A peace treaty for our time would have to include a ban on capeshit and pop fantasy.
Forwarded from Quantus tremor est futurus - Actaeon Journal
The extent of the world civil war is seen in the fact that the individual can no longer appear neutral. Every issue arrives with the force of war, and war becomes a commonplace. The voice of the private man equals the nation in law, then drowns it out.
Forwarded from Lazarus Symposium
“When Guevara says: “the guerrilla is the Jesuit of war”, he is thinking about the unconditional nature of its political unfolding. The life story of every famous partisan, starting with Empecinado, shows this. The person without rights seeks his justice in enmity. In it, he finds the meaning of the matter and the meaning of justice, once the shell of protection and obedience he inhabited has been broken, or the system of rules of legality from which he expected justice and legal protection has been broken.”
- Carl Schmitt
- Carl Schmitt
Forwarded from La feuille d'érable toujours
"We went on down the road and there came another salvo. As the last of the crashing, soul-tearing smashes rang in my ears I saw Mickey spin and fall. I let go of Hughes and jumped to him. He had been hit in several places and could not possibly live.
"Mickey – Mickey!" I called his name and raised him up and he nestled to me like a child, his white face upturned to mine.
"At last," he murmured, "I'm through." Then his whisper was shrill and harsh. "I never had a white tunic or a red one," he said. "I don't want – to kill people. I hate war – and everything. Why did they do it – why – did – they?"
He seemed delirious and I tried to soothe him, but he would not listen. He talked about what we had read in my little guide book, the way boys trained for fighting, the soldiers killed in France and Belgium, the other wars that had been fought, the futility of the endless repetition. "And we just go on and on," he finished. "Doing things because – because – "
His voice sank so low I could not hear but his lips still moved. Little white-faced Mickey! I held him there, held him tight, and tried to comfort him as he grew weaker and weaker. Then he twisted, strained in my arms, "... and we go on – on – on – on," he shrilled and stiffened."
- Will R. Bird, And We Go On, p. 91-92
"Mickey – Mickey!" I called his name and raised him up and he nestled to me like a child, his white face upturned to mine.
"At last," he murmured, "I'm through." Then his whisper was shrill and harsh. "I never had a white tunic or a red one," he said. "I don't want – to kill people. I hate war – and everything. Why did they do it – why – did – they?"
He seemed delirious and I tried to soothe him, but he would not listen. He talked about what we had read in my little guide book, the way boys trained for fighting, the soldiers killed in France and Belgium, the other wars that had been fought, the futility of the endless repetition. "And we just go on and on," he finished. "Doing things because – because – "
His voice sank so low I could not hear but his lips still moved. Little white-faced Mickey! I held him there, held him tight, and tried to comfort him as he grew weaker and weaker. Then he twisted, strained in my arms, "... and we go on – on – on – on," he shrilled and stiffened."
- Will R. Bird, And We Go On, p. 91-92
❤1
"Quicker to the field of blood than to a wedding. Quicker to a ravens' feast than to a burial..."
Forwarded from Godfrey'sBouillon
A beloved friend was Ywain,
It is wrong that he is beneath a cairn.
It is a sad wonder to me in what land
Marro's only son was slain.
It is wrong that he is beneath a cairn.
It is a sad wonder to me in what land
Marro's only son was slain.