Gospel Of Infinite Will, Part 3

3. Stations of the Cross
"To write about sex" and
"To have sex," are
absolutely different things

One problem remains - I can't die, I can't. My death always belongs to Nature, God or techno-evangelists. Without such murders all of us are suicides. Truly speaking, natural death is death without man who really dies. I can die only when I die with my own earth efforts, with my own hands. We struggle for freedom for human beings and now what do we need? Who am I then? I am suicide. Let's think about this again. How can the epoch die when generations refuse to realize the death of the epoch, or, in other words, they don't want to have such goals to die themselves? The death of the epoch is the social death of the generation. When the generation wants to live eternally, the history of the nation become ruthless and endless.

What is the man who doesn't need to die? Only a mould of eternity. And the main problem which I have tried to decide - to whom belongs the realization of my own death? To Nature? To God? I know the single solution of that problem - the realization of my own death may belong only to me, and must belong to me. Nobody else. I realize my own death with my own instantiated efforts like everybody does.

I may desire the death of the meat, but I don't wish to resort to assistance of psychiatrist or to die by means of traditional methods of suicide. [Does] everybody who needs death require somebody's help? [Is] everybody who needs [his] own death ill? If our century builds the New Digital World of the human psyche, where there is human death without fail, who prevents me not to admire the last instant event of everybody's life in the mirror of my consciousness, but to realize personally that last event of my meat-spaced existence? And at the same time I can't realize my own death because when I am there, [there] is not any death, when death is… You may play with words, with logic but when somebody dies there is no words and logic. This is the beautiful idea of meat-death, and, certainly, I agree to die not only with my own generation but I agree to die personally, but I don't know absolutely why I should die or in other words, why should I realize my own death. Maybe it is really god who can realize my own death better than I try to realize it, but -- crucial here, I can create the 'art' of my own meat-death.

Rather than being the handmaiden of the
established apparatus, beautifying its
business and its misery, art would become
a technique for destroying this business
and this misery. [Marcuse, 1964:239]

The need of death, or as philosophers said " need-to-death," has its own history like the death itself. We can't believe in the history of death. The instant fundamental event remains as natural nonsense, which we shall think over and find the answer: "for what?" All of us know the answer for the cunning question "for what?" because we are absolutely sure from the beginning of human history that such an instant event is the great fundamental instrument not only for god or nature, but also for art,for our history, for every person.

We often gladly say that human natural death isn't nonsense, but such an event that is absolutely possible and necessary for our god, for our nature, for our law, social justice, defense, government and democracy. One may play with a million meanings of this sense, but for me, personally, for me where is the sense of my own death? I must explain this point more properly. We rarely find ourselves in a strange condition of our common life when we absolutely needn't our death. What a pity[ful] condition! - may say others. As to me, I may say only that - Let others die but I needn't die. I mustn't defend my nation (for nations are not real), I mustn't struggle for world peace for all nations, and I needn't kill other people to establish the great order of my country, or the superiority of nation as hallucination over self, and I needn't kill somebody to steal another's cash. Maybe I am mad and I need a skilled psychiatrist or a large dosage of MDMA.

I must explain thoroughly my "holy" decision to let the meat die because I often encounter such confusion of ideas that my explanations turn into the funny play with a single actor even for me. When I ask myself why should I die, I don't mean the death as a pure murder or suicide. Nobody wants to be murdered. Somebody wants to be a suicide. As a rule, such people must be sent to hospital, but as to me I would like to send them to philosophers, to thinkers of this new century. What could they advise to poor suicides, especially if we remember the simple crucial point of such speculation - if the man is impossible without the event of [his] death, then who must realize man's death? Certainly, only the man itself can realize one. Are there any differences between healthy men and suicides? The sense of death may be revealed as the sense of realization only. Why should I die? - this the first step. Why should I realize my own death? - this is the final step. Where is the sense of my realization?