Musica Nocturna de Madrid (Boccherini)

Lamu Archipelago

Theology of Liberation

Prussian Spirit

Law Of The Sword

"The time of conquest is over. Now is the time of reconquest, inner and outer: the reappropriation of our memory and our space: and what a space! Fourteen time zones on which the sun never sets. From Brest to the Bering Straits, it is truly the Empire of the Sun, the very space of the birth and expansion of the Indo-European people. To the south-east are our Indian cousins. To the east is the great Chinese civilization, which could decide to be our enemy or our ally. To the west, on the other side of the ocean: America whose desire will always be to prevent continental union. But will it always be able to stop it?
...
Today we need more than morality. We need hypermorality, i.e., the Nietzschean ethics of difficult times. When one defends one’s people, i.e., one’s own children, one defends the essential. Then one follows the rule of Agamemnon and Leonidas but also of Charles Martel: what prevails is the law of the sword, whose bronze or steel reflects the glare of the sun. The tree, the rocket, the sword: three vertical symbols thrust from the ground towards the light, from the Earth to the Sun, animated by sap, fire, and blood."

Guillaume Faye, Mars & Hephaestus: The Return of History

Velouria (Pixies)

contre le monde moderne

WKR

For Your Pleasure

Tintin en avance

Mensur

Monk Shoe Dissonance

As you know, I've taken to wearing my pair of Alfred Sargent monk shoes (not pictured at left) with great frequency. They are formal enough in a low-key, classic style, whilst retaining a bit of edge. I'm saddened to report, however, that in recent weeks they have developed an irritating squeaking sound--like a group of mice in a juice press in the next room--whenever I stroll about the office in my usual chalant manner. Careful analysis has failed to discover the cause. I'm considering greasing them with a mixture of extra virgin olive oil, Veuve Clicquot, and essence of ovulating 18-year old hottie. But I'm open to other suggestions. Have you any?

Sometimes I Feel So Low (Japan)

Night Bar Notes

"The main reason I have a hard time getting along with these men is their indecisiveness. They feel when they ought to think, and vice versa. All they have inherited from Socrates is scepticism, but, unlike Xenophon, they would not hoist him on their shoulders and carry him out of the fighting. Convinced as they are of the temporal and finite nature of things, they shy away from pain, sacrifice, devotion."

Ernst Jünger, Eumeswil (1977)

Rallying

Street Scene

Ugly people offend me. And when that ugliness is combined with outstretched hand asking for handouts, I find it practically intolerable.

Picture the scene. I was crossing the street in a Brooks Brothers chalkstripe suit with a 3/2 roll, monk shoes, and BB repp tie, tall, muscular, elegant, due to meet colleagues for lunch.

A heavy-set black-haired European-American woman with tanned, weathered face and chapped lips, appeared 50 but probably 35 or so, approached me with a small plastic bucket and polite request for a donation.

I cut her off. "A donation for what?" I asked.

"For people recovering from drug and alcohol addiction," she replied.

"Not today." I walked away.

In point of fact it was the chubby urchin who should have given me money. For, as you know, I am addicted to wine and codeine. But you won't find me on the streets begging for dosh like a common miscreant. I actually work to fund my addictions.

It's a lesson lazy, fat-arsed Americans should take to heart.

In the shadow of the darkening horizon it is the everyday encounters that continue to test my patience.

Von Bülow Style

“Come in, come in,” said von Bülow expansively as he opened the front door to Helmut Newton, the photographer, who had just returned from Monte Carlo for the session, and me. Von Bülow was standing in the marble-floored, green-walled, gilt-mirrored hallway of the Fifth Avenue apartment of his multi-millionairess wife, whom he was accused of twice trying to kill. In the background a very old Chinese butler hovered, watching the master of the house usurp his duties. On that May Sunday of the seventh week of his second trial, the Danish society figure was dressed in tight blue jeans and a black leather jacket.

“This is the first time I’ve actually posed for a picture since my front and side shots,” says von Bülow in his deep, resonant, English-school, international-set voice.

"Fatal Charm: The Social Web of Claus von Bülow," by Dominick Dunne, Vanity Fair, August 1985

Reds Don't Surf !

Brandenburg

Regatta Blazer

Haeckel

Pucci

Admiral Cod On Tour: The Desert (Arizona)

On Authenticity

A fellow interweb columnist recently posted some photos of beautiful train stations in Moscow. I commented on how well preserved these places are, in contrast to the decay and neglect in the West. It is remarkable to me how former Communist countries have maintained over the years their authentic architecture and traditions. And demographics! That is the key here. Despite decades of Communist rule and genocide by Judeo-Bolsheviks, Russia still remains Russian and Poland still remains Polish. In the West, under the soft-tyranny of the globalist MultiKult--heirs of the Judeo-Bolsheviks--everything is deteriorating all of the time. Including (especially!) the character and quality of the populations. And that, I think, is the intent. Race-replacement is the objective. I've suspected as much for years, but the veil is lifting and I see it much more clearly now. Human beings are not interchangeable. We are not mere economic units and digestive bags to be discarded and replaced by imported sub-hominids as if nothing matters. We are irreplaceable. In 50 years' time, just whose civilisation will survive? I wonder.

On The Cuff

As you are well aware, I rarely wear cufflinks. I think they are pretentious on men under the age of 50, and they positively smack of trying too hard. I do, however, like to keep my peeps on their toes, so to speak, and so I occasionally mix it up a bit and indulge in a bit of sartorial slumming. Because that is how I roll. The exclusive photographic image (at left) shows a silk knot from the defunct English clothing brand Blazer, acquired from the Covent Garden shop in the late 1980s. The shirt is a new addition to the collection, a flimsy number from the Rugby store in New York. I definitely have something to say about it, but will save it for later. It received several compliments, you might be interested to know, but I remain, as always, unmoved.

يا طير الوروار فيروز

Tennis and Racquet

Red Trousers

http://lookatmyfuckingredtrousers.blogspot.com/

A Guide To Facial Hair Types

Mastery

"On the right edge of the little valley, to the general amusement, Lieutenant Breyer—who had been seconded to us from the 10th Jägers—was strolling about seemingly oblivious of the flying bullets, walking-stick in hand, and long huntsman's pipe in mouth, rifle slung over his shoulder, every bit as though out shooting rabbits."

Ernst Jünger , Storm of Steel (1920)

College Beagling

Shooting Practice

I'm in love--with my new handgun. I went shooting this morning, partly in commemoration of the savages for whom this day has been set aside by the American authorities and the traitors who advocate for them. I used a Wilson Combat .45 ACP. I was--according to my companions--extraordinarily accurate, a 'natural' as they put it. Almost all of my shots hit home. I haven't used a handgun since my South African days 13 years ago. As I've mentioned before, in my late 20s I lived in Pretoria, South Africa, after travelling around Southern Africa, and trained with a local cadre of Boere Nationalists. (Hoe gaan dit my vriende?). When I was a boy I had a BB-gun and sometimes used a .22 with a friend's dad in the woods of New York and Connecticut. When I say 'shooting' here I'm referring to firing handguns and rifles at a local shooting range--not targeting pheasants, deer, neighbourhood moggies, and university students, which in the US is called 'hunting'. It's all very confusing. But I'm sure you knew that. Using a firearm gives one a measure of real power, which, given the general trajectory of things, might be of benefit to you and yours.

Recces !

Old England Paris

Der alte Fritz (Old Fritz)

Five Summer Stories

absinthe supérieure

la tradition de la vénerie

Great Fireplace

Invasion of the Euro Sloane

I admit it. I feel for the English. Their country has been deconstructed and destroyed. Their nation, re-defined. English culture has been fatally infected by Americanisation. The political system is infested with Judeo-Scottish bolsheviks. The upper classes are being replaced by European and Middle Eastern wealth. The English working class is being ethnically cleansed by imported Africans, Asians, and assorted third world scum. And now news from my old stomping grounds in London suggest the Sloane Ranger has been displaced by the Euro Sloane. WTF?! Where will it end? The time for a Nationalist liberation movement is now. This is an excerpt from the London Evening Standard:

The Chelsea Sloane is severely under threat. The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea was once the almost exclusive habitat of the urban British upper classes, but now the Alice-band, pashmina and pump brigade is facing extinction, and its place is being taken by a far more cosmopolitan crowd.

The Euro-Sloane has invaded SW3 - sweeping up from Cheyne Walk and on to Knightsbridge, modernising the restaurant menus, sanitising the bathrooms and occupying the flats where the Spencers and Lord Sebastian Flytes used to live.

Brideshead accents, meanwhile, have been elbowed out along the Fulham Road, confusing the new Italian, French and German incumbents who came to Chelsea hoping to practise their English.

Aleksander Borev, a Bulgarian doctor, has lived in SW3 for the past four years. "Kensington and Chelsea is about money," he says, "and money these days is fluid, so the people who are here are the people who are everywhere. Europeans, mostly."

But Peter York, author of The Sloane Ranger's Handbook [sic], and a keen anthropologist of the posh, compares the displacement of the upper classes to that of an indigenous people, forced off their land by loggers.

"The whole area is just utterly, utterly changed," he says. "The predominance of the City - the need to be more professional - has ruined Chelsea life. It has become much younger and smarter, and faster-paced."

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/lifestyle/article-24027221-invasion-of-the-euro-sloane.do

Dreamhome

Love is our resistance


 

The Colonel

What I'm Reading (And Drinking) Now

Kent & Curwen Cricket

How curious that an item of mere clothing should provoke such memories! In my youth I endeavoured to enjoy the game of cricket, at the behest of some enthusiast friends, but I found it boring and not at all as fun as chasing fillies and drinking pints of bitter. That is not to say watching a random match on the university fields behind our college housing or at Holland Park on a summer afternoon was not a relaxing experience. It was. But, it was simply not dangerous enough. I preferred rugby. Plus, my mind was elsewhere. I did appreciate the uniform, though, and had two or three cricket jumpers in my wardrobe at the time: a cotton number from Blazer and the real deal from Kent & Curwen and (I think) Slazenger. I usually paired it with a Tweed jacket, denim trousers, and Gucci loafers or brogues.

The Devil's Captain: Ernst Jünger in Nazi Paris, 1941-1944

"Author of Nazi Paris, a Choice Academic Book of the Year, Allan Mitchell has researched a companion volume concerning the acclaimed and controversial German author Ernst Jünger who, if not the greatest German writer of the twentieth century, certainly was the most controversial. His service as a military officer during the occupation of Paris, where his principal duty was to mingle with French intellectuals such as Jean Cocteau and with visiting German celebrities like Martin Heidegger, was at the center of disputes concerning his career. Spending more than three years in the French capital, he regularly recorded in a journal revealing impressions of Parisian life and also managed to establish various meaningful social contacts, with the intriguing Sophie Ravoux for one. By focusing on this episode, the most important of Jünger's adult life, the author brings to bear a wide reading of journals and correspondence to reveal Jünger's professional and personal experience in wartime and thereafter. This new perspective on the war years adds significantly to our understanding of France's darkest [sic] hour."

Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye)

The English Gentleman: National Colours

Old Hong Kong

Mountain Patrol

Gottfried Benn on Nihilism

From the glowing darkness of the many churches...there came a trembling, heavy with tears, a drumming and trumpeting; the striving of the human heart is toward evil from childhood on. The steady consonance of this tragic chord, the awareness of being in need of salvation, gave medieval life its depth and boundlessness. Penetrated by the sense of his own limitation, man turned in prayer to a perfection that he could imagine without having witnessed or experienced, an eternal realm beyond the desolation of the earth. And this contrast between a hither and a yon (which, of opposite nature like fire and water, nevertheless interpenetrate) charged the atmosphere with electrical tension, produced deeds like thunderbolts, and illumined the heart with flashes of realization. But now came the new song, Man is good, and its jaunty tune displaced the stern chorale of the past.

Man, then, is good; that is, insofar as he appears to be bad, the environment is at fault or heredity or society. All people are good; that means all people are equal, equally valuable, with an equal voice equally worth listening to in all matters. Just let's not get too far away from the average type; let's not have any greatness, anything out of the ordinary. Man is good, but not heroic; don't make the mistake of conferring responsibility on him; he should be useful, expedient, idyllic - devaluation of everything tragical, devaluation of everything fateful, devaluation of everything irrational; only what's plausible is granted validity, only what's banal. Man is good. This does not mean that Man should become good, that he should struggle to attain to a goodness, to an inner rank, to a state of being good. No, Man is not supposed to struggle at all, since he's good to begin with. The Party will fight for him, society, the mass, but he should live and enjoy, and if he kills someone he should be consoled, for it is not the murderer but the murdered who is at fault.

Man is good, his nature is rational, and all his sufferings are hygienic and socially controllable--this on the one hand and creation itself on the other. Both were supposed to be accessible to science. From both these ideas came the dissolution of all old bonds, the destruction of the substance, the leveling of all values; from them came the inner situation that produced that atmosphere in which we all live, from which we all drank to the bitter dregs: nihilism.

Gottfried Benn

The Art of Tea

la tradition

Message de Dominique Venner pour le 1er janvier 2012

Le 1er janvier de cette année 2012 rappelle d’abord que, dans tous les pays d’Europe nous avons fêté Noël, autre nom pour le Solstice d’Hiver qui fut célébré en Europe des millénaires avant l’ère chrétienne. Cette fête nous fait souvenir que nous, Européens, fils des Hyperboréens de la légende apollinienne, venons de loin et que nous sommes indestructibles, en dépit des périls qui se dessinent à l’horizon et en dépit de la perversion des oligarchies dominantes.

N’ayant pas de civilisation de rechange, c’est à la mienne et à sa tradition que je m’attache. Elle m’a fait ce que je suis. Elle a façonné mon être, une certaine façon d’exister, de sentir, de penser, de me comporter devant la vie et devant la mort, l’amour et le destin.

Intimement conscient de ce que je dois d’essentiel à mes origines, je justifie et soutiendrai toujours le droit fondamental de tous les autres humains à posséder leur propre patrie, leur culture, un enracinement qui permet d’être soi, chez soi, et de ne pas être rien.

C’est aussi pourquoi je m’insurge contre ce qui me nie. Je m’insurge contre l’invasion silencieuses de nos villes, je m’insurge contre la négation de la mémoire européenne. Je dois à celle-ci de m’avoir transmis des exemples de tenue, de vaillance et de raffinement venus du plus lointain passé, celui d’Hector et d’Andromaque, d’Ulysse et de Pénélope. Menacé comme tous mes frères européens de périr spirituellement, cette mémoire est mon bien le plus précieux.

Il est nécessaire aussi, à l’aube de cette année 2012 de rappeler les fondamentaux de toute vie humaine au-delà des croyances de chacun. Dans leur diversité, les hommes n’existent que par ce qui les distingue, clans, peuples, nations, cultures, civilisations, et non par ce qu’ils ont en commun. Seule leur animalité est universelle. La sexualité est commune à toute l’humanité autant que la nécessité de se nourrir. En revanche, l’amour comme la gastronomie ou l’art du thé sont le propre d’une civilisation, c’est-à-dire d’un effort millénaire de création dans le mystère de la continuité de soi. L’amour entre deux personnes de sexe opposé, tel que le conçoivent les Européens, et qu’a magnifié l’amour courtois à partir du XIIe siècle, est déjà présent de façon implicite dans les poèmes homériques à travers les personnages contrastés d’Hélène, Hector, Andromaque, Ulysse et Pénélope. De même, la perception forte de ce qu’est une personne, l’existence politique de cités libres et en armes, l’idée fondamentale aussi que les hommes ne sont pas étrangers à la nature, qu’ils en épousent le cycle de renouvellement perpétuel incluant la naissances et la mort, qu’enfin du pire peut surgir le meilleur, ce sont là un ensemble de particularités constitutives qui s’affirment déjà dans les deux poèmes d’Homère qui nous offrent nos modèles.

Même quand ils ne le savent pas, les individus et les peuples ont un besoin vital de tradition et de civilisation propres, c’est-à-dire de continuités apaisantes, de rites, d’ordre intériorisé, et de spiritualité. Nous, Européens, avons tous besoin de beauté, notamment dans les petites choses. C’est le sens des fêtes familiales ou amicales que nous avons tous célébrées. Mais la perception que nous en avons change selon les civilisations, tissées elles-mêmes d’hérédités spécifiques aux sources mystérieuses.

Ayant ces réalités à l’esprit, on peut poser comme principe qu’il n’y a pas de réponse universelle aux questions de l’existence et du comportement. Chaque peuple, chaque civilisation a sa vérité et ses dieux également respectables. Chacun apporte ses réponses, sans lesquelles les individus, hommes ou femmes, privés d’identité, donc de substance et de profondeur, sont précipités dans un trouble sans fond. Comme les plantes, les hommes ne peuvent se passer de racines. Mais leurs racines ne sont pas seulement celles de l’hérédité, auxquelles on peut être infidèle, ce sont également celles de l’esprit, c’est-à-dire de la tradition qu’il appartient à chacun de retrouver.

On 1 January this year 2012 first recalls that in all European countries we celebrated Christmas, another name for the Winter Solstice, which was celebrated in Europe for millennia before the Christian era. This feast reminds us that we, Europeans, son of the Apollonian legend of the Hyperboreans, have come far and that we are indestructible, despite the dangers looming on the horizon and despite the perversion of the ruling oligarchies.

Having no alternative civilization, it is to mine and its tradition that I am attached. She made me who I am. It has shaped my being, a way to exist, to feel, think, behave toward life and in death, love and destiny.

Intimately aware of what I owe most to my roots, I will always support and justify the basic right of all other human beings to have their own homeland, their culture, their roots, which allows itself to be at home.

This is also why I am against what I deny. I am against the silent invasion of our cities, I am against the negation of European memory. I owe it for sending me examples of loyalty, valor and refinement from the distant past, that of Hector and Andromache, Ulysses and Penelope. Threatened by a spiritual death as are all my European brothers, this memory is my greatest asset.

It is also necessary, at the beginning of the year 2012 to recall the fundamental of all human life beyond beliefs. In their diversity, men exist only by what distinguishes them--clans, peoples, nations, cultures, civilizations--and not by what they have in common. Only their animal nature is universal. Sexuality is common to all mankind as well as the need for food. However, love of gastronomy and the art of tea are characteristic of a civilization, that is to say an old creative effort in the mystery of the continuity of self. The love between two persons of opposite sex, as conceived by Europeans, and courtly love from the twelfth century, is already implicit in the Homeric poems through the contrasting characters of Helen, Hector, Andromache, Ulysses and Penelope. Similarly, the perception of what a strong person should be, the political existence of free cities and weapons, the basic idea that men are no strangers to nature, they embrace the cycle of renewal Perpetual including birth and death, the best may finally emerge from the worst; these are a set of features constituting assertive already in the two poems of Homer we offer our models.

Even when they do not know, individuals and peoples have a vital need for their own tradition and civilization, that is to say soothing continuities, rites, internalised order, and spirituality. We Europeans, we all need beauty, especially in little things. This is the meaning of the holidays with family or friends that we all celebrated. But the perception that we have changes with civilizations, woven themselves to specific hereditary mysterious sources.

With these realities in mind, one can postulate that there is no universal answer to the questions of existence and behavior. Each nation, each civilization has its truth and its gods equally respectable. Each brings his answers, without which people, men or women, deprived of identity therefore substance and depth, are thrown into a bottomless disorder. Like plants, the men can not live without roots. But their roots are not only those of heredity, which can be unfaithful, it is also those of the mind, that is to say the tradition that belongs to everyone to find.

Dominique Venner

http://www.dominiquevenner.fr/2012/01/message-de-dominique-venner-pour-le-1er-janvier-2012/

Ce petit cœur (Françoise Hardy)

contre le monde moderne

Italian Modernist Lifestyle