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Suicide Someday by David Arthur Walters

Suicide Someday by David Arthur Walters

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A publication for those who aren't ready yet
A publication for those who aren't ready yet

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Published by: David Arthur Walters on Nov 16, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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‘The Bar’ by Maurice de Vlaminck 
Painting was an abscess which drained off all the evil in me.Without a gift for painting I would have gone to the bad.What I could have achieved in a social context only by throwing a bomb, which would have led me to the guillotine,I have tried to express in art, in painting, by using colorsstraight from the tube. Thus I have been able to use my destructive instincts in order to recreate a sensitive, livingand free world.
Maurice de VlaminckGreat thinkers often complain about the status quo. After all,what else is there for great thinkers to do? There would beno cause for that symbolic action called thinking if the
human world were perfect. The Almighty Deity, the FirstCause, the Absolute One certainly has no cause fordiscontent.Would not Perfect Bliss on this planet constitute death? Mustnot Pain slightly outrun Pleasure just to keep us going? Ithink the self-conscious human mind provided for theintelligent organization of our lives is a sort of Trojan horseor Pandora's chest, don't you? All sorts of ills are released forour evolutionary good, and we are, regrettably, heldresponsible for them. Not only are we conscious of pain andpleasure, we are conscious of the individual self and itsinevitable extinction on this plane of existence. The self-conscious mind is, in a sense, the reflection of a disease atthe radical root of our civilized discontent - we have Reason,to be ashamed of our natural selves. Therefore Psyche,goddess of the arts, presides over mental illness.Man has long wondered at the enthusiasm or god-possessionof talented thinkers and artists. We rightfully fear theirintuitions and effusions, for art is fundamentallyrevolutionary. One might say that art is an effort to tame thewildness evoking it, to master the overflowing power - todance - to sing - to ponder - to fly. And sometimes art fliestoo far beyond its basis in the community. Not only doovertly active men and women overdo themselves, but menand women of symbolic action often think too much for theirown damn good - they might ascend to exhilarating butpainfully alienated heights, then pine away in mentalhospitals, or join criminals and saints on scaffolds or indungeons, or perhaps starve in garrets and gutters.Moreover, from the lucid perspective at the metaphysicalsummit above the dirty details, some great authors,authorities in their own right, blinded by the highestauthority, have lept to doom instead of faith. I think weunderstandably hide our faces from the Sun lest we realizetoo soon the scorching brunt of the absolute truth aboutourselves.
Pardon me for my elitist approach to the empyrean heights -as if only great artists and brilliant authors truly suffer theawful truth of the human predicament! Of course they arenot the only sufferers. They simply sum it up and throw itback at everyone who cares to listen. At the crux of humanexistence, no one is any better or any worse than another,for each one of us is exalted and debased at the same time.We are naturally uneasy although unaware of the source of our discontent in the bipolar crisis along the time-spacecontinuum. We might be, individually or en masse, on theverge of a violent outburst or nervous breakdown. 'Malease'or "bad ease" was once the English term for the vague,uneasy feeling one has before the obvious symptoms of physical disease appear. Surely there must be maleasebefore mental disease has its destructive, obviousindications such as suicide, serial murder and war. Do we nothave a vague feeling of impending doom, a sense of beingset beside ourselves, on the one side as worms and on theother side as gods?Another term, the French version of malease, comes tomind: 'malaise', a word once associated with romantic artistsdissatisfied with their leisure, and with writers sufferingwriters' block. Now that love of money is the rule, 'malaise' isa term often applied to stagnant economies just beforeeconomic depression or mania. Yes, 'malaise' could be usedto vaguely indicate the underlying, unconscious mentaldisease plaguing modern society. Well, sort of; as afrustrated nosologist, I want a more precise term for themodern sickness as I define it - mind you, as a layman I amentitled to some latitude. If we have the right name for ourmalaise, maybe we can find the right therapy before peoplestart running amuk en masse again.Let's just call the ailment paranoia. Since professionals haveabandoned the term as too vague and ambiguous for clinical

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