That became my purpose about 16 years ago. To exploit my circumstances and press its logical conclusions to the extreme, to the utmost philosophical limits. In doing so, everything philosophically around me collapsed as if being hit by a tsunami wave. I was living proof against god and the State, the courts, capitalism. Everywhere i traveled to be among philosophers, i found only more of the mob who would shout obscenities at me and wish for me to burn. And so i would sneer and thrash about while in their company drawing quite a spectacle. Rumors and wives’ tales would turn into legend, and i would eventually become known as something like a b-movie garage version of hannibal lecter. And there is great philosophical value in what i have done. I certainly hope I’ve not caused anyone to commit suicide but i do, admittedly, take a little plebian pride in causing mediocre thinkers to lay awake at night.
“You strike us as a person with something horrific that they are dying to confess, but that at the same time is put off by the inevitable consequences.”
This is good insight into a certain type of sociopath, the rejected type. He’s the non-narcissistic type that sees himself as equal, not above, those who reject him. So, if he harbors some dark secret, he’s concerned about his equals not permitting it… and he wants to be accepted by them. This is real unconditional loneliness.
The narcissistic lecter type wouldn’t feel put off by those who would reject something about him because anyone who would reject such a thing is lacking in taste, etc. Rather, he harbors the secret to keep them from becoming a nuisance… not for care about being rejected. He’s in a conditional loneliness; he longs for company of his equals but doesn’t notice his solitude among the herd. He doesn’t feel lonely. He feels relief, if any thing. Hygiene and all that.
I’m this latter type even though i have no secrets and have to be a tell-all kinda guy for the purposes of my work as a philosopher and journalist. Keep in mind that never has such a thing been done before, and we’re pioneers in a sense. In 2002, when the dreaded philosophy forum became a reality, nobody would know that a single nondescript middle class high school dropout among them would one day become a tragic philosophical hero of epic proportions… nor that they would be the privileged ones to bear witness to it all, whatever they may be… autistic group-homer, compooter programmer with an interest in Dewey, after-work weekend hobby philosopher with or without a single misdemeanor on his record, unwanted elderly women in a religious crisis, retired petite-bourgeois who sits in coffee shops rambling on philosophy forums and posting excerpts of favorite poems he’ d like to share.
All of these people earned significance, were made meaningful, were engaged in such difficult ways that nobody could survive without becoming a genuine philosopher. Fate brought us all together, my friends, and even the flakes still among us are mightier and more profound having been in my presence, for they fight a secret war within that they dare not admit and that means they are alive (ergo not one of the zombies).