The Solitudinarian 

 

The blood was dripping from his arm on the bed sheets. After a long day at the factory, building and assembling mufflers, he was tired, and didn’t even bother to wash the plasma that trickled down his elbow. The work, as hard as it was, did not really bother him so much, as did the simpleton proles whose odious demeanor he had to tolerate. It irritated him how these crude louts were so ignorant of the world – like most of the mindless oafs he encountered, rich or poor. Nonetheless, he felt a sense of satisfaction, having done his job. He was a solitary man. Rejecting the trivialities and herd-existence of society, he was determined to escape it. “I don’t remember exactly when I lost my innocence, but I think it just sort of faded away, like a distant port on the horizon. Things happen like that: whence you were once a child discovering the world, then, suddenly, the world turns on you, exposing the morbid truth underneath the layers of lies and hypocrisy. You’re grateful for realizing this, but you are never the same, and are left with the choice of accepting reality or escaping into fiction. For those brave souls who elect the real world, they cannot help but separate themselves from the bovine masses – as lone wolves, solitary vagabonds prowling in seclusion in a hostile environment. Glimpses into the black hole have left my soul clouded in a shadow of darkness – a giant void of nothing; no expression, no sentiment, no fear…just nothingness. But it is not hollow, for there lies something profound; the deep layers of nothing surreptitiously hide something. I long to plunge into the unknown and weather the tempest of the seas, the tempest in my mind, and watch the cascades of moonlight reflect on the ocean – to gorgeously disappear”, he uttered to himself, trying to vindicate his position. He felt it, tugging at him, on a daily basis, calling him from the abysm – and liked it, for it gave purpose. It was that secret which made him the introverted recluse – for that’s where he felt most at home. Deep down, his obdurate resistance was justified: by shunning the norms and temptations of his contemporaries, above the stench of the cosmopolitan swamp, he led a path of unhindered clarity.

 

Lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, taking a deep drag from a cigar, he thought about all the meaningless words that people prate, instead of quiet recollection about reality. “Liberal lip I hate, that gutter currency that swells the state – what filth surrounds me. What are these creatures? A people whose ancestors once wrested a continent from the aborigine savages through sheer force have been reduced to TV-addict idiots, gleefully staring into the tube in semi-hypnosis. Sniveling over ‘aid’ broadcasts of starving pickaninnies – bleating over the lowly and doting on the weak for their own morbid fixations. Depraved masochists on the path of self-destruction; for sentiment creates pity, dulling the brain to reason – the spillover of egalitarian wine. While clamorous mobs of perverts, effeminate wimps to epicene dykes have been emboldened to assert their ‘rights’. The byproducts of dysgenic democracy: proletarian imbeciles who acquiesce to their servitude as a prerequisite to being a “member of society”, proud of their bondage, another consumerist cattle. Vacuous souls who define themselves according to the products they purchase – most of which are made abroad; they live to buy stuff, devoid of any purpose, and the corporations reap profits. Decadent cows who spew garbage from their filthy mouths, nothing but gossip, rumours, hearsay, idle chatter, vacuous harangues: those with small minds speak of other people, those with mediocre minds talk of events, while those rare individuals with great minds ponder over ideas. Boobies enjoy talking about celebrities and buying worthless merchandise to fill their empty lives, while televangelists preach for more thoughtless handouts to subsidize their charlatanry. Not to mention the political prostitutes – professional shysters who herd the citizenry into polling booths to line their pockets in vaudeville popularity contests. Who gave the people the silly idea that their opinion matters or they’re sufficiently competent to make such decisions? The imbecile inculcation-chambers have done a thorough job in sabotaging the minds of youth under the pretense of ‘public education’ – the hallways stink with lecherous sluts and lowlife punks. We live in the Ignorant Age of international usury, whoring demagogues, shopping malls, cross-worshippers, bleeding-hearts, bigots and boors. Sanity is scarce, and so, insanity has become the norm. On one hand, the do-gooder scum grovel over the sickly, meddle in other peoples’ affairs, and act as nascent pests in fatuous hope to spread their impudent ‘gospel’, ‘human rights’, or other illusory notions. While, on the other hand, sloven curmudgeons blame everything on everyone else to justify their inflated egos, instead of taking responsibility for their own inadequacies and plight. The broken aristocracy has left the land spiritually desolate and muted. There remains only genetic residue."

 

“Of course, everyone thinks they know the truth, as long as it conforms to their superstitions. For them, “truth” is some abstract ideal, which is forever out-of-reach, but still, they insist, much like children who leave milk and cookies for Santa Claus, so he’ll bring them lots of presents. This helps simpletons justify their mental dishonesty with worthless bunk to befuddle the cranium – fact hurts their brain. Rational persons need not pander to such sludge, and may find inspiration before their very eyes – in reality, not fantasy. I refer to the natural world, the eternal competition of species, vying for the finite resources on earth. Humanoids are not detached from the natural world, but are an integral part of the animal kingdom. Through crimson-soaked hands and teeth our ancestors flourished – as savages in an untamed world. Civilization has a tendency to domesticate man, to make him soft and weak, but these primitive instincts have not disappeared. The virile still remember. That is where I derive my truth, for it justifies all action, and leaves no regret to its consequences. With the laws of survival, morality becomes blurred. There no longer exists any definite notion of good or evil, as both are intertwined for self-interest’s sake – what may be ‘good’ for one man may be considered ‘evil’ to another. It has always been such: the predator that hunts for prey may be viewed as evil from the standpoint of the victim, but the hunter doubtless feels it a righteous duty to feast on the feckless. To be an amoral scoundrel is no honour, but it works. Such are the horrors of reality."

 

“Horror is my companion. I have made it so through embracing the darkness that lurks beneath my decrepit soul, the sweet nightmares of rotting corpses and severed limbs strewn across an exhausted battlefield – that is the nihilism with which I welcome the end. To be sure, those men, best of their genetic stock, full of vigour and courage, met fates that were glorious and brief, juxtapose, the city squalor I must endure on a daily basis. Let the shadow of clarity envelop my Self, to harvest the weaklings – to take sanguineous joy in the righteous task of exterminating the rabble, that is the horror of horrors I relish. Praise to those assassins, those Nadir Shahs, whose respect for Nature manifests into acts of purification, cleansing the diseased earth of degenerates. Such are the thoughts that torment me. Dark visions, found in the deepest crevices; a ferocious thirst yearning to be quenched on the ripe gluttons – cow atop cow, neat mounds of biped skull – hapless serfs, who beg to be devoured. A world where the strong survive and the weak perish – ensuring the continuity of superior blood to the next generation – the means by which evolutionary progress is achieved. That is the primordial aggression from which we thrived, as a mammalian species: how far astray we have gone from this essential instinct – like dealated ants, scurrying in debasement; having lost its wings. I have regressed. I am the Ubermensch – soaring from the clouds."

 

“Do I follow religion? I cannot believe in that which does not exist – but I do know – the world is not capable of enlightenment, the rubes cannot handle it. For under the hijab there lie harlots whose garments precariously restrain them from their inherent depravity. For under that pious demeanor of praises there lies an envious bastard suppressing his wanton desires. So let bitches cover themselves, let the men’s beards flow, so as to maintain their faith – they deserve it."

 

Thinking of all the missed opportunities he had with the many attractive females whose advances he eschewed: “And what of women? At times, one may feel the inclination for a warm body to hold at night – to feel the feminine caress on the face. But that is folly. Bitches are for copulation – and, as far as I’m concerned, there can only be two kinds of people who beget offspring: those who are ignorant of the pain and misery that surrounds them, and those who are truly sadists, to have a child suffer the tortures of this hopeless world. There is no future here. And so, I enthrall in pensive reflection of unattainable things – such is my fate.”

 

By now he had fully convinced himself of the transparent logic of his views – the rationale of an iconoclast. To cement his resolve, he had written a poem, as a farewell gesture to sedentary life; something he’d been pondering over for ages; his methodical plan of escape was finally set:

 

The Consequent Path

Working on the line.
Buying some time.
Planning my escape.
From society gone ape.
Worth is measured in fiat,
While kept at Rothschild’s vault.
He deducts and swindles blood.
While the world turns to mud.
Obdurate misers, collect their cash.
Do-gooder shysters, smoking hash.
One steals, the other throws away;
No such thing as judgement day.
Bigot bums, cursing the slums.
Stocking up on ammo for guns.
Liberal punks preaching hugs.
Addicted to hallucinatory drugs.
Land of the brave, home of the free.
They are the nitwits of Democracy.
Popularity contests, every four years.
Absurdity validated through beers.
Bemused with sitcoms and sports,
Useless stats on running dolts.
Oblivious to surrounding decay,
Concern with spending the next pay.
The landscape became darker.
The cities increased in pollutants.
Crime riddled the streets with,
Hordes of incumbent mutants.
Thus, civilization came to rot.
While politicians were bought.
Inept creatures on the brink.
Before they become extinct.
But such doom is deserved.
For those who acquiesce deplete.
Western man has become,
Biologically obsolete.
Alas, such obscenity and lies,
Is not fit for a man with eyes.
I’ve opted to cast astray.
And sail across to distant bay.

 

Packing his bags, the solitudinarian set out on his journey to the harbour to retrieve the sailboat for which he had made arrangements. Treading along the maze of concrete jungle he felt excited and content, having eaten a rotisserie chicken, juice and a sundry assortment of tropical fruit, he had a comfortable stomach. Until the pleasant stroll was disturbed by an eye-soar; there, on the sidewalk was a throng of protesters holding placards and signs reading “socialism around the world”, and such, with red flags depicting the portrait of Mordechai. “How stupid, to idolize that putrid scribbler”. Feeling a sense of nausea, he walked past a desk handing out propaganda flyers, and, unable to restrain himself any longer, he uttered some comment to the desk clerk, which in turn was reciprocated by another obscenity. But, out of nowhere, there came an unexpected whack from behind by the end of a wooden stick on his head from one of the protestors. Turning around, he kicked the attacker between the legs, at which point the protestor and his ilk backed off. Shouting one last outcry, he finally walked away dismayed by the pointlessness of the encounter. “What a fat, disgusting slob – only a Communist would be so cowardly as to hit you from the back. I guess there is no conversing with such garbage – I could’ve had a more intellectual discourse at the zoo than with these two-legged refuse”. Noticing a wet sensation on his forehead, he glanced at the ground and saw blood dripping on the sidewalk. Realizing what had happened; he calmly made toward the nearest public bathroom and proceeded to clean himself up. The temporary cut did not bother him so much as did the obscenity of the whole spectacle. It merely confirmed the rotten nature of his environs – but he felt such disturbances as unnecessary and deleterious to his own personal hygiene. “Inciting the working class to revolt against their betters is an affront to the national organism. Every man has his place based on his abilities, nobody is equal, we all differ in our capacities, mostly due to hereditary quality. A cohesive group of people must depend on a hierarchical structure to maintain order and stability – ensuring advancement over their competitors. All group organizations depend on the natural leadership of an alpha male to provide security and strength for the pack. To plunder from one to provide handouts for another, and thus, ‘redistribute wealth’, is a crime against nature. Every man should work for his own bread, without relying on maternal provision; which creates laziness and ineptitude – the worst form of decadence. Socialism is the most primitive form of civilization – the Welfare State inevitably leads to national suicide. Pinko perverts continue to insist on their pipe dream of a ‘classless’ society and ‘equality’ for the dregs. In a healthy society, there would be a thorough cleanup of such garbage, but, as it is, the streets are littered with trash."

 

By now, night had fallen, and the city lights illuminated with a splendid man-made glow. An urbanite all his life, he thought about that familiar confine. “The city is a peculiar phenomenon. When Neolithic Man made the transition into urban settlements, a great revolution took place. Sporadic villages of cultural barbarians decided to grow surplus food and build fabulous structures to house these reserves, to sustain a specialized class of artisans and craftsmen – no longer was the sole concern of every tribesmen on hunger. Temples and priests sprouted, mythologies were created, great urban conglomerations were constructed – civilization was born. Increased population necessitated closer and taller buildings. An artificial environment was erected to house the multitude; the people were severed from the past. Conduct was strictly regulated with laws and codes to keep a degree of conformity and peace – usually enforced via threats of divine wrath and legal punishment; i.e. state sanctioned cruelty and the transgressor. But, there, amidst all that technological innovation and architectural splendour there festered something sickly. The inhabitants, packed into constrained spaces become neurotic, much like quadrupeds in cages; abnormal forms of behaviour develop. They’ve grown to despise Nature, and exist through defiance of it. From the marshes of Sumer to the modern metropolis – the barter centre had mutated into a juggernaut complex of worldly proportions – a self-doomed edifice."

 

There, on a busy corner, he came upon a nightclub, which he decided to enter. The faint and hazy atmosphere suited him, although, he felt somewhat out-of-place among the careless crowd. Sitting on an empty couch at the far end, he proceeded to smoke while observing the overly domesticated – clad in his leather jacket and hat. Then two women approached him. They sat along the couch beside him. One was a tall blonde, wearing turquoise shoes and a bleach-white suit with matching streaks of turquoise along the centre, while her associate was an Oriental wearing a conventional jet-black dress. They were obviously professionals. The blonde who sat closest asked the vagabond for a cigarette, which he obliged. As conversation followed thereafter, it became apparent to him that he was dealing with two high-caliber attorneys who worked for a prominent firm in one of the famous skyscrapers.
 

“And what do you do” the blonde prodded.
 

“I plan on travelling extensively, and leave this place” he vaguely replied, hoping to evade further inquiry.

“So you want to wander the world?” she ensued, “And with a big smile on my face” he countered. “Don’t you ever get tired of this cosmopolitan life”?

“Yes, I do…I grew up in the islands – but here, I work half the day to support a living space that is a quarter the size one can get anywhere else…but you gotta do what you can to make a living. One day, I do plan on retiring to some coastal villa after all this” she assured herself.

 

The exchange flowed into the realm of politics, particularly, an incident involving the collapse of two towers from an aerial attack. He had actually visited the wreckage site, but the only reaction he could fathom from the sensationalized ruins, scattered propaganda leaflets, indifferent debris-collectors and putrefying foliage was a deep sense of respect for the courage and self-sacrifice of the men who dealt the lethal strike.
 

“I had many friends who died in there!" she exclaimed.

He nodded, but reminded her that “the incident would not have occurred had your foreign policy been more balanced."

“So you think it was justified?"

“I abhor all forms of violence” he unctuously assured her, “but you must understand, that when a people are oppressed, they will react accordingly." The dialogue then proceeded unto a dictator in the east.

“He is a dangerous man, if he gets those weapons, he is crazy enough to use them…he wants to kill everyone once he gets those bombs” she insisted.

“Well, actually, this is the only country that threatens other states with such weapons."

“That is done just as a psychological deterrent, we have no real intent on using them” she discarded.

“But you already have, twice…”

 

 At this point, she seemed increasingly agitated and requested another cigarette.
 

“You know, a certain scientist said…(he started)”
 

“You are an idiot”.
 

“Ah, well, that’s a matter of opinion."

 

She left for the restroom afterwards. Turning towards the Asian lady; “mortgages, credits cards, interest rates, taxes…I don’t…I don’t want it”.
 

“You’re right, it is a trap. But what are you going to do when you want to support a family? What are you going to say when your children complain of not having the same things they see their friends with?”
 

“Even if one could purchase a house with cash and avoid paying interest, there’s always property tax “.
 

“You may say that now, but who knows, maybe you too will someday sellout”, “ha, you never know, but for now, I have the luxury to be a nonconformist”.

“You’re right, it is a luxury. I can’t say such things for fear of losing my job, but you have nothing to lose”, he nods in acknowledgement.

 

By this time the vixen had returned to admit: “before I used to see things as black and white, but now, it all seems much more –”
 

“Grey?”
 

“Yes."
 

“I know." Bidding them farewell, he abruptly left the club.
 

He made his way to the train station for the scheduled departure to the beach marina. Upon finding a seat, he sat in serious contemplation. “If favoured truths are shattered, a substitute creed must fill the vacuum. I have formulated the ten-point ethical code of the Overman; a philosophy for eternity – the rediscovery of Aryan Man morals. (1) Perfection in actions - to execute one’s actions with purpose and precision. (2) Resolve despite all (odds) – one must be resolute in the face of obstacles, unfazed, from any trial or tribulation. (3) Maintain one's manhood – one must uphold to masculine virtues of brute force and physical strength. (4) Nature inspires life – nature is the inspiration for all life, for that is its source. (5) Nothing supernatural – there exists no supernatural or metaphysical entity. (6) Embrace darkness within – embracing darkness is the key to survival, to kill is to live. (7) Integrity without hubris – espouse to the integrity of one's principles without excessive pride. (8) Refrain from indulgence – temperance in matters of gratification without decadent indulgence. (9) Existence is struggle – struggle is the essence of existence, the worse the better. (10) Power justifies action – strive for absolute power, becoming the Dark Lord to execute ones desires. With this, honour is restored."

 

Upon arrival at the destination, he made for a nearby bench to sit and absorb the warm breeze. There, across from him in a shaded patio, two niggers were idly chatting, while one had a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other – taking interval mouthfuls between the jabber. Then he noticed an elderly woman at the end of the bench. She had white hair, bright clothing, guarded sunglasses and designer handbags – not unlike the many retirees of the area.

“Great weather, isn’t it” she inquired.
 

“Yes, it is” he answered.
 

“Are you here on vacation?"
 

“Sort of”.
 

“Do you know anyone here?'
 

“Not a soul” he admitted.
 

“I just bought my granddaughter a violin, I hope she likes it."
 

“Really?"
 

“Yes, you see it here…this is her picture” she showed with eagerness, but this annoyed him, so he just stared with a blank face."

“Do you like classical music?" she questioned.

“Not really." The proclivity of this stranger to divulge arcana in intimate conversation led to something unexpected: “When my parents emigrated from the Third Reich during the war, I was just a child, when I went to school, I had a Japanese friend – between us, we made up the Axis."

“Do you remember how it was there?"

“It really wasn’t so bad as they make it out, there is a lot of misinformation about it."
 

“By who, the media?"
 

“Yes, because it’s controlled by…Jews” she cautiously whispered. He had heard all of this before, but was not in the mood, especially since arriving at the seaside station.

“This place is a pleasant change from the big city” he remarked, trying to change the subject.

“I have a son, he works in the city, but I worry for him…it is dangerous there, so much corruption and violence."

“Why is that the case for so many cities?" he ingenuously inquired, trying to get her reasons.

She looked around, with a paranoid glance, and then whispered “black people, they cause many problems."

With a tired sigh he looked forward, and saw the patio simian carrying on with his peanut butter. “There has been scientific studies that confirm intelligence variances among different ethnic groups, based on IQ statistics” he muttered, in an attempt to bring some sort of factuality into the argument.

 

“Yesss”, she hissed sinisterly, with a fascist grin on her face. At this point, he felt somewhat awkward, yet warm, among her presence. The Nazi grandmother radiated with a homely truth – the remnant of a bygone era. As the train arrived, he helped carry her bags and bid her goodbye.

 

“The Negroid was brought over from Africa to be used as domestic livestock – to serve the avarice of the Occident. Their implacable enmity towards their former masters is natural. The cohabitation of such antagonist races will only result in one exterminating the other."

 

“As for the Sheenies: they are a truly remarkable people – managing to survive for thousands of years where so many of their ancient contemporaries have vanished. Through perseverance and guile the Jews have attained mastery over the world – and will continue to do so, unless, some goyim act otherwise. These truisms I have accepted. The Universe is horror."

 

Finishing all the details with the nautical salesman, he went aboard his vessel to raise the sails and inspect the cabin. The time had finally come; he was ready to cast off. But there, as he was leaving the harbour, some hobo caught a glimpse of him, and yelled in triumph: “You’re a lone wolf, a lone wolf… you know that, do you know that?!”

 

“I know."