Some thoughts on Bronze Age Mindset 3 years too late
SOF once fortnightly weekly newsletter, 23 nov 2022
It's a hot, humid tropical night. Oppressive. Like wading through a thick invisible mist, but it is not cooling; lukewarm. Storm flirt tantalising me on the outskirts of the area I am based, within sight. I know it will not arrive to end this misery. Edging us over and over, we are driven mad with the thought of relief, with the final spasm that will allow us to relax finally, to be rid of compulsive, uncontrollable desire for respite.
I am abandoned. I sweat like blind lesbian at fishmonger stall; droplets feel like insects using my back as a treadmill. I cannot stop them. Is the federal reserve involved in this? HAARP, yes. HAARP is controlling this weather. Chairman Powell and his flunkies attempt to jam this message with powerful mind-control rays, HAARP attempt for a two-pronged attack, hoping I will go mad and submit. Trying to send me insane?
There is a noiseless eldritch-inspired silence outside. No hum of large ute motors or apprentice tradies throwing their usual best Sunday night circle work. No other sounds typical of this time, like cricket or cicada.
A giant toad sits on my window sill. I can see her waiting, yet there is no light. Her skin is rough. A shadow betrays a warted exterior and her proper form to me.
Maybe this is the problem? Is toad a terrible omen? I see a group of Dayak shamans working against me in mind's eye. Last I was in Balikpapan, my driver said if you were not careful, they would try to steal your penis with forest magic. There were many cases of villagers warring with Dayaks waking up without penises. The driver's name was David. Only David, like many Indonesians, a single name.
He explained to me Dayak warlocks were capable of much genitalia-disappearing mischief. He said I should have been more careful in their forests. I check for my cock now. It is still here. Perhaps they now seek to subvert great aims anticipate this message, and seek to thwart this review?
Maybe the Amitābha Buddha and his earthly adherents, who seek to destroy me and stop my great sin, cover the earth here in a shroud of supernatural silence, preceding my doom as a final warning to me?
Heating me to the point of delusion in one last sensory torture session before I am sent to hell for a few billion years, where I will be mercilessly prodded by bamboo sticks. And then, only then, maybe, free to begin samsara again, from square one. I shiver at the all too human malevolence that is set on me, yet the message must be promote.
If all this is for the GREAT sin of attempting to liberate the overly severe, the greatly serious and the fierce mild.
Oh no, ohh no, this heat is a warning; I know it. Hair raises on the back of the neck. Asiatic screams in some Lovecraftian gurgling dialect not heard this side of Taiwan straight.
I wrap a lotus flower headband around my head and tighten it with finality. I must offer my view, regardless of the danger.
BAM, of course, is the work of the Bronze Age Pervert. This is the first time I've written about it. Listening to the audiobook first time in a while on recent morning walks has brought its messaging back into my mind. It's a very energising book. I got more from it this time, which indicates real quality.
In the past, given my very peculiar brand of lunacy, I've typically been forced to work, think, and, most importantly for me, experiment alone - since, as we all know, just reading is massively weaksauce.
No one wants to hear anything I've got to say, just like no one wants to hear anything those who taught me and influenced me had to say. I remember while one of them was still alive, they'd constantly quip, 'this is not for the masses, even for the people that do get it, even many of them will not do the work and will just speak and think about it. I've noticed this even in my new practice; people can make vast and measurable improvements, but trying to get them to stick to it takes a lot of work. And so, trying to make something attractive, even with results, is indeed extraordinarily difficult. The filthy human scumbot, regardless of what it says, wishes to maintain homeostasis no matter how miserable it is.
Aside from a few comrades on a few obscure forums here and there, the path of being a lunatic is necessarily a lonely one. I mean being a genuine lunatic, not just a political dissident or right-wing trad female with arm tattoos. Someone might have a very naughty theory about Jews or women, and that's edgy and anti-social sure - but when you have ideas that are unpalatable to everyone, even self-proclaimed 'dissidents' (who are usually just spiteful normies in disguise). That is a whole other thing.
For better or worse, as a result of my fate and those who have influenced my thought and practice, I've ended up in this kind of place.
And that's why reading a book like BAM was very refreshing indeed. Having been sick of the politics for their own sake, sick of the stultified stuffed shirt nonsense that got recycled repeatedly, here was a book with an attractive message. An energising message. Such works are always best since they acknowledge man's inherently irrational nature. A nature that, at its best, demands inspiration above all else.
Although I approach things from a somewhat different angle, my perspectives in their totality more or less match up with this book's essential outlook or message. As far as I can tell, anyway. In fact, that's what sent me to Twitter; once I read it, I was excited there were people out there who may have looked at things in such a way. However disappointing that has been since.
What impressed me was how many of the 'man overcoming man' type messages are communicated. Whoever the author is, you can tell that he has not just lifted something, he has learned it, imbibed it, and it's become an organic part of his blood and sinew. This much is obvious.
On the other hand, many people I know and respect get very, very pissy when BAP gets mentioned. I really don't get this. I always tell them they're not quite getting it. Usually, such people are hardcore intellectuals and rationalists. This says something.
I'd like to offer some observations towards what I've noticed about the kinds of guys BAM get's the better of. I see these same traits in some groups I occasionally check in with, given my increasingly fleeting surface interest in some religious topics.
It is interesting to note why I believe such religious, serious types get pissy or catty with such a book. It's the same as the type that would get angry with some of the messages of my teachers back in that day, where I inhereted my non-dogmatic, amoral, life-centric and rejection of the otherwordly attitudes of the religious. This trait is something I rail against in these young men at a cost. This message is that they have been led to be entirely without life. And their embrace of the otherwordly is nothing but a mask for them to not face the realities of their world. So it's unsurprising that many would reject a book that says the opposite.
Many of these guys that take religion or philosophy, or whatever else - very seriously - and are very serious good boys who practice the dharma or religion x or philosophy y very, very seriously.
You know the type - reading their posts, your internal monologue quickly changes to a prissy, stuck-up, gay dandy victorian accent - with a female inflection. Why can't I read their posts as usual? Why does their spirit of phrasing force me to resort to the comedic inflections of a closet case Welsh vicar?
It all comes down to one intrinsic animating metaphysical belief that operates as the hamster wheel of their subconscious - moral superiority.
A fake, personality-masking type of moral superiority that has to be just about the most wicked sleights of hand that our sneaky, dishonest species has yet devised.
Often, this acts as a shield used by those who were perhaps more sensitive, got beaten up by the bully, or wasn't the cool guy at school that all the women loved and other kids respected. And, well, It's always easier to act superior than to acknowledge you're, at least in some respects, inferior. Or at least that you're not as much as you could be.
Do some work? Forget it. Read a text that paints my inferiority as morally superior? Yes, please, I'll have myself a large serving of that.
And as a result, they force me to read their posts this way.
Moral superiority is a lazy life position. And I say this as someone who definitely wasn't the alpha at school.
On a greater societal level, moral superiority offers the so-called progressive (and many others) a chance to find evil everywhere except in themselves. And worse yet, to cover up petty resentments. Many who aren't progressives adopt essentially the same position. Strangely enough. This is a pan-human affliction.
If someone presents an argument from a perspective of moral superiority, be very, very sceptical. Always remember that deep down, we are a sneaky, lying, wicked beast, and these species-level features are very much intrinsic to us all. We should always be on the lookout for these behaviours. Unfortunately, these traits cannot be unlearned, dephilsophified, religiously removed or edumuhcated out of us.
If anything, words and concept structures do a very effective, elaborate job of covering up these things. They are steroids to reinforce our worst features. If you're not careful.
Those who come from a place of moral superiority or, more often than not, the worst offenders in acting immorally.
Embracing all the worst excesses of sexual moralism, a 'serious man persona', or a stultified, joyless, boring librarian lifestyle does not mean your biology and it's nastier, pettier drives will forget you. You can't read and speak morals to find a way out of this. You will act petty out. More so if you've covered it up with moral superiority.
Many of these types are entirely without energy. I see no power in them. From my perspective, the most irksome element is their complete and utter lack of humour. Admittedly that's just me. I like a drink and laugh with my friends at dinner.
BAP is a funny guy. I fail to see how one couldn't find it amusing even if one disagreed with his platform.
As I always say to these kids, because that's what many of them are, 'you don't need hard religion'. Or your silly idea of what you think that is. You don't need a barn, a mammy, or a family at 21. You don't need to listen to your contaminated parents and what they think you should do. You don't need to be politic-fagging online constantly. You need to leave school, grab a motorbike or a surfboard, get some skills, and embrace some risk. Reject what they want you to do.
Otherwise, you'll be lived by a nihilism beyond your comprehension. This is, as we all know, the fundamental psychic disposition of the leftist. But if you're not careful, you can quickly end up in the same headspace. Therefore, all such appeals to superior morality as a way to go through life should be wholly rejected.
I want to write more on BAM from the perspective of overcoming yourself in the not-too-distant future. Inshallah
-A