Painting of the day:
John William Godward
The Priestess of Bacchus ~ 1898
Category: Aryan beauty
Categories
Hylas and the Nymphs
Painting of the day:
John William Waterhouse
Hylas and the Nymphs ~1896
Painting of the day:
John Collier’s Lady Godiva ~1898
Herbert Art Gallery & Museum
Trainspotter’s obituary:
This is a terrible, tremendous loss.
One cannot imagine a non-white version of Jonathan Bowden [see previous post]. He is something uniquely ours, he belongs to us. If our people should perish, the world will not know such a type again. Brilliant, quirky, hilarious, inspired, exuding the passion of a thousand suns, but also odd and perhaps sad and troubled as well. Very, very English.
Such was my impression, anyway. I never knew Jonathan personally, but he always reminded me, and strikingly so, of a very close friend of mine. They could have been brothers. My friend made it to 39. When he left, dying unexepectedly and without warning, he took something away that those of us who remain would never get back. And so it is with Bowden.
Perhaps that is the price one pays to mix such passion with brilliance. Trapped in normal life, but with a heart and soul too big for it, or simply attuned to that which others do not see. A fire in a barn, the life force ready to explode – or go away entirely. Perhaps such men aren’t meant to last, but rather to use themselves up with haste, spending themselves in a torrent, living mostly within the rich universe of their own minds. Only the gods know.
It is entirely possible that Bowden, had he the resources and support, could have played an even greater role in creating the vision that we require. Our time as a people is running short, and Bowden, his own time cut tragically short, has left us when we needed him most. We can soldier on, and we will. Let his memory and the work that he leaves behind inspire us to go forward with passion and heart, to win a new world, and in the meantime to support those wonderful, talented misfits as they arise, and while we still have them. They will not last forever. Of course, no man does, but the sort of which I speak seems particularly prone to the candle burning brightly, but briefly.
Many have said that preserving the beauty of the Aryan female is powerful incentive for preserving our people, and frankly, that’s always been quite good enough for me. Still is. But I’ll also derive some comfort from the fact that, when we secure the existence of our people, there will be more Bowdens down the road. Not often, and not many, but some. That will be good too.
Rest in peace, comrade.
______________
Source: Comment at Counter-Currents
My response to Greg Johnson and James O’Meara about the latter’s new book defending homosexuality is available in the addenda to this blog. My article “On classic pederasty” takes issue with them. The Greco-Roman “lover-beloved” institution was not “gay” in the modern sense of the word.
An expanded version of “On classic pederasty” was chosen for my collection of the 2014 edition of Day of Wrath. But I discarded it for the 2017 edition of the same book. However, it can still be read as a PDF: pages that I stole from the now unavailable edition of Day of Wrath:
https://westsdarkesthour.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/gitone_s-magic.pdf
Part of Maxfield Parrish’s 1913 Florentine Fete murals exhibited at the National Museum of American Illustration. If an ethno-state is ever created in the Northwest, my ultimate dream is that in the distant future its people will resemble the paradisiacal world of Parrish (click here for individual detail of this mural.)
In my last posts we discussed the majority report in “orthodox” white nationalism: Capitalism and the Jewish Problem as the twofold etiology of Western malaise. But I also mentioned my minority report: that the most extreme cases of self-hatred among whites—those who celebrate that their kind will become a minority in a dehumanized society inundated by non-white swarms—cannot be explained satisfactorily by any of these two factors.
In a recent post I briefly talked about how child abuse among whites drives them to hate the culture of their parents, and also presented my book Hojas Susurrantes (“Whispering Leaves”), most of which has not been translated to English.
Since this is a novel, if not a far-fetched subject for most nationalists, I cannot deal with it in this blog. However, you can visit a blog I started this week, Fallen Leaves, where I am gathering texts on the toll of child abuse in adult life I’ve been writing or collecting since 2005.
If in the near future I don’t add new posts to The West’s Darkest Hour as often as I used to do, it’s because I am busy with my minority report in another blog; for example, translating to English articles I originally wrote in Spanish: Fallen Leaves
Categories
“That the beauty…”
“That the beauty
of the white Aryan woman
will not perish
from the Earth”
Two days ago this blog received a lovely comment from the anti-hate squad:
I hope counterterrorism police locate you and execute you upon raiding your apartment. You are a waist of oxygen and food. You are evil and misguided. You shall discover whether eternal damnation is real. You shall suffer forever as you are suffering now unless you let go of the hate within you.
Of course, I didn’t dignify the guy with any reply, but I did answer the insults from a former Swedish friend. In words, our brief exchange is symptomatic of the Holy Racial War that we will be facing soon:
César, you have become a despicable human being. I regret once financing your so-called “intellectual” labour. First, check if “race” is not just another flawed scientific concept, like “parapsychology”.
I believe that some immigrant groups have a higher frequency of people who have completed all stages of the process of violentization, as identified by Lonnie Athens. But violence is conduct, not race. With government programs to educate immigrant parents not to hit their children, we in the Scandinavian countries and elsewhere could turn around the process of violentization in a generation.
The etiology is twofold: genetic and environmental. This is real science, not the pseudoscience with which your government brainwashed you.
Look at the human faces of the Collateral Damage produced in that war which you cheer on from the sidelines, you disgusting little insect; you empathy-challenged desktop murderer! Look them in the eyes – [here]
[Interpolated note: Andreas is clueless about what war is. Scroll down and hit Armor’s phrase “That point of view would mean that every war is immoral” here. In a second comment my former friend said…]
When did your armchair activism for abused kids fade over into armchair cheering on of genocide?
You must have missed another of my blogs! [Also, this “cheering on of genocide” is pure projection in Andreas’ mind—see my second comment below]
And what contortions does your mind have to do to admire the work of Alice Miller at the same time as you admire the work of Adolf Hitler?
What you said way above was the fifth, and last, time you come here to insult me, Andreas. Instead of responding I could simply delete all of your coming posts (I don’t know what moves me to reply this last time).
This is not a blog for you to see. I love your Nordic race infinitely more than you do and will continue to fight with all my might against your government that seeks to obliterate the gene pool of the Nordish people from Earth.
Keep with your child studies Andreas. Don’t be the silly masochist that every other day peeks on my blog and then tears his garments deludingly presuming a moral superiority which obviously you cannot claim against me, or my comrades.
If you want to discuss the issues, go elsewhere. Go with those nationalists who are willing to respond. We will hate each other for the next decades with all our being and that cannot lead to any civil debate.
In the discussion threads Occidental Dissent (e.g., this one) has just responded to people of your age from Norway with civility.
Go there Andreas!
Never come back here.
Spill your bile and insults there if you wish. Unlike me they won’t delete your comments, however insulting they may be.
Never come here again. You won’t like any single comma of what I’ll post in my next entries. Trust me…
Categories
The 14 words
This is the first entry of the new incarnation of The West’s Darkest Hour. What moves me to write are David Lane’s fourteen words.