I metaphorically mourn the death of the individual subject if not the death of the almighty Subject of subjects who was once Necessary but whose demise set us free - that each cattle might be a king or queen - only to discover that, once rid of Being, each being is at bottom a contingent bum, or worse, a nobody like me, in want of the common object destroyed, in whom each once had their share of Being.

Nevertheless I remain fatally prejudiced in favor of the nothing that I am when going it alone. I value the subjective over the objective any day. In my opinion, those who do not do so have lost their minds; forgive me for being so politically incorrect as to laugh at those insane people whom I sometimes refer to as Objectivist Monsters - I must laugh at them or go completely mad.

Of course I admit the need for objects. Say, the five good things every survivalist needs to fulfill his fundamental mission in life. First of all, I believe we all need objective ground to stand on. I confess again and again that the transcendentalist''s transcendence needs a world to transcend. At least he needs a place to put his fulcrum. His transcendental redemption is somewhere and someplace within the scheme of things, within the whole truth, within universal reality, within the world; it certainly is not without, nowhere and no place.

The Greek words for the apparently absurd statement, "Nothing exists", can be construed to mean that no thing stands apart from the universe. Nothing exists without existence. Nothing stands apart from the whole. Behold, however, the ambiguity of Nothing. Observe how a man may employ the absolutely negative god or Negation to exalt his own insignificance to godlike grandeur as he identifies Nothing with Being.

Nevertheless, whether he likes it or not, any man''s existence is rooted in the cosmos he is confronted with, whether he likes it or not. Some love it so much that they would merge with it; but that would be the death of individual existence, thus has the love for the prospect of oceanic bliss been called a death instinct, for bliss is death: bliss wants nothing in its absolute rest, and has no reason or cause to move and thus be differentiated. It takes two to tango and without the tango two do not exist. There is no identity absent the relation. Stop complaining about the argument and enjoy the dance. In the name of the dancer, and the dancer, and the dance, as one, amen.

As a screaming subjectivist I must confess that I am sometimes appalled by my identity, or rather the lack of it; for every time I try to fulfill the cryptic Delphic injunction, Know Thyself, I find no object before me, at least no order I can understand or comprehend. To find such an order would repudiate the freedom of my disordered subjectivity. Perhance that is why I oft feel an urge to be cosmic instead of chaotic. I would be overwhelmed by the cosmos. I would passively resubmerge or disappear into the World or Ocean of Milk or Universal Object which is at once the Universal Subject, and therefore be undifferentiated by the painful self-consciousness of my pathetic bodily position in time and space: Behold, Quantity! the bane of existence!

The very multiplicity of existing things over stimulates me to take refuge in unconsciousness; sleep, fainting, catatonia, death. In other words, I would fain not be me as an existent "I" here and now: I would rather be the one and only Subject. But that is to say Nothing, so I will say it: I want to be Nothing, the Subject alone, without a magic mirror to deny pure subjectivity with illusory diffractions appearing as disconcerting multiple objects.

I suppose my propensity to cosmic inflation is ultimately self-consistent. I want only one thing, my subjectivity, hence there is only one object in my world, the whole world, the Alone, the All One, not di-verse or multi-verse but uni-verse. Thus my Subject and corresponding Object are in truth identical, and I am I, I am who I am; in fine: I AM.

Alas, then, that, at this passing moment in my position, I exist as a arbitrary integer of the Universe I would be. I feel like screaming under the viaduct again. I hope They do not send me upstate for chemical injections again.