Keith Hamilton Cobb's blog

ORIGINAL FICTION: "Whispers in the Void" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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“You are the center of the wheel”, my father would speak into my ear as he rocked me to sleep in his arms on the nights that from among his wives my mother called him to come to her. “All things revolve about you. You are the only god; your strength the greatest strength; your arm the fellest arm.” These words he whispered even as his massive biceps pressed me about the ribs restraining my breath, and my head rested no differently than some fragile paper thing, unarguably crushable in the gulf of his huge hand.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Things My Father and Mother Said to Me" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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Things My Father Said To Me

Think and all the ancestors think with you. Fight and you fight alone.

None do more ill than those perpetually endeavoring to do “good”.

No dead thing has a value. Think before killing, then kill without further thought. Indecision is deadly. Guilt and remorse are as valueless as dead things.

Honor Drago in all that you do and let be. Exaltation is for humans and idiots.

EAT…and grow strong.

Let no one ever force you to repeat yourself, but say nothing more or less the first time than what you are prepared to defend.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "The Relativity of Ethics" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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My father was quite fond of reading and quoting a Nietzschean supremacist poet who called himself King Darius, or “The King”. He wrote, “Glorious son, go up from the nightside and look down on us. / Where the lights shine brightest, there! There are we. / Where darkness alone resides, yet there are peoples whose one resource is wishing. / Go up because you can. / It will remind you of who you are.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "The Beautiful Captain Hunt" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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The physicist, Albert Einstein uncountable eons ago said this: “A human being is part of the whole called by us ‘the universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and affection for a few persons nearest to us.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "On Sex and Violence" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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“Making love”… While no Nietzschean ever tends to use that Human euphemism, my grandfather, Temujin II, would say that no man is to be trusted who doesn’t subsist on a steady diet of sex and violence as well. Of course, from a Nietzschean perspective, no man is to be trusted regardless, but why waste a perfectly valid turn of phrase for the sake of a technicality? My grandfather, whom I admired, was a bit of a Dragonian lunatic, if I may use it as a term of endearment; a less extreme incarnation of his old namesake, Temujin I.

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