Continuing a line of thought that persists through this website, beauty is real – that form is real. As viewed through the phenomena, beauty is augmented and contracted but it is still wholly immutable. It is as real as justice and law. Like them, it must be maintained by men – for beauty is not a sole ornament to be admired and cast aside; it is rather a measuring rod between the noble and the paltry – the cultured and the savage. It is the overlooked trim that frames the world, shaping our perceptions with quiet, unwavering authority. It is a firm truth woven into the very essence of existence.

She wore an olive button up and simple slacks – mud stains adorning both. The blouse fit loosely to her slender form. Her features were a mix of strong and weak, healthy and worn. Her short hair swept by the breeze and scraggly, arms smooth as if they were just sandblasted; she had a soft face and sad eyes. She embodied the word nubile. ~Apr 14, 2021

It has long stood as the barrier between civilization and chaos. But then the envious hand of postmodernism and envious-idealism sought to pull at the very fabric of life until there is nothing left but a thread. Beauty is deemed as “tyranny” and “injustice”. It is “unfair, oppressive, and exclusionary”. It is traditional and stagnant – it discriminates. It is immeasurable yet omnipresent. And so, beauty had to die.

The generation that eats the shoveled shlock of millennial blow-heart deadened losers sees the world only through such outlets. A written letter – words on paper, your heart and soul strung out across college rule has been downgraded to Hallmark cards and one sentence thoughts. ~Oct 28, 2022

Beauty is as immutable as gravity. A Marxist is unable to acknowledge the immaterial, so beauty is redefined as an “illusionary” privilege. “But it isn’t tied to race – because race doesn’t exist – and it isn’t real – but you still privilege of it”. It has to be dismantled, because it is so very human. It is as archetypal and universal as mourning the dead and celebrating the harvest. To admire it, to seek it, even to acknowledge its reality is to betray oneself as a contemptuous reactionary. Everything has been democratized; “no man above another; no student greater than his peer” and by extension “no art finer, no ‘beauty’ truer, no form more worthy than any other”. It is the tyranny of equality. It flattens all distinction. Beauty is – in of itself – a natural aristocracy. “No grain shall grow taller than another”. Every building must be a soviet bloc – endless corporate art – music is reduced to repetitive noise – all modern “elegance” is parody. There is no charm anymore, and you are told this is liberation. Everything is grey and lifeless; everything is ugly. Beauty is order, and order demands hierarchy – but ugly, ugly is easy. Ugly demands nothing. They call ugliness freedom. They celebrate the mediocre. We are told to celebrate the grotesque and to oust excellence as sin. Beauty is rare. It is unfair. And that is precisely what makes it precious. That is what makes it sacred.