The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love Pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. If there arose a man who loved Pimlico, then Pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; Pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. For decoration is not given to hide horrible things: but to decorate things already adorable. A mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it. A lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck. If men loved Pimlico as mothers love children, arbitrarily, because it is THEIRS, Pimlico in a year or two might be fairer than Florence.
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Vithericus
November 1, 2023
The thrilling side of novelty ensures there’s a hideous aspect to it as well. In order to grip your attention, it has to shock you in some way. In order to shock you, it must be irreverent and transgressive of some aesthetic norm (good proportions are familiar and familiarity is the enemy of the ‘brand new’) , while at the same time satiating some burning desire; think of the grotesque botox lips, the bum lift, tight licra or the flared pants and hair styles of the 60s and 70s. Like porn or junk food, as soon as fashion satiates the primary urge that made it appealing, it becomes disgusting. After it’s become ‘dated’ and ‘out of fashion’, almost everyone can clearly see its ugly aspects (something which myself, as off-modern, could see from the beginning).
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Vithericus
October 28, 2023
So that’s what I just wanted to say today, it’s just ‘stay curious, look after your mental health and if you do find you’ve hit an avenue where you don’t think you’re being validated or the person you’re talking to isn’t connecting with you, then it’s okay to end that and start looking for something different.
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Finally, being ‘on the right side of history’ does not fix the problem of the so called ur-fascism lurking in the dark; progressives, liberals and socialists of all stripes are guilty of the same instrumentalisation of moral intuitions (purity excluded, admittedly) for the ultimate goal of self-deification. The film thus ends on a disappointing note, one too familiar for our contemporary culture – that of endless denounciation and cynicism; the messed up Lockhart fails to find a cure for his ailments, but simply by escaping the predatory Uber-Swiss blond beasts he somehow is ‘liberated’ of somthing bad, and it is implied that in the end he gets Hannah for himself; both having gotten rid of their tyrannical Patriarchs (Hannah by direct murder, like a good third waver), both free to roam the earth, follow their appetites and maybe become involved romantically, or simply fucking off to wherever their emotivist adventure will lead them next.
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Vithericus
November 6, 2022
ST is one of the wisest people in the Reactosphere. His channel is hugely underrated and every video stretches your mental abilities to their absolute limit. ST recently declared that he no longer considers himself part of the DR, and after watching his latest video (Map of Heaven), I think I understand why.
I too am disappointed with the online dissident right. Still, the following thoughts are an attempt to capture the essence of what it means to be reactionary and why I still think that progressive theology is a trojan horse that has to be resisted at all cost.
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Vithericus
November 2, 2022
The Distributist is among my favourite content creators of the dissident right, bringing an earnest, mature perspective into a medium that always gravitates towards frivolity and shallowness. Still, despite his overwhelmingly positive influence in our communities, I cannot ignore the problems he fails to diagnose in modernity.
The core of my critique will focus on his thoughts on what right-wing contemporary art could look like, specifically focusing on his latest substack essay, ‘The (He)art Reset’.
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found myself near a huge Ash tree in the middle of a green meadow; about 50 yards away I noticed a large multitude running in a state of violence and horror. I then witnessed a series of large bangs that shook the earth like quakes. I realised the multitude of humans were being squeezed by a huge cyclops, a one-eyed giant like Polyphemus.
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Art, if it’s art at all, aims at supreme aesthetic excellence. It does not even deign to notice its audience. If the whole world is inferior to art, art doesn’t give a rat’s ass. Art is not competing with anything but itself, the past, and the future. If it is not sub specie aeternitatis, it is not art.
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Vithericus
April 22, 2022
Hooded stranger: ‘From this lofty keep I could nightly look out upon the city and its constant mutations. A different city every night. Yes, the city is indeed also a vessel. And it’s one that obediently takes the shape of very strange contents. The Great Chemists are working out unfathomable formulae down there. Look at those lights outlining the different venues and avenues below. Look at their lines and interconnections. They’re like a skeleton of something… the skeleton of a dream, the hidden framework ready at any moment to shift its structure to support a new shape. The Great Chemists are always dreaming new things and risking that they may wake up while doing so. Should that ever happen you can be assured there will be hell to pay.’
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Vithericus
February 7, 2022
Our lady of the dessicants, of dryness, tidiness, warmth and safeness,
Our lady of teetotalers, hypochondriacs, disabled and dissenters.
Our lady of planning and sterility, of choice and infertility
Who plans all things, who cleans all things
Who decontaminates and deconstructs all things
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