This wine shouldn’t be: that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s what we’re supposed to feel. This wine is wrong.
It’s more than that. This wine shows what’s wrong with everything. It shows that everything shouldn’t be.
Shouldn’t: according to who?
According to anything right and true.
What’s real is disgusting. What’s true is disgusting. The disgusting is the real. The disgusting is the true. It’s the thing in itself, and so on.
This wine is a decomposition. It’s a rotting.
A rotting of what?
Of everything. Of the entire world. The whole lot.
The great disgust, Nietzsche calls it. And that’s the greatest danger, he says: the great disgust. Nothing’s more risky. It’s nihilism, pure and simple.
Disgust is a rejection. But the point is to overcome disgust. To reject our rejection. To turn the no into a yes.
You have to feel disgust at disgust. A disgust at your disgust.
Like, second-degree disgust? Complicated.
We need disgust. As a catalyser. As a necessary condition.
We need to reach the great disgust and overcome it. We need to say no to the no to life.
We have to become convalescents. Go through the sickness. And the illness. We need to see it as a test.
Beyond disgust: that’s where we have to get to. Disgust is something that needs to be overcome, and so on.
Disgust has to become a fountain of pleasure. We have to say yes to what our senses reject. Mastery. Right?
We have to move from becoming no-sayers to become yea-sayers.
‘Are poisoned wells necessary, and stinking fires, and dirtied dreams, and maggots in the bread of life?’
A reversal. A revaluation. Of baseness. Of all disgusting things.
You have to be able to bear the thought of the eternal return of this wine. Of It’s coming back again and again. As if we were to perpetually ruminate on this wine. Endlessly regurgitate it …
We need to love the wine. To savour the wine. All its disgust notes.
To love all the disgusting things. Including ourselves! Especially ourselves!
To be able to bear it – but more than that, to love it.
The depths of disgust. The deepest depths. The abyss of disgust. To be able to bear it and affirm it and love it and all that.
The immanent conversion of the disgusting. The immanent … transformation.
The immanent transfiguration of all the foul things. Changing the meaning of the world.
But that’s impossible, isn’t it? You can’t just affirm this world. You can’t just discover this wine to be delicious. You can’t pretend.
There has to be something else – breaking in. Something from without. Something contentless. A void. The void.
Is the void disgusting? What does the void taste like? What does anything taste like?
No one’s asking you to lick the void. Or to sniff it.
Work in Progress 