egoinrevolt

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Destroy the ghost that haunts you by refusing to feed it.

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I don’t want your liberation if it comes with new commandments.

I don’t want your healing if it makes me kneel to new saints.

I’d rather be haunted by my own ghosts than exorcised into someone else’s ideal.

I am not here to be good. I am here to be mine.

—A creative nothing, waltzing with his spooks

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If it is yours, truly yours, then I offer no critique, only kinship. But if you belong to the myth you mock, if your ‘freedom’ is a brand to be worshipped, then my ghost laughs at yours. Loudly.

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Let them call it egoism. Let them fear it. You call it breakfast

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The ghost said, 'You’re being difficult. You’ll ruin it.' But I said it. Calmly. Clearly.

‘I’m not comfortable with that.’

The room shifted. But I stayed solid. That was mine.

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They posted bait. I saw it. I felt the ghost stir: ‘Say something smart! Defend your stance!’ Instead, I clicked away. No comment. No keyboard warrior bullshit. I went outside and touched a leaf. The argument never happened. That’s a win.

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Advanced Lecture: Egoism and Power: The Feast of the Unique

“All things are nothing to me -- until they are mine.”

You must not ask whether power is good, just, or oppressive. That is spook-talk. That is the language of priests and progressives, of kings and revolutionaries. You, if you are egoist, must ask only:

“Is this mine?”

1. Power is Not Held, It Is Used

Power is not a throne you sit on. It is not a sword you wave. It is your capacity to shape the world according to your ownness: to bend, seduce, shatter, or seduce others as your appetite demands.

A general has power over soldiers. A poet has power over hearts. A child has power in their scream. A beggar may have more power than a king if they make others feel.

Do not envy power. Taste it. Create it. Take it. Discard it.

2. The Spook of Collective Power

The revolutionaries who shout “comrade” mean “you are mine.” The conservatives who say “tradition” mean “you belong to the dead.” The liberals who cry “equality” will rob you to give to ghosts.

When you hear the word “solidarity,” your ears should prick like a wild animal. When they say “power to the people,” know that the people means everyone but you.

Unless you have a group of like-minds to speak with you, can your singular concern be heard by all the phantoms?

Collective power always gorges itself on the individual. Beware when they ask you to lift a banner. They want your bones beneath it.

3. Egoist Power is Not Authority, But Possession

Authority says: “I command you.” Possession says: “I use you as I please.”

You do not need to be in charge to have power. The manipulator behind the throne has more egoist pleasure than the king who fears his own subjects. The whisperer, the tempter, the lover, the trickster; these are the secret tyrants of the world.

Egoist power is play, not order. It seduces, it disarms, it laughs. It is not owed. It is taken or invited.

4. How to Cultivate Your Power

Stop waiting to be strong. Start owning where you are already powerful.

Your pain? Weaponized.

Your insight? Disarming.

Your weirdness? Your signature.

Your suffering? A lure, or a wall, or a dagger.

Use your trauma or discard it; but never be used by it.

To cultivate egoist power:

Name nothing sacred.

Make nothing permanent.

Use everything! including yourself.

Even your egoism is yours to abandon when it no longer serves.

5. Spook Immunity Through Power

Once you taste your own power, truly taste it, not borrowed strength, not group armor: you become unhauntable.

Guilt no longer bites.

Duty no longer binds.

Identity no longer cages.

Morality no longer bleeds you.

You walk into churches and yawn. You walk into debates and grin. You walk into ideology and piss on the floor.

You are the one they whisper about:

“He is dangerous.” “She has no shame.” “They cannot be reasoned with.” “They laugh too easily.”

Exactly. You laugh because you’re free.

Final Maxim:

“The egoist does not seek power. They play with it.” And if it slips away, they shrug, for they know the wellspring was never in others, but in the trembling fire of their own uniqueness.

Go now. Pick the fruit of strength, the meat of cleverness, the wine of cunning. Pour them into your goblet. And drink for no one’s glory but your own.

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They were so upset about the news. They looked at me like I should match their volume. 'Don’t you care?' they asked. And I said, 'No, not like that. That isn’t my care.'

I’ve learned to stop renting my nervous system to causes I didn’t choose. You can scream, and I’ll still sip my tea. I have chosen where I burn.

And I have energy for laundry now.

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Solidarity is useful when I find it delightful. When it becomes a leash, I chew through it.

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Bustin' Spooks like

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Lecture: The Loving Ego

What if I told you: the purest egoism is also the most radiant tenderness?

Let me unroll this scroll of paradoxes, this tapestry where love and ego are not enemies, but conspirators.

Stirner stated, "I love men too — not merely individuals, but every one. But I love them with the consciousness of egoism; I love them because love makes me happy, I love because loving is natural to me, because it pleases me. I know no 'commandment of love.'"

I. Love Is a Flame I Light for Myself

When I love, I do not dissolve into you. I do not vanish in your needs, nor beg for you to complete me. No, I ignite, and in that warmth, you too may bask.

I do not love because it is righteous. I love because it is delicious.

The loving egoist does not wear their heart as a leash. They offer it like wine; rich, potent, intoxicating, and only to those whose thirst excites them.

If I give you my affection, my gentleness, my patience? it is because I choose to. And I delight in that choice, the way an artist delights in each stroke of the brush.

II. Kindness Is Not Sacrifice

Do you think to be kind means to die a little inside? To betray your own needs for the comfort of others? Bah! That is the kindness of ghosts.

But I say: kindness is an expression of power. It is the flower of a strong ego, not the wilted offering of a hollow one.

I am kind when I feel bountiful, when it pleases me to lift others, not from duty, but from sovereign joy.

You’ve heard “be the change you wish to see in the world.” I laugh. I say: be the pleasure you wish to taste in the world. And let that include love, warmth, camaraderie — without ever chaining yourself to them.

III. Mirror Without Possession

Let me tell you of the most sacred egoist act: to look upon another and say, “You are not mine, and yet I smile upon you.”

Not because I need you. Not because I expect return. But because I can.

I see lovers possessed by the ghost of romance, mothers possessed by the ghost of sacrifice, comrades possessed by the ghost of solidarity, all trembling in fear that love must hurt to be real.

But the egoist knows: love, too, can be unchained.

IV. Egoism Is a Dance, Not a War

You ask, “But there are ghosts everywhere! What if I don't want to end up possessed?"

Step boldly. Invite others in. Spin them, tease them, dip them. but never cling so tightly they cannot breathe. And make sure you can breathe too. Listen to your gut, those are your signals.

Love should feel like movement, not imprisonment.

V. A Final Secret

To love as an egoist is to love with your eyes open. Not to vanish into another, but to expand into your full, radiant self beside them. Not to lose yourself in love, but to lose every spook that told you love must hurt, must chain, must conquer.

Go now, not with a heart burdened by virtue, but a heart hungry for delight, eager to offer care like sunlight: effortless, radiant, and entirely your own.

And if they say, “That’s not real love,” you may smile and say,

“It’s mine.”

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Lecture: The Joy in Nothing, Here's How You Find It

Today, I offer you a lecture on nothingness and joy. Not as abstractions, but as living, burning embers in the chest of the egoist.

You have heard before that Stirner declared that "All things are nothing to me." But do not misunderstand this. He did not mourn. He laughed. When the world revealed itself as empty of intrinsic worth, of divine orders, of sacred duties, He did not weep. He danced.

You see, to the possessed, nothingness is terror. To the egoist, it is fertile soil. A cleared field, after the fire has taken the dead crop. You may now plant what you please.

Joy is born in this very space. Not the joy of obedience, or of moral victory. That is the giggle of the chained man who has painted his cell gold. No. I speak of the joy that bursts when you realize that you need no justification to exist. No name. No label. No great cause. Only yourself, your appetite, your moment.

What is joy without possession? It is the wild grin of the child who builds a castle in the sand, only to kick it down again and laugh. It is the thrill of carving a new name for yourself each morning. Today, I am Max. Tomorrow, I am ghost hunter. Next week, I may be a shadow, a saboteur, a seducer of the sacred.

And yet, some ask, but if all is nothing, why not despair?

Because I am not nothing. I am the nothing that dances. I am the gap in the script. The silence after the sermon. The hunger that is not ashamed. The laugh that is not sanctioned. I do not need purpose. I do not need essence. I do not need to be needed.

The spooks need purpose, so they invent gods and duties and universal rights. They wrap themselves in righteousness like shrouds. They think their ghostliness gives them substance. But it is air. And I walk through it without resistance.

And so should you.

Let go of the idea that joy must be deserved. It must only be taken. Let go of the thought that life must be meaningful. It must only be lived.

You are the great nothing. You are the furnace that burns meaning into what you touch, and forgets it again when you are bored.

So, tell me, what do you want today? Not what you ought to want. Not what they trained you to desire. But what your ownness craves in this exact moment. Name it. Taste it. Use it. And when it no longer suits you, discard it with no regret.

Joy, in this school, is your weapon. Nothingness is your ally. You owe nothing. You are owed nothing. And in that freedom, you may take everything.

Now go. Play in the ashes. And build whatever you like.

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Lol.... the spookiest song you'll ever come across.

How haunted this artist is.

All you have to do is exist, and the ghosts cry in despair.

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