Manifesto 1
We look down on conspicuous consumption. Of course I enjoy wearing my $300 down jacket in fifty-degree weather and strutting around the city as if I’m traversing the high mountain pass of Thorong-La; but let's not pretend that doing so isn't the hollow fantasy of a domesticated animal.
We look down on signaling erudition through films watched and books read. You will never find a cute little paragraph in of any of these posts explaining how I've spent the last few weeks masturbating to Solzhenitsyn and Kurosawa.1
We look down pointedly and unflinchingly on writing at length about the process of writing itself. In such cases it is imperative to regain contact with reality.
We look down on self-abnegation, the habitual belittlement of our own desires, the constant effort to become inoffensive. If we offend—then we offend!
We look down on perverting the self to propitiate the economy. We are gripped by the indelible memories of all those honest years.
We look down on any demands for self-consistency or explanation. We live in paradox. We violate these commandments as a matter of whim.
or even Herzog.