Right and wrong, Good and evil, Truth and lies, White and black?

Busson is a proponent of "venture philanthropy", which seeks to multiply the effectiveness of charitable pursuits by applying to them the same management practices which are used in business ventures.

Venture philanthropy sounds more like egophiliac to me and an obscene oxymoron.

Hedge funds, the black beast of capitalism, sleeping with charity while getting filthy rich in the process and I can help but feeling a little edgy myself now.

Getting a fortune of 150 Million Euros while dating the likes of Elle McPherson and Uma Thurman in the process can only remind me of Balzac’s “With great fortune comes great crimes”.

Ironically dating the daughter of the American representative of the Dalai Lama well it’s just that: IRONIC. 

Mind you  Tenzin Gyatso doesn’t look any poorer than the pope himself. The world is full of irony.

I know that good and bad, truth and lies, the standards of morality and all that jazz are supposed to be RELATIVE but one has to draw the line somewhere no?

I can’t help again but being reminded of some lines of this wannabe holy book I read so many times: the epitome of goodness apparently, the standard of justice and truth.

1Jn 2:15  Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.

1Jn 2:16  For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.

And again

Joh 15:18  If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you.

Joh 15:19  If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.

So the world, the COSMOS certainly loves Busson and his likes.

And in this absurd obscurity of nihilism here it gets all very confusing.

There is an inner desire in each one of us for some sort of justice I suppose, and since we never find it down here we tend to invent it somewhere else and justice as I see it will never be anything but wishful thinking for eons to come.

Some perfect world to come, where no one is burning in hell for eternity and moreover where no retarded ignoramus is rejoicing over this convoluted so-called fact.  That alone is such misguidance that it removes all hopes forever for humanity.

Can one just stand here and say “This is wrong” and “that is wrong”?
Or the opposite, “This is good” and that is good too”?

Of Course no one cares of what one thinks, especially when one has money.

In the meanwhile my utopia/dystopia is getting more and more muddled.

I cannot invent the perfect world in our human terminal limitations.

Can’t see it either, not now, not in a million years, not in a billion, not in 5 billion.

After that ‘time’ one would assume it is beyond any hope now.

A sense of innocence, of infantile wide-eyed amazement, of justice and peace and love we all want but none of us will ever get.

Is that what differentiates us from monkeys and does it necessarily make us better than apes now?

Robert Thurman reminded me of Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby” running away to Kathmandu, divorcing his wife to “find himself” and although he is a very educated man I can’t help but feeling he is somewhat like all of us more or less very misguided.

Anyway that ‘venture philanthropy’ sure got me thinking now. 

Wow what an odd concept!

It reminded of how much so-called charity money goes into administration fees and advertisement and what not. 

150 million euros of it now is a mighty mega admin fee.

Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing seems to be trivial at this point really.

Of course something is deadly wrong with this world but no one has ever ever come close to remotely fix it and less of all religion and/or politics so what is left to do?

Bear and grin? 

Eat and drink and be merry? 

Or more importantly for the sensitive souls, go on top of a mountain
and close your eyes, your ears and your heart while you hold your breath.

Talking about it ain’t gonna do shit but I am still posting this.

A fool is a fool is a fool. :) 

One wasted day at the time

Before too long…

All this will be gone , all this delusional dream that I could have been someone, that I could have been a contender, that I could have left a mark, a name, a memory, a legacy, …SOMETHING

Many have left something behind in much less time.
I have ‘beaten’ Balzac and Proust and Christ, I have beaten Christ himself,
let’s not mention Alexandre the Great here and so many others.
In May 2014 I will have ‘beaten’ Dickens himself.

All ‘beaten’! In YEARS that is.

Soon, this consciousness, this potential, this great white hope will be gone and forgotten.

Would I have an eternity, I still don’t see me leaving a mark, given that many others would also have an eternity to leave their mark, but then again was I the only one, that eternity alone would be my flavourless mark.

What does it matter really one might ask?
Do you think Balzac, Proust and the above mentioned are any happier for the better that they are ‘remembered’?

In all probability soon enough, give it 4 or 5 billion years, all of us will disappear in utter dust, nothing left at all.
No memory, no books, no deed, no records, no digital mark of any kind.  I do expect that Voyager gold CD to be long gone as well.

Maybe in the year 802,701 there will be some vestiges of old forgotten memories no one listens to anyway, and maybe Herbert George was totally wrong and we will be all gone by then also.
Who knows?

Truth is most of our forefathers are forgotten and have no history or memory whatsoever. 
Who knows anything much about the daily lives of our great- great- forebearers anyway?

I just can’t help though watching every minute going by as one breath closer to death sometimes and wonder why?

The good old sempiternal questions: Who am I? Where am I? What is the purpose of life? And more importantly who’s gonna be in the bottom two on the X factor tonight? :)

A longing for deeper meaning, for so called ‘truth’ which is at best a recognition of some of the lies methinks sometimes.
The antithetic Lethe river.

A longing for ‘true’ knowledge, here is that word again.

A longing for wisdom and sense in an unwise and insensible world.

Maybe all a disguise for a god complex
and a sense of narcissistic superiority?

What would I do with the truth anyway?
And with all knowledge that passeth understanding? 

What did Charlie Gordon do? 

Here is one that is still 'hanging around' at 86, Daniel Keyes,
50 years after his absolute masterpiece,
May he be remembered forever!

Most actually just literally lose their ‘minds’ as soon as they get too close to the fire.

The infamous Icarus Complex.

I watch things judging people’s creativity or lack of when mine is not any better when all I can say is I could do better with the subject but I don’t, as a matter of fact I wouldn’t know how. 
I see a great potential and I see the possibilities and the lack thereof but bottom line I am nothing but a Salieri who thanks to Peter Shaffer, F. Murray Abraham, and Milos Forman, at least WILL be remembered for something as the ‘patron saint’ of MEDIOCRITY.

I still would not know what to do with my favourite subject of all: dystopia.

Dystopia and time travel certainly have tons of potential but none I can exploit properly.

In the meanwhile I guess I can keep on reading the works of the true masters even though master is a loaded word.  Not sure what to think so far of shallow pedantic spoiled rotten rich child Marcel here… fascinating at times and so irritating at others with his sycophant snobbery and warped little mind, his fake duel and all his utter bullshit and so much of it… a bit like life itself really, digging though tons of manure to find one or two precious gems. No gems that I could use I am afraid but pleasant to look at when one falls upon them and quickly forgets them isn’t it what we do when we search for lost time now?

Attracted by the old and proven classics all the while neglecting other good potential dystopias like the Veronica Roth Divergent series. Still haven’t finished the Lois Lowry’s quatuor.

Anyway as long as there is life there is hope ‘they’ say,
don’t ‘they’?

Let’s make it do Dickens' 58th now and move on. J

One wasted day at the time.

P.S. Editing is not my forte but a second though occurred here that 'remembrance' in many ways is also very provincial or parochial as I like to call it. Notice there is no Chinese, Portuguese, Greek or Romanian, Norwegian or Senegalese, or any other nation celebrated memories here and in history, we tend to remember them locally like Louis Hemon for instance.  Wikipedia is not exactly the barometer of success but still. :) 

And the hours go by like minutes 
and the shadows come to stay 
So you take a little something 
to make them go away 
And I could have done so many things, baby 
If I could only stop my mind from wonderin' what 
I left behind and from worrying 'bout this wasted time 

Ooh, another love has come and gone 
Ooh, and the years keep rushing on 
I remember what you told me 
before you went out on your own: 
"Sometimes to keep it together, 
you got to leave it alone." 

So you can get on with your search, baby, 
and I can get on with mine 
And maybe someday we will find, 
that it wasn't really wasted time 

  

Alexander III of Macedon (20/21 July 356 – 10/11 June 323 BC) 32
Honoré de Balzac  20 May 1799 – 18 August 1850)  51
Marcel Proust (10 July 1871 – 18 November 1922)   51
William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 (baptised) – 23 April 1616)  almost 53
Charles John Huffam Dickens (7 February 1812 – 9 June 1870) 58