given situation, filling the stomach and the mind with emotion. A favorite of Luther, Marx, and many others—Nietzsche (and many others) hated it.

Wine, nectar of the gods, sweet bounty of the Earth embuned by the heavenly muses with the very essence of art and philosophy. Favorited by Heidegger, Avicenna, Socrates, kings, emperors, and gods.

A great majority of the talk on race only occurs at the broadest scale. What dividing the world by colors accomplishes is nothing but the blurring of one's own position, or more precisely, the dulling of the edge with which one strikes. After all a race is a way of Life: the way one comes into the world, sees the world, acts in the world, and leaves the world. Race is a sword which can be sharpened well so as to cut straight and deep or poorly so as to fail, to say nothing of the skill of its wielder involved.

A race is not so much a color of men but the common spirituality that marks a particular sort of man, and properly refers more towards a family rather than an entire civilization. At least, one aristocratic gens compared to another could be said to be of a separate race, while in another way both are arguably more similar to one another than to the peasants on the whole. For one the peasants are united by their homogeneity in spirit, and peasant families can hardly be differentiated—the aristocrat is differentiated both from the peasant and his fellow aristocrat.

Broad races of color and continent are results of the vulgar racism of the modern peasant, who is unable to qualify the differences between himself and his neighbor unless they are plainly obvious. What is of greater concern with race should be matters of spirit, Weltanschauung, and actualized morality. One's race is a matter of what and how one is, the nature of one's being, and not a matter of appearance and declared identity (or worse, declared morality). To put it plainly: your neighbor who may look similar to and obstenibly participate in the same culture as you may very well be of a separate race.

7 days thinking about Rome.

Often all it takes to fix an unwarranted downturn of the spirit is to drink a glass of water. One can only imagine how much poor philosophy is a result of forgetting Hippocrates' wisdom.

"Richly gleaming, down below,
lie the lands that belong to him, and with him are
the youths striving for victory for the first time.
But he moderates
with the beat of his wings."
~ Hölderlin

She ascended, celestial bloodstain upended
The first hour's heavenly host
Routed from the sky, those dimmest of prophets die
Falling from the flash, only
Her escort Jupiter and high Saturn shining
Mold her molten bronze omen

The identitarianism of today is a simulacrum, a cheap imitation, of a true and natural identity. Today's "leftists" and "rightists" both attempt to commodify their own beingness into convenient but restricted frameworks of some ideal aesthetic with an anti-philosophy that can be summed up in a few pages, paragraphs, or God forbid, one or two sentences.

Life cannot be reduced to this.

Authentic love for one's folk and history is not expressed in cheap sloganeering, life is not a parliamentary voting campaign.

The attempts to create movements and parties themselves show plainly the lack of true tribe and familial ties we suffer from - but how depraved is it to create a "family" of ideologues. Only krisrallnacht or gulag await you when you let down your "brothers" in words - but family of blood, if pious, and family of cultus, give you spiritual communion that transcends words and deeds, and offer you reconciliation when you err as every human does.

Our Traditional morality commands man and woman to be more and more themselves, to express more and more decisively and boldly what makes one a man and the other a woman. For us, one and the same is the root of every value: heroism, overcoming oneself.

This differentiation establishes the natural difference in the ways of internal fulfillment for man and woman. To the gesture of the Warrior through pure action and the Ascetic through clear and virile renunciation, pass from life to "more than life" -

in woman ideally corresponds the heroism of giving her dedication entirely for another being - be it the man she loves or her son - in this finding the meaning of her life, her joy, her justification and liberation.

- Julius Evola, Il Corriere Padano

"Such (chivalric) love was desire rather than passion, a search rather than fulfilment, a worship of the unknown peak of perfection - snow-clad and tantalizing."
- "The Ways of Love", Norma Lorre Goodrich

"You are now souls, nothing but souls, all alone, disburdened by their bodies left to the devourers of the earth, vagabonds, if you will, in the immense day or night, but clairvoyants beyond what might be imagined."
~ Léon Bloy

Punching Right is not enough. You need to be forming trails of powder in the face of every grifter scared to say "DY-NO-MITE!" You need to be carrying a tuning fork in one hand and a sledgehammer in the other. "Grifters could be here" he thought. You need to be strutting, stalking like a pelican on the lookout for the slightest grift. "Grifters could be anywhere." You need to be checking and building the lines of powder, again and again and again, until the world becomes a storehouse. You need to be staying up all night contemplating passages and lines of attack. " I've been in this war before" he thought. You need to be maxxing death-war-mode against all vices of the lumpenindustrialist. You need to be seeing the hustle as a thousand brown suns. You need to know that the neighbourhood can never go back, and that it has always already been your neighbourhood. You need to be drinking $9 wine thinking how there is nothing tragic, nothing heroic, nothing mannerbund in the grift. You need to be thinking "I hate grifters" for eternity, and another, another, another. You need to be walking, and stalking, and casting eye-beams – – – until finally you can sleep.

Me when I rape right (intellectual Sabines capitulate under my theological ethnogenesis)

Are you preparing for pain and defeat?
You need to be.

GM

We must bear the weight of our failures for our own sake. It does no good to fool ourselves into believing we are still winners when we are not—if we were winners, why did we lose, and why do we continue to lose? If one's goal is Truth, lying to oneself can only compound the defeat.

This is essential to matters of race today. An un-truth cannot elevate a people, so denying reality guarantees nothing but continued pain for a doomed race. The question we should ask ourselves is: if our enemies are so wrong, why did they win? The answer is the painful reality we must confront.

"Greece and Rome, also, were created by this great, far-roving, culture bearing race of conquerors. In whatever part of the world it went, a different civilization was created, each of which was distinctive because it developed in tune with the environmental conditions in whatever location its history began, yet bearing unmistakable traces of its Aryan origin." - Francis Parker Yockey