nyuuzyou/wikis huggingface dataset:
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/225

My character. I have always been a philosopher masquerading as a novelist because philosophy was not a proper expression of our time. It had become the province of takers—scholars—academicians. Cut another way I am the boy sent out by God to do a man’s job, the saint who must explore psychopathy. For the sociostatic principle protects itself in times of danger by trying to choose the man least fit to do the job (when it is a question of a human whose total life movement is rebellious, anti-social, essentially homeostatic). 
So I who was one of the worst soldiers ever to go into an Army, one of the people who had the least feeling for Army life, nonetheless was the one who had to capture the psychology inside and out of the Army. I, who am timid, cowardly, and wish only friendship and security, am the one who must take on the whole world (The small trumpet of my defiance). I, whose sexual nature is to cling to one woman like a child embracing the universe, am driven by my destiny to be the orgiast, or at least the intellectual mentor of orgasm. I, who find it essentially easier to love than to hate; I who could probably find more people to love in the world than anyone I know, am destined to write about characters who are conventionally “un-loveable.” I, who in another time would have been the contemplative spirit which filled a cathedral with love, see my soul-duty as the man in the vanguard, the assassin in the night, the demolitioneer, the rapist, the arsonist, the murderer, the great destroyer. No wonder society chose me as the man to go to the end of the night—nobody could be more unfit for the job. 
Contrariwise, Bob is the psychopath sent out to become a saint. Yet, each of us takes our hard road. As I become tougher, more adventurous, more of a fighter, so Bob becomes more good. I am willing to bet he is a far kinder, more good person today than he used to be.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/228

The movement of my writing. Naked is a saintly book, everything is understood and forgiven. Barbary is the attempt to do two things at once. The characters are psychopaths who think of themselves as saints and saints who have acted like psychopaths (McLeod). The Deer Park is a parade of psychopaths. I pretend to be condemning, but what repels most people from the book is that I am really saying Rejoice in these people—they are marvelous, they are helping us to destroy the world. The Deer Park is perhaps the first successful and almost-honest expression of myself as a saint writing about psychopaths and loving them. But the neurotic little boy clouded the issue and tried to make people think he was condemning. 
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/229

I have always been the romantic masquerading as the realist. That is what has given the peculiar tension (word echo peculair for peculiar—in the peculiar there is air, there is life) to my work. Now, as I become aware that I am really an enormous romantic my work may suffer tremendously for some time. It is certainly true that the style of this journal is almost unremittingly crude mainly because I have so much to say.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/230

To condemn. To condeMN. Or NM. Norman Mailer, or in society Mailer, Norman which is MN which is conde Mn. Or cunt and Mailer. I condemn because I see that as a masculine act, and in the past I have been trying to hide my cunt from people. Now I advertise my cunt because I have more confidence in my cock (Do I?) or are the defenses retreating? 
Anyway, as I expressed in an earlier note, the sounds of N and M are highly masculine, Glen, Slim, and John, etc. And the sound of ‘r’ is a very active masculine sexual word. It is Red, Rage, Ire, Choler, Rod, Race, Rough, Rail, Roil, Riot. In this sense there are good words and bad words. Words whose meanings and whose consonants and vowels are compatible—there is a psychic onomatopoeia to them. Anglo-Saxon is full of this and the focus of Anglo-Saxon-obscenities. Fuck, piss, cock, shit, cunt, prick, suck, . . . and luck. Luck is the loving fuck the universe gives one. And ‘L’ probably has psychic connotations of tenderness, clinging, fullness—to wit, love, lust, lewd, languish, lair, lie, lady, lass, etc. Now, P and S. Piss and Shit. But there may be a crossing here. Hidden and reversed onomatopoeiasm for Puh is close to the sound of shitting and sssssss is close to the sound of pissing. Thus the Ses and Pes get into words like Shut Up. (Stop pissing and shitting.) 
Naturally, everything I’ve said here applies only to English. In other languages there are undoubtedly profound psychic differences in the meanings of sounds because after all the consonants and vowels of foreign languages are never exactly identical to English. I’m not enough of a linguist to trace obscenities and nuances of other languages, but what occurs to me in a small way is that our R in English may be conveyed by the JO (pronounced Cho as in Hebrew) of the Spanish. For example angry is enojo, and red is rojo. Anyway, back to condemn and NM. This entire note came out of the curiosity I felt about leaving out the N in condemning as the last word of note 228.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/231

Our resistance about changing the spelling of the English language, and our teaching of new methods of learning to read by syllables rather than by letters may have profound meaning sociostatically. It may be a sociostatic retreat that the teaching of reading is changing, it may be a sociostatic advance. 
The little “curiosity” that English is spelled so unphonetically may be a very large and important actuality. I suspect that English more than other languages is very close to expressing psychic onomatopoeias. Therefore we muck it up with spellings which divert us from what is really being said. Thus receipt and deceat (I can no longer spell it)—deceit, and seat. If they were spelled reseet, and deseet, and seat, the echo of receipt—our rage at potential deceit—would be obviously deceit and seat, which is somehow, I feel, tied up with our asses and our ass-holes. It would all be too evident. 
Countries like France and Spain do not have such vast separations between society and soul—therefore, they can afford to spell more phonetically—their people aren’t burning so to close the discrepancy. There may well be a material (that is bio-chemical) basis to such things as National Character—it comes from language. Even in America no one can convince me that Southerners and Northerners are not seriously different.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/232

Rojo and ojo. Red and Eye. Ire and Eye. Ire or Rage are the anger released at suddenly “seeing”. We actually say, I saw red. And “rage”—it is the red of age—our fury at how society makes us die. Only man sees death as death. Animals see death as danger. 
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/233

Man and his dog. Two neurotic beings. For the dog above all animals is capable of being domesticated, and seems to live with the same love-guilt-rage-sorrow axis as man. For the dog like man has two nervous systems—shall we call them dogeostasis and masteriostasis? The dog is not only a dog, he is also his master. Biochemically, his master has gotten into him. That is why we have such contempt for dogs. We say “What a dog,” or “A dog’s life.” It is because we see ourselves in our tragic contradiction, cowed by society. Dog is God spelled backwards.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/235

Romance and realism. Naked seems to be a realistic journalistic novel. But I was actually taking on the first crude statement of what will probably be the intellectual theme of my life. Those who are Naked (homeostatic) and those who are Dead (sociostatic). For underneath, as Laughton has been saying over and over, the men in Naked are Heroes, and Naked is the story of a group of men who each individually makes a terrible journey, a long journey. All of Naked is a Journey, structurally, thematically, symbolically. It was prophetic for myself—up to a point. The men (me) that is (Me—N) orman) (Norman—No man but for his R)—his red ruddy root.) 
Anyway, Me, the Men, are mired in the jungle, the world, the contradiction, the depression—and then they are sent out to explore, to adventure—they end up climbing the mountain of Philosophy because their leader Croft (What is in his name?) (Coughed, roft—raft, rift, reft, ruft—coughed with rage—and indeed these days my cough is getting milder—Crift, Craft, (Kraft), Crowft, Cryft, Cruft, Crot (Crotch?) and Crof—I can’t find anything which seems really revealing. 
Anyway, because their leader Croft who is obviously the saint-psychopath in me, just as Cummings is the Affected sociostatic version of Croft and me——anyway, Croft leads them up the mountain toward God. (Treating them incidentally like dogs, just as I in a part of myself used to treat the rest of me as if I were a dog.) But I couldn’t resolve it at the point where I was then. The neurotic Jewish boy had to condemn and put in a degraded form the highest expression of himself—Croft, McLeod, Marion—and so I ducked out the back door, and left the mountain to God, and let the hornet’s nest (What a symbol! I sure kicked it open with The Deer Park) chase the men down the mountain. Even Croft. But at least he knew that the mountain was Everything. The jungle is depression, the mountain is terror and exaltation.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/236

The saint and the psychopath are homeostatic rather than sociostatic. But there is one way—so long as there is history (one day we shall have hissoul than history)—there is one way the psychopath is superior to the saint. The psychopath is the giver rather than the taker—he may appear to take, to ravish, to steal, to cheat, but actually he is giving—he beats, he thumps, he prods, he wounds, he leaves his knife in the victim, he leaves his terrifying presence in the empty bank vault, he leaves his malice in the breast of the sucker (What a word. The sucker is always a taker).
The saint, on the other hand, who seems to give (when he is so inclined) goodness and charity and works and hope, is actually taking in the psychic sense. He arouses goodness in people, he drains them of wrath, he takes from everyone around him, thereby enabling people to feel alive which is the same as feeling one is good. Hemingway saw it. He always says I felt good for I felt alive (Word echoes: Good and O God; Woe is me and Woman). But, fundamentally, the saint is taking from people, taking so that he may reach God. 
Which is why deep down we resent saints and admire psychopaths. For saints take from us (they are beyond words and so cannot give) and psychopaths always give. Which is why I like Jonesie [James Jones]. As I always said about him, “When he’s around you get the feeling that things are going to happen, and indeed they often do.”
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/239

I was deeply instinctively right in Naked to go in for obscenity. Society fights obscenity because the truths of the universe are hidden in it. Sociostasis forces the truths of the universe to be hidden in all degraded froms. (I meant to say forms, but actually forms are froms-derivatives, substitutes.) Our fascination with evil does not come because we, humankind, are evil—it is because evil is the degraded expression sociostasis permits of the good, of the life-force. The abstract social contract (the contract where man abandoned simple forms of social cooperation—where every man knew every other man—the simple social contract) became frozen for Western civilization at least on the massive sociostatsis of the Catholic Church which deprived humankind of sex and embodied sex in itself. For what the church said is that the Mystery (of the creation of man) is bodiless rather than body. It said that Life and the Good (God) comes from the joining of the Virgin with The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost. Man as soul wanted to say, Fucking is Holy, but it’s no Ghost. Society said: Fucking is no Ghost, but it is very evil.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/240

Yet the course of human history reveals something else. Which is that homeostasis through the centuries has been on the advance. Indeed, it should be, for homeostasis accepted its enemy sociostasis in order that homeostasis might grow. (My God, dialectics.) But each victory of homeostasis created a new more highly complex form of sociostasis, more capable of dealing with the more alive and varied homeostasis. That is why Western man today is at the edge of the abyss—the war is at an incredible level of subtlety and enormity. Yet the hope is that the social forms do change as they retreat. 
Today saintly people do go into the Catholic Church, but they bore from within. The Church as it appears to get more flexible—and indeed its techniques amaze one with their variety, subtlety, power and insight—is nonetheless weakening. Saints and psychopaths are running wild through it, altering its sensibility. The church is being hipsterized. Television, Sheen, advertising, talk of the Pope’s mistress at cocktail parties on the East Side, and in the arm of the Church, the F.B.I., they are getting paranoid sensitivity which is rendering the ridiculous to the liberal, and frightening to the conservative. The F.B.I. is just swept with the psychology of secret policemen who project onto the enemy their own enormous criminality. The result—for paranoids are usually right except that they have neglected the little matter of Time, they have over-anticipated—is that the F.B.I. is suffering from the most acute sense of being right, and yet to their horror, wherever they have scientific tests they discover they are more often wrong than right, even though they fight admitting it. The result is ferocious unbearable anxiety. The-anxiety-of-statesmen. One reads the word every day—a far cry from Victorian statesmen. 
So, there is hope. For even as homeostasis is tortured, so too is sociostasis. The mass-communication media are always in danger of getting out of hand, the hipsters spread and so does hipster sensitivity. Hipsters are generally takers, they are cool, but hipsters will take even action from Givers, and great Givers are growing.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/241

For years, unknowingly, I talked like a bopster. Quickly, confusingly, one moment seeming to make great sense, the next moment bewildering, ideas knocking one another on the head, emotional currents of communication thrown out rather than precise wording, stumbling, stammering, racing, articulate and inarticulate often on the same word, and never going to orgasm, but trailing off so that I left my listeners excited, stimulated…and frustrated, irritated.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/242

Bebop. P and B are sibling consonants, almost identical twins. Like T and D. So Bebop is be pop or pee pop—Go ahead father, piss. The trickling quality of the orgasm is implicit in the word, but so, too, is the subtlety, the lingering, the capacity to say many things at once. Man is at the point where the highest developed humans are starting to communicate on more than one level at the same time, and the words on bebop records can mean two or three things at the same time. It is absolutely conceivable that humans will speak in the style of Finnegans Wake in centuries or millennia or possibly much sooner.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/243

Writer’s blocks exist because the writer is in danger. His sociostatic forces are mobilized against where his homeostatic urges are leading him, and if the danger is great enough, nothing will come out. Life is pure depression. What is a more usual case is that the writer advances slowly against his sociostasis, burdened with depression. 
A novel is the record of a sociostatic retreat if it is a great or good novel. A bad novel is the record of a sociostasis advance (all this of course relative to the talents, the danger, and homeostatic energy of the creator) and the bad novel being the record of a sociostatic advance is written usually more rapidly and with more satisfaction until the hangover comes—the homeostatic urges (homeodynamic would be a much better word)—Now, I’ve got it. 
Homeostasis is not homeostatic at all. It is homeodynamism vs. sociostasis—The hangover comes because homeodynamic forces are enraged at the self and shame is felt. Thus: for people: Homeodynamic expression arouses emotions of guilt which are generated by sociostasis. Sociostatic expression arouses emotions of shame which are generated by homeodynamism. Thus guilt and shame are not close—They are Polar.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/244

Golfers are people who take their one ball and whack it a mile away; they are so angry their other ball was taken away years ago. Of course there are also putters who love to nudge their little ball lovingly. Iron shooters I don’t dig although there’s a lot in the word. Sand-blasters seem obvious, I think. They want to do a real big blast, but they don’t want the ball to go too far away. Not to mention hooks and slices. They must be very painful to a one-balled man.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/245

Put another way, the sociostatic mechanism in writers allows them each time to express their thought in the least dangerous way for society. So, depending on the kind of personality, the time, and the style and expression of homeodynamic urge and the sociostatic repression (in their philosophical extensions these are very different from id and super-ego—mainly because Freud saw id as generally “bad” and I see it as generally “good”—I am turning Freud on his head just as Marx turned Hegel on his head.) 
Let’s repeat: the sociostatic repression always allows the writer the least dangerous (to society) expression of his vision. The homeodynamic demands the most. Given conditions, the compromise, to wit the work, is always the best possible expression, the most efficient compromise. Which is why I say homeostasis is the compromise of homeodynamism and sociostasis.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/246

But look at the philosophical results of this. It states that whatever we did in the past was the best possible thing we could have done and there is no use whatsoever in regretting our past actions. Indeed as analysts have discovered guilt is often used to keep from moving forward. And if people believed what I say here, sociostasis would suffer an enormous set-back, a great rout, for the expressions of homeodynamism would be more positive, more adventurous—the cavalry, so to speak, of sociostasis would be dismounted, and the charges with the sword replaced. (As indeed unhappily they have been—by tanks (Psychoanalysts), which reminds me that in the 112th Cavalry all the ignorant Texans used to spell it Calvary.)
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/248

Which leads me to the one and the two. Society is always saying X is One. Man always knows X is Two. For example, Society says crime is bad. Religion is good. Man knows that crime is bad but beneath the crime is goodness; religion is good but beneath it is death and evil. 
One is a unity. It is static. Two is infinity. That is to say in the act “ideationally” of moving from one to two we pass through an infinity of movements from the one to the two. 1.0000000001, 1.0000000002 and so forth. 
Stasis is one. Movement is infinite. That is why the novelist is so important. For centuries now he has been one of the few who keep saying in the good man there is bad, in the bad man there is good—he keeps us alive to the scope of infinity which does not diminish man but ennobles him.
Society always wants one. That is why totalitarianism is its final expression, and its final victory it if could ever achieve it, but thank God I don’t see how it can.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/250

To go back to note 246. The sociostatic repression allows the writer the least dangerous (to society) expression of his vision (homeodynamic urge). Therefore, style gives the clue usually to what happened in the soul. The great stylist is indeed a man who relatively does not have too much to say. There are geniuses like Joyce, Proust and Mann who said an awful lot, but the difficulties of their style kept them alive so to speak—they would have been hung if people had been able to understand them. 
To the other side are the bad stylists like myself who are just overflowing with ideas. My sociostatic defense is that I express them so badly that nearly everyone reading this journal would take me for a crank. My sociostatic defense (S.D.) at this stage is to allow the ideas to come in such waves that all is confusion. The S.D. (Social Democrat) hopes that I’ll waste these ideas by throwing them away in the crudities of the style. But even this is dangerous for it. 
For years my brain was most alive when I was incapable of taking a note, or trapping the thought. And in my novels like Barbary and Deer Park where I had comparatively few ideas, I could reach them only through great pain, and the most stubborn depression and writing blocks. Yet I broke sociostatic things in myself. I have lost weight and with it depression. I am manic, alive, filled every day with the excitement and revelation of everything I see. 
Bergler, who has homeodynamic impulses so vast that he has to smother them in the most violent reactionary sociostasis, too violent even for his confreres, reveals great truths by the absurdity of his dictums. And once in a while he is magnificently right, despite himself. So I understand that he wrote that the writer writes away the defense in the course of writing. And that is so true. There is that wonderful line in The Deer Park which goes: “There was that law of life, so cruel and so just, which demanded that one must grow or else pay more for remaining the same.” So the writer has to grow and the more his talent the more he has to grow. 
Which is why it is so awful and so exciting to be a novelist. Of all the art forms it is the one where one can hide the least, and in this country where growth is the most accelerated there is small wonder that American novelists die artistically very young. To be a great American novelist demands a superman. That is why great writers in America are not able to turn out work after work of equal value—the moment they do not continue to grow, the sociostatic defenses chase them back in a rout, as indeed they have to for the great American writer is living very dangerously.
Category:January 24, 1955
Lipton’s Journal/January 24, 1955/252

Children’s eating. Animals know the food they need, simple animals. Rats in laboratories eating white powders at will and thriving better than their controls who are given the best administered diets. But that is because animals have a single nervous system. 
Children are born with a single nervous system, the homeodynamic, but the years of their childhood are the years when the sociostatic nervous system is set into the child. It is obviously a turbulent abrupt set of victories and defeats for the two systems, and so one is working and then the other. Therefore, simply, there are times when children eat exactly what they need; there are other times when their eating is completely sociostatic and very bad for them. 
Homeodynamic eating always preserves life. Sociostatic eating is to preserve society, lull rebellion, but in the process the body may be injured. Sweet poisonings for example coming out of the languorous libidinous frustrations of the wrestler-giver. Which is what fat people very often are—certain kinds of fat people, Adeline, Jenny Silverman, others. 
Category:January 24, 1955