seeking refuge for degradation into the arts

It’s the artist’s soul who per­ceives this bot­tom and low in mankind
It’s an artist’s soul to al­le­vi­ate that
Both are just rudi­men­ta­ry in the wicked mind
And the wicked have a glo­ri­ous mind
That vom­its on peo­ples lit­tle crum­my hearts and ways
 

The only rea­son there is con­cep­tu­al art
is be­cause this is the age of the stupid,
a sen­tence on a paint­ing of fe­male breasts is in­finet­ly too com­plex for peo­ple who just talk of jugs and headlights.

If it stinks of so­lid­i­fied avant garde,
it’s usu­al­ly in­tel­li­gence frozen into dog­ma, prac­ticed by none but un­con­scious id­iots. Psy­chi­a­try, mod­ernism, the end of cul­tures, mod­ern art, tooth­paste, etc.

If there is an er­ror in clas­si­cal his­to­ry, the key un­der­stand­ing was to be able to learn from er­ror, to act dis­tin­guish­es – and to de­vel­op into vam­pires one day. Mod­ernism laughs and cred­its it to us be­ing mon­keys per­pet­u­al­ly and has faith in be­ing mon­keys alone.

The fu­ture doesn’t belong
to the work­ing class and the mod­ern moralists,
the bour­geois with a lack of taste per say if you ever mor­al­ized you are one of those. Ac­tu­al­ly, you will be­come com­plete­ly re­dun­dant, as you should. 

You lay on beach­es a few days a year,
you don’t have the de­cen­cy for cul­ture, you hate pro­fes­sors or use­less pro­fes­sions, you will be­come un­em­ployed, You will rant and rave like a lu­natic be­cause your jobs are tak­en by machines.

But fi­nal­ly you can just sit in a toi­let all your life and eat and shit pizza.

THE FU­TURE, be­longs to esthetics.
There is no need for guards, we will guard for es­thet­ics sake, have guards set up here there, just for so­cial in­ter­ac­tion and the glo­ry of it. They will be cos­tumed, or per­haps naked, etc.

Smart peo­ple are in­con­ceiv­able as light.
Stu­pid peo­ple are as dumb as gravity.

People’s stu­pid­i­ty is the cause of most of our suffering.
I can pret­ty sure avoid falling rocks to a cer­tain de­gree, I can just by man­ner of hav­ing a small head avoid get­ting hit by a small asteroid.

It’s also stu­pid, but avoid­ing hu­mans is much hard­er. They have a ten­den­cy to pull you in wher­ev­er you go, and vom­it wher­ev­er you want to have your dish put to eat some pasta. 

Peo­ple are more stu­pid then falling de­bris as they have a ten­den­cy to wield a dead in­tel­li­gence at their behest.
This means they are cor­rupt to the ex­tent of dou­bling their stu­pid­i­ty. All hu­man civ­i­liza­tion has only led for the dumb mass­es to arise and use the mar­vel of mankind for their dumb bour­geois moral­i­ty, for which they drug and in­car­cer­ate the strange or pas­sion­ate, or archive and arche­ol­o­gize all beau­ti­ful rit­u­als. Youth must learn to reen­act those rit­u­als in full glo­ry or per­ish in­di­vid­u­al­ly, like the work­ing class.

That you have no oth­er home coun­try then your place of birth is an out­right lie. We have no home coun­try, we have cars and su­per­mar­kets, if you can adapt to that you can adapt any­where. Learn a lan­guage and get the fuck back where you came from, They say. You nev­er were in it for the cul­ture any­way, this is all eco­nom­ic selfishness.

All there is to­day is per­vert­ed analy­sis or snob­by ranting.
You can’t copy my words with­out ora­tion and splen­dour of thought and with­out crash­ing into your analy­sis and pa­thet­ic opinions.

With­out the word ‘new’ mod­ernism couldn’t be de­scribed, be­cause it con­tains NOTHING.

I be­lieve it is beauty
be­cause it is in my soul to com­mu­ni­cate THAT, as a fact, and from that con­sen­sus is born. From rel­a­tiv­i­ty, rel­a­tiv­i­ty is born. This is wat mod­ernists failed to see, and why they have a cul­ture of sev­en bil­lion in­di­vid­u­als, or no cul­ture at all.

Well, the US is alive but shit­ty, Eu­rope is beau­ti­ful but dead.
 
 

—aey­lyeaelle ell­he de ellendeh

Flom­mist Aey­lyeaelle Ell­he De El­len­deh is a ne­oro­man­tic and neosym­bol­ist artist and philoso­pher, stud­ied sculpt­ing at The Roy­al Acad­e­my of Dec­o­ra­tive Arts of Antwerp Bel­gium, He de­cried ac­tu­al­ly hav­ing fall­en in love stand­ing be­fore the Psy­che of Leighton in Lon­don, hav­ing cried over the Sleep­ing Beau­ty by Suss­mann hell­born and hav­ing spir­i­tu­al re­li­gious af­fec­tions for the Sphinc Mys­terieux by Charles van der Stap­pen. Dec­o­ra­tive sculp­tor and Au­thor of a neosym­bol­ist mythol­o­gy on Kant­ian per­cep­tion, on the imag­i­na­tion, in­spi­ra­tion, art, deca­dence, es­thet­ics and pas­sion, hate, mis­an­thropy main­ly. Heav­i­ly in­flu­enced by Huys­mans A re­bours and Schopen­hauers refuge in art as Sades will to free erotics. He in­vent­ed the Eif­fel tow­er sev­er­al times the size of the cur­rent one in paris to launch trains into space in an art nou­veau way. He in­vent­ed can­dles on re­mote con­trol. He in­vent­ed a game of chess with over 200 pieces per play­er and in an en­tire­ly clas­si­cal and de­scent set­up. With a line of Bish­ops, an Army, an­gels, boul­ders, with tow­ers that need to be de­fend­ed for­ward to launch the boul­ders, with a court, and a high­er court with Elvin, Elvin King, Em­per­or, Em­press and vam­pire of melan­choly and a vam­pire le­gion. He is a self de­clared mad­man and of­fi­cial­ly de­clared in­sane by the state of Bel­gium deu to his ro­man­tic up­risals. De­sign­er and ar­chi­tect of the fu­ture city of Anae­htheana, which is best de­scribed as the most beau­ti­ful and lux­u­ri­ous place ever de­vised, with the con­crete bridges done again in mar­ble, a wild zoo where the high­way is now. And a for­ti­fied vat­i­can in­spired wall for a le­gion of Joans of Arc he is try­ing to call. Among that, he is call­ing upon all ar­che­types cur­rent­ly in cos­play goth­ic and mu­sic to build, among oth­er things, a Vam­pire Lane with goth­ic schools, goth­ic mu­se­ums and goth­ic lounges and palaces. And an Angh an­gel fortress. It is his one and only and fi­nal mis­sion to re­place all com­mer­cial bill­boards with ro­man­tic and aca­d­e­m­ic paint­ings. Etc … Copy­right © 2018 Aey­lyeaelle Ell­he De El­len­deh. Pic­tured: Gus­tav Klimt, Wa­ter Ser­pents II, 1904.‬

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