Maxims from a Maverick Rabbi

Transcend your existence to authenticate it.

England leaving the EU is a voodoo doll pierced with needles.

I am subjective idealist and a utilitarian materialist.

We can confirm to meaning or pervert or subvert it.

The book has lost its origin. The grapheme is playing with it all the time.

Cross the center of the book; it still remains to be opened;

The book has a center; opening the book and writing opens centers of thoughts.

In the centre of the Book there’s a great hole, a fathomable one that signifies an absence/presence.

Speech! Don’t subdue the voice that writes.

The book that calls out Heaven is a Hell too.

My inner time is a marriage of thoughts.

You can destruct structure to chaos and also mould a meaning that’s creative.
Meaning is an orgasm when it’s saturated.
You are a metaphor when you are playing with meaning.

Discourse of the book is penetration; dialogue is oral and floral.

If the book has to yield to me, I have to storm into a battle of interpretations.

The closure of the Book is death and the beginning of an opening to life is writing.

I cajoled her book and she opened her text to me; it became a flower of becoming, intensely, poetic, lyrical and blossoming.

Playing with signification is Eros; succumbing to signification is Thanatos.

If I yield to the book, I become death.

I am never in the poverty of words, thoughts or feelings.

In the world there’s a confirming majority and a creative minority.

Solitude is never silent; it’s a labyrinth of creative thoughts.

Convenientialism is a post post modern philosophy. Anything and everything goes with it.
There’s no truth to knowing: There’s only an experience to existence.

I have to fictionalize my novel into the art of an aesthetic experience, akin to abstract painting and fugal music.

To make love to a woman is like painting and composing music.

Eros is the urge to tune to the ID and to compose music.

A woman is an edifying flower of meanings.

Temptation, I have made you permissive with freedom Oh God, yet I repent.

In the beginning was the word: in the now it’s a human reading and deconstructing it.

The cops of Bangalore have been beasts to me. They are the meanest bastards I have come across.

I am never in the poverty of words, thoughts or feelings.

Forbidden as meaning, is legalistic, medicinal and political. You can subvert it in post modernism. I am confessional about the authenticity of the 10 Commandments.

Knowing or experiencing meaning is transcendence

If Wisdom is Godly then enjoying its meaning is being earthly.

Materialism is not an ideal or idol; it’s a sumptuous necessity for the belly

Dionysus for the Greeks was God. For Nietzsche, he is rhythm, ecstasy and altered states of consciousness.

Marquis De Sade was right: eroticism is associated with the haunting of death and the indulgence to murder.

Poetry is living the life of me, my body, and lyric is my existence.

Yes, I (finger) the letters of the book. My hands tremble with the exaltation of the profane. Alas I repent!

I make a choice of the word that has fallen on thorns. Let the word sown on good soil be reserved and taken as the Kernel of life.

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