explosivecombat | NIETZSCHE; DEAD PHILOSOPHERS' INBOX

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NIETZSCHE; DEAD PHILOSOPHERS' INBOX

[TEXT; LOCKED TO doitrockapella]

The offer for conversation is always open, should you desire to take me up on it; I can't guarantee that I'll respond immediately, nor will it necessarily be the response you want, but I'll always respond in some way.

In the name of enlightened discourse.

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I know you're not there.

While attending his mother's funeral, a man encounters a fellow attendee — a beautiful woman he's never seen before. Three days later, he kills his brother.

Why?

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HOMEWORK

SECTION ONE
• Disappearing
• Problem-solving
• Challenging the status quo
• Memory
• Taking what others have

SECTION TWO
My interpretation of the phrase "Be thou for the people" isn't inherently one of pacifism, though upon reflection I can see where one might take it as such. Personally, I see it more as a mandate to serve — not so much an individual person, perhaps, but mankind as a whole. From what you've told me, alchemists are a select group of uniquely talented individuals capable of wielding a particularly extraordinary power; I see your Sage's words as a reminder that an alchemist's power is founded on knowledge, and that it's ultimately the charge of an alchemist to use the power she controls to advance the cause of humanity in some way: bettering the lives of others is one obvious outlet, but so is pursuing the study of alchemy to increase the sum of human knowledge and pave the way for the insights and innovations of the next generation to follow. You've told me that there's a law against transmuting lead into gold, on the very practical grounds that it could ruin the economy; I think that's also a law that can tie into the same principle articulated here, that the point is not to use the power you're given for selfish or self-serving ends — the way changing lead into gold can so easily become — but rather to change the world for the better in exchange for being gifted with this particularly magnificent means of affecting it.

I'm having a moment of sentimentality. Would you care to talk me out of it?

[Why is Locke still up this late? Who knows, but it's certainly given her the opportunity to overhear this shit going down and, uh.

She is about as agitated right now as he is overstimulated, which is saying something.]

And to think I always thought rainy nights put a damper on fireworks.

Fortuitously, I didn't have valuables in Goldenrod, either.

In case you were wondering.

Where are you?

[A note, upon a torn corner of paper, left carefully beneath an unattended hat/Gear/personal item.]

Если в один прекрасный день я оставил тебя, что бы вы мне сказать?

Hurry and turn on 7.5J, or you'll miss my debut.

Did Amestris have grand social affairs put on by the nation's leaders?

Do you like seeing my legs in one piece?

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

"Man is free at the moment he wishes to be."

Voltaire.

The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle;
But he'll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there's nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes, the Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat —
And it isn't any use for you to doubt it,
For he will do as he do do
And there's no doing anything about it.

Do you have time tonight, by any chance?

At the end of the row
I stepped on the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.
It wasn't to blame
But I called it a name.
And I must say it dealt
Me a blow that I felt
Like a malice prepense.
You may call me a fool,
But was there a rule
The weapon should be
Turned into a tool?
And what do we see?
The first tool I step on
Turned into a weapon.

A lonely girl, dissatisfied with her life and dreaming of adventure, liked to sit in a window seat with faded roses patterning the fabric and read stories about a similar girl's adventures along a yellow brick road. Sometimes, as she was daydreaming about her lions and tigers and bears, she'd rest her head back and gaze out the window over the bay, always looking to the lights on the horizon and thinking, "Someday, I'll go there and see what there is to see."

And sometimes, late at night when the other girls were asleep, she'd tiptoe across the floor — avoiding all the creaky floorboards, of course, because of course she knew them all by heart — and sneak back to that window, drawing back the curtains long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the Yellow Brick Road, lit up and golden and just waiting for a pair of red shoes to set foot onto it someday.

She's a long way from that window seat now, with plenty of horizons between her and those faded roses. But it turns out there still really is no place like home.

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Is it a crime for a man living in North City to be buried in Central?

There once was a thief on the mend,
Who with boredom was forced to contend.
And now wouldn't you know it,
She's playing the poet,
So as better to pester her friend.

I'm going to be somewhat scarce today. It's someone's birthday — one of my valuables, a boy I cared about quite a bit. He's been gone a long time now.

I also think I've mentioned before that my birthday is tomorrow, back when we were exchanging ours, and if that's the case then I know it's sort of a moot point to tell you again because it's not as though you've forgotten the first time around. Still, it's tomorrow. I don't have any plans to rope you into entertaining me or anything like that, but this year I thought I'd try just...telling people, rather than dropping hints and trying to make them guess as a way of making myself feel important, so we'll see how that goes.

I just checked my last bandage; it looks like I'm fully rehabilitated.

Also, good evening and I hope I'm not waking you, but I didn't want to bury the lede.

Am I waking you up?

Baby, can’t you see I’m calling?
(A guy like you should wear a warning.)

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text; | february 3

1/idek sorry about your inbox in advance

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