Is Mozart god?

To put this in Context, I must say that I believe that Beethoven is God. This is, therefore, a first Questioning. Ever coming back to Mozart after Months — or Years — of not listening to Music, I see: There is no Thing better in this Life than Herr Mozart!

Is there no Thing better than Herr von Beethoven? Ya, perhaps. If we ignore the Lord,  we might be spared the Terror, the Revelation of our Meaninglessness. We might be spared our Nonsense.

So is not so with Herr Mozart. With infinite Heart, he speaks for us, with us; even in the Trio he speaks, leave alone the first Movement.

And as my Tears stream, the Music proceeds 0nto Mvt. 4. Der Herr concludeth his Symphonie Nr. 25 hier, his second-greatest Symphonie. Es ist gulungen! A fifteen years ago, I avered that it was not. Ich bin gerichtet.

Beethoven the Lord said: “Music should strike Fire in the Heart of Man and bring Tears to the Eyes of Woman.” Perhaps Mozart the Beloved would say: “Music should make Humans happy.”

Alcohol, Faust, and The Devil

This is my Understanding from Faust. I am drunk, and hence the alcohol speaks. It speaks true. But — It is the Devil that speaks. (And I am not the Devil.) What Devil? Goethe’s Devil, not the Devil of the Bible. Who speaks? The Devil in Me. What is that? Goethe’s Devil, again. (I repeat myself, for a purpose.)

Remember Nietzsche? “Hell is eternal repetition”? This is what I have achieved in the preceding Paragraph. It is Hell.

Remember Goethe? “Only that which is fruitful is true”? That is true, and true again: I am attempting, while drunk, to drill some sense into mindless people. [This, they call the sheeple as of 2013.]

So what is my Point?

That is the Point. There is no Point, no Grundlage, for what I write here. Gentle Reader, does that make sense to you in 2013?

In the rare Event that it does not, I beg to remind you that no Thing makes Sense, and I, making no Sense, am “in sync” with the World. What did you do today?

Spent You Time on Facebook? What did you see? Faces? Did you care for those Faces? Or were you looking for your Self? Did you perform Activity there? You did so out of Vanity.

Spent Time on Google? Apart from useful Things, what did you do? You merely killed Time? Or?

Spent Time with your Smartphone? What did You achieve? You enjoyed the Time? You killed Time? What else did you do?

Took the Time out to entertain… took the Time out to…. took the Time out to… and then? How better are You than a Drinker of Ethyl Alcohol, such as I am?

I am better than you. Why? Because I am writing This, and You are reading This. That is why I am better than You.

Every Paragraph I write begins with an “I”, and hence I began this one without. Even though I am drunk.

That is my Strength: to ken what is strong.

It seems too simple, and all this is too complex for the Modern World, where the Word is degraded, where Music is called Rap.

My Friend John F Penner, where art thou? Are you still Writing?

And may this be the Lesson to All: Drink, and You will be Pointless — in other Words, without Point. But That is the Point.

Drink and be merry!


The story of Faust tells it All. When drunk, we are at Auerbach’s Kelller. When in Love, we are in Marthen’s Garten. When in Sin, we are in Gretchen’s Stube. When in deep Trouble, we are in Kerker. When upheld, the Archangel Ariel tends to us. When uplifted, we are in the Emperor’s Court. When dreaming within the upheld Court, we are in Greece, among the Griffons and the Sirens. When back on Earth, we are with the Devil.

We each have our personal Devils, but Goethe painted the Archetypal Devil: Mephistopheles.

We are with the Devil, and He thinks we are done for. And so he digs our Grave. (Englishcer-Deutscher mixup: Graben im Deutschen ist same gleich als the Grabe. And “die” ist “die” as in “die Grabe”.) And then, blinded, we fall in, and We are dead. And Gretchen –  and then Mother Mary — comes: not as Saviour, but as reminder: The woman will make you go on.

You need no Saviour. You need a Woman. My Woman is Alcohol. Faust is the Story of Alcohol.

That is the stupidest Thing I have said. It is because I am drunk. Alcohol melds itself to every Story.

But does the Above not make sense? (Pun intended.)

I rest my case. (My cask.)

Endurance / Hanging In There

What they call Interests, those have gone;

New ones in their place must be born;

I sit, pensive, pensive ’bout nothing –

Nowhere to go and nothing to sing –

And when I try, ’tis the world’s own discord;

But I can still listen to the Lord.


What they call Passions, those I control;

For if I don’t, they’ll cause misery untold;

I sit motionless, thinking about but nothing –

The heavens to attain if thought but took wing!

But such’s not to try, for it moves of its own accord;

Yet, in such dimness, I can listen to the Lord.


What they call Strength, in me I don’t witness;

Call it or strength, or life, or passion, or finesse;

All’s sapped into but a single thought –

A thought of nothingness, one large Nought;

No Should nor Ought for me now. I can’t afford

Not to keep listening and listening to the Lord.


Beethoven-Lord empowers the survival-will

Of those by Life made miserable-ill;

I go to him who Acts not on Whim;

For dear life now I hang by Him.