tisdag 29 september 2026

A presentation of Svensson


This is a biographical survey of Lennart Svensson, author.








General info

Svensson likes to be called just that, "Svensson". He is the Swedish Svensson living in Svargadesha, the heavenly land on top of the world. In a way, the Svensson gestalt is a symbol the land of the north Olaus Rudbeck spoke of, Hyperborea, "de yverbornas land", "land of the high born", literally.

Svensson is the author of Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait, Science Fiction Seen from the Right and Borderline -- A Traditionalist Outlook for Modern Man. -- This entry first has a bio, then a bibliograhy with links to Svensson's books, then some notes on "the way ahead" and, lastly, a gallery.







Bio

Lennart Svensson was born in the north of Sweden in 1965. After national service at I 21 regiment he settled for a while in Uppsala, studying the classics and working in a restaurant. He left in 2010 as a trained chef and a BA in Indology. He now lives in Härnösand on the north-eastern Swedish coast.

In Swedish Svensson published some fiction in book form before switching to writing in English. On the Australian imprint Manticore Books he published Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait in 2014 and Richard Wagner -- A Portrait in 2015. In 2015 he also published the essay Borderline -- A Traditionalist Outlook for Modern Man on Numen Books.

A major essay of Svensson saw light of day in 2016: Science Fiction Seen from the Right. This was a literary study portraying the genres of sf and fantasy from a radical conservative viewpoint, as such, totally unique in the history of these genres. For they are otherwise totally imbued by a left-leaning, materialist-nihilist, reductionist mindset. With his essay, Svensson attempts to bring wonder and awe, conservative style, back into science fiction.

Indeed, Svensson has a conservative outlook in life, appreciating traditional art and culture of the Nordic and Western kind along with the Sanâtana Dharma of India. Svensson aims at giving the audience his traditionally footed worldview in popular form, in both essay and novel form. A proof of the latter is the fantasy Redeeming Lucifer (2017). This was his novel debut in English, and it is still in print. For the record his first-ever fiction piece in this language was the story The Middle Zone, published in Morpheus Tales: The Best Weird Fiction, Volume 3 (2013).

Before this, before his career as a writer in English, Svensson as intimated had published novels in Swedish. And he still writes in Swedish, like publishing his history of Sweden, Ett rike utan like, in 2025.








Bibliography (selective)

. Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait, 2014 ("A biography of the very highest calibre", Living Traditions Magazine)
. Borderline -- A Traditionalist Outlook for Modern Man, 2015 ("Spanning from Plato to Castaneda, Svensson manages to not only capture the essential spark and esoteric meaning of conjectures regarding ontology—the nature of being—but he also manages to recast these conjectures in a new light", Juleigh Howard-Hobson in Heathen Harvest).
. Science Fiction Seen from the Right, 2016 ("a book which not just looks at literature “from the Right” but raises questions about what, ultimately, is the Right itself", James O'Meara in Counter-Currents).
. Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man, 2017 (this is my philosophy of life, a self-help guide, a moral completion of the ontology sketched in Borderline, see above).
. A Portrait of Julius Evola, 2025 (this is a popular portrayal of the Italian traditionalist, †1974, who today is a kind of symbol of controversial esotericism.
. Redeeming Lucifer, 2017 (By the publisher the novel is described thus: "This is a classic, exciting adventure story for all ages of the battle between Light and Dark, told with unique imagination and acute historical detail.").
. Burning Magnesium, 2018 (a novel playing on the eastern front of WW2).
. Stellar Storm, 2023 (an sf novel)

The whole Svensson bibliography is seen on this blog page.





The Way Ahead

Svensson is currently planning more books, both essays and novels. Inspiration-wise he's not in the doldrums right now.

Svensson sees it like this: the world of today is in a mess. There are no politicians around worthy of respect. And even if there are, the zeitgeist is in the grip of materialist nihilism, reductionism and myopic scientism. Against this, Svensson proposes a holistic worldview, a spiritualist, energetic mindfulness where the will-thought and passion of the individual is given its due.

With the saying, "I AM," an individual affirms his divine nature. This is the centerpiece of Svensson's thought. Read about it in Borderline. And in Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man.

Svensson is a mystic, a magus maestro of sorts. He holds that we must evolve from believing in mere science to embrace eternal wisdom. A deeper understanding of man in the universe, of the relation between micro- and macrocosm, is needed -- and this is given by the perennial thought of ancient tradition, of pertinent parts of Christianity, Hinduism, paganism and shamanism.

Today's cultural zeitgeist is soulless, flat and tepid. Against this, Svensson attempts at bringing pizzazz, wonder and glory back into the picture.

This is mirrored in all of Svensson's works. It is the colorful doctrine of "power, joy, success" as an alternative to the splenetic defatism currently holding us back.















Gallery




Working as a dishwasher, 2012.









Härnösand 2016.









Sundsvall 2017.









Sundsvall 2017, in front of a painting by his brother Robert Svensson.

















Related
Svensson's bibliography
Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man (2017)
A Portrait of Julius Evola (2026)
Some notes on Guénon

måndag 28 september 2026

Dagbok 28/09 2026

Idag är det måndag. Amen.








Ära vare Gud i höjden och frid på jorden.

Amen.

+++

Detta är en helgad uppdatering.
Om -- immer -- Ymir -- Omma...
Detta är heliga helhets salvation --
för saltets helgon i helgens Helgoland,
det saliga saltets salut...
Detta är helig hälsa i Halland -- Hallsberg -- Hälsingegåva.
Och så predikar jag. Amen.

+++

Alfred Schuler ansåg att modern arkeologi borde vara mer from. Som att ha mer respekt för de gravar man gräver ut.

Man bör som arkeolog vara andligt präglad, låta mindfulness göra aktiviteten till något annat än modern gravplundring. Man bör vid utgrävning av gammal grav understryka att man erkänner dödens majestät. För som det är idag är arkeologer ibland föga mer än just gravplundrare, blanknötta nihilister som bara jagar föremål och fakta. Detta är ett av många exempel på att vår kultur behöver "återhelgas". Den behöver ”resacralization”.

Vad samhället behöver tillskott av i fall som dessa är alltså fromma ceremonier. Och ett exempel på, trots allt, iakttagen fromhet i ett dylikt sammanhang är det följande: en egyptisk mumie fraktad till Paris för en undersökning 1976 fick en mottagning värdig en statschef. Med Bruno K. Öijers ord:
... när farao Ramses mumie
flögs från Egypten till Paris
för en medicinsk undersökning
som skulle hindra kroppens förfall
mötte en militär hedersvakt upp
ute vid flygplatsen
som vid ett utländskt statsbesök
jag såg något hoppfullt i det här
oklart vad

(namnlös dikt i Svart som silver, W&W 2008)


+++

En skribent och caféhjälte, Klaus Mann, var en av de många Mann.

Man kan säga: i det virtuella "Mannheim" har vi först Thomas Mann, Nobelpristagare. Sedan har vi Heinrich Mann, dennes broder och författare till romanen Der Blaue Engel. Sedan har vi Klaus och Golo Mann, söner till Thomas. Klaus skrev för sin del romanen Mefisto, om en skådespelare i Tyskland med Gustaf Gründgens (†1963) som förebild. Den blev även en film på 80-talet med Klaus Maria Brandauer i huvudrollen. -- Klaus Mann är fokus för denna text. Ty han gjorde en gång ett försök att spela historiskt orakel. Året var 1932, platsen var München, och på ett café såg Klaus detta:
Där satt han, omgiven av ett par gynnade kumpaner och lät sig jordgubbsbakelserna väl smaka. Jag tog plats vid ett bort intill dem, knappt en meter bort. Han mumsade i sig ännu en jordgubbsbakelse med vispgrädde... sedan en tredje – om det inte redan var den fjärde.

Jag äter själv ganska gärna sötsaker, men anblicken av hans halvt infantila, halvt rovdjursmässiga glupskhet betog mig aptiten. För övrigt ville jag, då slumpen nu en gång fört mig dit, koncentrera hela min uppmärksamhet på läckergommen vid bordet bredvid mig – vilket knappast skulle gått för sig, om jag själv smort kråset.

Han föreföll] vara av en synnerligen oädel materia och beskaffenhet – en otrevlig bracka med hysteriskt grumlad blick i det bleka och pussiga ansiktet. Ingenting tydde på storhet eller ens på begåvning!

Det var sannerligen ingen behaglig känsla att sitta i närheten av en sådan varelse; och ändå kunde jag inte se mig mätt på det vidriga plytet. Särskilt tilldragande hade jag aldrig tyckt honom vara – vare sig på bilder eller i den upplysta talarstolen, men den fulhet som jag nu hade mitt emot mig överträffade ändå alla mina förväntningar. Vulgariteten i hans anletsdrag lugnade mig och verkade välgörande. – – – Ta du dig en jordgubbsbakelse till, Schicklgruber – det är väl den femte? Om ett par år kan du inte längre kosta på dig det: du kommer att vara en tiggare, en bortglömd man om några korta små år. Du kommer aldrig till makten!
Det var alltså Klaus Mann, sittande på Carlton Teestube i München 1932, som gjorde ovanstående reflektion. Citerat efter Hans Villius "Makten, äran och helvetet" (1959) -- Man kan säga att Mann är som Eliots diktfigur Sweeney: "I've measured my life in coffee spoons". Detta försök till profetia över AH är helt enkelt kaffeprat och jargong. Men av etablissemangsskribenter av idag hyllat som en idealisk fri essästil. Ty jag har sett texten citeras av andra dinosaurier som Helig Skrift, såsom Sankt Peter Englund.

+++

Lyckans dagar, energins och styrkans -- den sublima dyrkans dager -- säger "Om -- om -- om"...

Jag kommer härmed spontant att tänka på sublim litteratur. Jag kommer att tänka på några spridda läsvärda sannmänskliga stormän och deras verk. Jag framhåller härmed storskogens basunljudande litteraturklang, framförd med puka och dans.

Om vi håller oss till detta inläggs osökta tyska tema, så har vi i ämnet en sådan som Ernst von Salomon. Han är en av få tyskar förutom Ernst Jünger från den generationen som från höger gjorde intryck rent skönlitterärt. Med Die Geächteten ("De föraktade", finns på engelska som The Outlaws) skildrar von Salomon Weimartiden ur desperata högerradikalers synvinkel. Organisation Consul. Lönnmord. -- I Pegaser och käpphästar (1950) ägnar Sten Selander en essä åt detta verk.

Om vi stannar kvar i Tyskland har vi här en strilbriljant essä: Preussentum und Sozialismus av Oswald Spengler. Den har, än idag, relevans. Så här är det: Spenglers magnum opus Untergang des Abendlandes har nog goda enskildheter, men är något tungrodd med sin kvasimetafysiska överbyggnad (dikotomin "vardande och vordet", det sämsta draget i Nietzsches filosofi). Bättre då med Preussentum och Sozialismus, som koncentrerar sig på att teckna den tyska särarten. Jag menar, ser man på Tyskland efter 1945, dess näringslivstriumf, så är det ju tack vare en "soldatiskt" lojal arbetsstyrka som segrar vunnits. Detta är ett av de avgörande skälen till att sådant som den tyska bilindustrin blivit Europas bästa och ofta sätter trenden för hela världen (premiumbilar). Detta ska ses till skillnad från framför allt Englands bilindustri, som trots goda designkoncept helt saknade produktionsteknisk talang och, viktigt, vars arbetsstyrka var radikal-illojal och lagd för strejker titt som tätt. De dåtida, "pre-Thatcher" engelska fackförbunden hade politiska ambitioner, man var influerade av vänsterism, man var i krig mot företagsledningarna. Resultatet vet vi: man strejkade sönder sin bilindustri. Man saknade lojalitet. Man saknade "preussentum" i sin socialism.

+++

Härmed mer ur världslitteraturens skattkammare, nu sådant som jag nyligen läst. Och alltfort med anknytning till Tyskland.

Beevor, Kreta (2007). Tredje omläsningen; Beevors stil är bra nog för att jag ska hylla denna bok. Strider 1941 på stenig medelhavsö mellan tyskar och samväldestrupper. Med många intressanta porträtt av medverkande, mest britter; Beevor förmår elegant ge både ris och ros åt det engelska sättet att föra krig. Speer, Memoarer (1967). Berättelsen börjar först 1937. Det var en besvikelse. Kort sagt, dåligt och fegt att på detta sätt undvika begynnelsen -- så för Speers ungdom och avgörande första tid under AH måste man gå till Fests Speerbiografi. I övrigt ges det intressant info i självbiografin hur byggnaderna ifråga kom till. Och intressant hur man med ordets gåva tar sig ur en anklagelse, det som all Speers möda efter 1945 gick ut på.







Related
Sankt Peter, svensk författare
Fenor och krom
Mythago Wood
Ballard
Reportage: kyrkogården
Edith Södergran: krigiskt sinnelag
Bertil Malmberg hedras i Härnösand
Boye: Kallocain (1940)
Gedin: Verner von Heidenstam -- ett liv (2006)
Engdahl: Cigaretten efteråt
Some notes on Spengler: my own round-up of ideas about Spengler
Evola: Pagan Imperialism
Evola: Absolute Man
Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait (2014)

onsdag 16 september 2026

Jack Steelnack: a short story about an Absolute Man, Total Man, Magician Man: about a latter-day Superman, Overman, Man Plus

Hereby a story. By whom? By me, Svensson, yours truly. And regarding the story per se, you could say: it is about a proficiency for excellence. Enjoy.
















1.

It is a placid afternoon, sometime in the fifth post-atlantean era. Sitting on the ramada of his bungalow, Jack Steelnack, dressed in riding boots and breeches, tunic, shirt, tie and a sidecap, says:

"I'm a genius. Now I'm waiting for my goddess. Her name is Amanda Impala and lives on 52 Main Street, Dharma Town, this very town I, too, live in."

Thus begins a stupendous adventure, an epic that came to encompass good and evil, right and wrong, wine and women, and more. It all ends on a lake shore in Outer Mongolia where the hero sat meditating, encompassing the whole universe in a final Amen.
Oh pattern, made by one above me --
at least I'm happy, oh happy I...!
This he meditates upon. He is a pious practitioner, a God-sent believer in God.

He comes to rest, finding sublime shânti and quietude under the parasol in his backyard patio this sunny day. He comes to rest in spontaneous meditation; he is the All, he is in contact with God, he is God, a lesser divinity under the All-God, a Tipareth avatar under the Prime Kether God, sephiroth number six under sephiroth number one.

+++

After a while he awakes from the trance, aware of his divine being. Picking up a staff he goes out in the nearby woods, singing:
Going through the woods, feeling divine-divine-divine...
Going to a show, feeling divine-divine-divine...
Going through the city, standing on a square,
seeing magpies flying 'round, feeling divine-divine-divine...
He goes into the forest to calm down. He was excited these days, excited by the love for his woman, by the inspiration he had for preaching and teaching to mankind.

He sits down on a bench. He exhales. Then he inhales. Through the nose. This ensures maximum vril ingestion. This he knows.

He sings as he sits by the bench, looking out over a sweet valley of buildings in a coniferous woodland:
Going to a go-go, banging on a gong,
holding a sermon, entrancing all...
He gathers himself. He prays to the Lord above, tuning into the cosmic vibrations.

He gets up, goes home, gets inside and puts on a gown that touches the ground. Then he hears the bell ring. A servant opens and greets Amanda Impala. She's a symphony of femininity, a blond bombshell, mucho quicho in the Nordic way, dressed in a straw hat and a print dress of flowery forms on white.

The woman says "Hello, Franz", gives her hat to the servant and goes inside. Seeing Jack she smiles and he, in turn, says:

"Adorable darling you; the shadow of your smile, the symphony of your gestalt, the united colors of your being -- who can describe it, what artist can put it in words...?"

"So don't" she says and kisses him.

They go out into the garden. In a lilac bower there's a table set with wine and confitures, waited on by another servant. He nods and invites them to sit down in sea-green chairs by the white marble table.

Having toasted his amour Jack says:
I am temple and tree,
the guru in the garden --

a golden guru going south,
a hat-clad don Juan,
Merlin the Magician --

a golden river flowing south,
arcane, hyaline, melting
the glacier of nihilism.

I am Martian Messiah,
Pleiadean Preacher --

"glowing God of Mars,
body burning bright" --

riding on the wind,
guided by the immemorial
voice of a myth --

teaching, preaching,
dreaming, scheming.

I am myth, math and metaphor,
the alchemy of time and
consciousness.

I am movement as a state
of mind: MAASOM.

I am a creative Self in
an ever-present Now.
Amanda, captured by the performance, comes out of her trance and says "Brilliant! Esplendido! Magnifico!"







2.

Jack appreciates this reaction.

He says:

"Want some more...? Some more free-form poesy, out-of-my-head rambles and recollections...?"

"I sure do", Amanda says. "Improvisational engravings upon the ether, shapely shapings out of the shapeless."

"OK then", Jack says.

He takes a deep breath, then he says "Om namo Narâyanâya" four times. Then he starts his improv session by saying:

"Woman doesn't have a soul, she is a soul, partaking in the archetype of Is-is."

"What?" says Amanda. "Aren't we women having a soul?"

"You're more than having a soul: you are a soul. Woman as intuitive superstar, 'women are never young, they are born a thousand years old' and all that."

"Oh I see... I am a soul... fantastic, you've turned my life around... I see things differently now... because my whole being is divine."

"You women indeed have that potential. Universe is female, space is round. The primordial silence was female. Nuit, Night. Then came will and reason uniting, and thereby God come to be, a more masculine energy it was."

"Brilliant", Amanda says. "Well what comes next in your deathelss improv jam session...?"

Jack looks into the sky for inspiration, seeing rotating galaxies, planets galore, and stars falling, and this gives him the impetus to following line:

"I am that I am in action here, now and forever."

And next he says this, away in an inspirational trance...

There is no choice between action and inaction -- we all have to act, like breathing to keep our body alive. We are all performing the Actionist doctrine.

Join me in the light.

Go with power.

Musicians don't dance.

The spirit of song is war.

Join me in the power.

Meditation mobilizes your inner forces.

As we are, so we see.

From out of the formless I create forms.








3.

Done with his declamation Jack grins like the feline being he is, born in the sign of Leo, with golden hair combed back, staying in place thanks to Dr. Dralle's Birkenwasser.

He drinks some wine -- hyaline green in color, in taste sweet with a faintly bitter aftertaste, reminiscent of jasmine.

Amanda, having heard the improv poetry, says:

"You're the king of swing of Linköping. Only you have the power to heal and reveal, to remedy this culture of stagnation. You are that warm wimd, melting the glacier of nihilism shaping everything right now."

"Thank you my dear", Jack says. "Things look grim, the world is rather worse for wear -- but -- with divine help, and with you by my side, things seem brighter. You're God-sent."

"And so are you" she says.

"We both live under divine influxus", the man says. "God on top of the triangle, and we, you and I, forming its base."

"À la bonheure!" Amanda exclaimes and raises her glass; Jack raised his and together they salute the glory of the moment.
Maybe they're right, maybe you are an axeldosy,
intent on fnasking the fnurg at every turn.
Going to a show, feeling divine, feeling feline, feeling fine...








4.

As you might have understood Jack Steelnack is the hero of this piece.

He lives in a palace, a bungalow, a high-end villa in the best part of Dharma Town.

He is a willful man. A strong man. A superman. A god.

He is the king of the heap. And he lets everyone know it.

To illustrate this, hereby his vocabulary in putting everyone else down:
Dolt, blockhead, dunce, simpleton, dimwit, dimlight, village oaf... dope, moron, hammerhead, dork, thicko, fatso, fat boy slim, tubby, chub-tub, obeast... naysayer, Worker Worrier, defeatist, loser... dud, drone, Banzai Washout...

More: microcephal, schmuck, clod, prat, imbecile... lightweight, ignoramus, jackass... goof, cretin, ignorant. Average, plain.
He is a superman, a man plus. An overman. He sings:
I am strong, where I belong; am I not superman?
I am god, worshipping God; am I not superman?
Thus proclaims Jack Steelnack.







5.

Our hero is Jack Steelnack. He is also known as “the Steeler” and “superman in a sidecap”.

That’s some of the nicknames he goes by.

He drives around town in his red coupé. He's standing in his mansion looking out over the urban vistas.

We know him that much.

But –- for a deeper probing of him and his worldview, hereby an interview with this living legend. It was done by a reporter for Dharma Town News. The reporter's name was Bulwer Nitton, a portly man wearing a fedora, a corduroy jacket, khaki pants, and engineering boots, well polished, not ragged and dusty like James Dean wears his in Rebel Without a Cause.

+++

Nitton's intro to his article. -- We’ve had the honor of interviewing Jack Steelnack, superman of the new age and an unforgettable player with his Steely ideology. The text will be reproduced below in Q/A form; needless to say, “Q” means our question, “A” means Mr. Steelnack’s answer.

Q: Starting at the beginning, at the nexus of all realities, I’d say: what’s your opinion of God?

A: I worship God. I live with his light before my eyes.

Q: You do?

A: Yes. God is within me, before me... He’s always there. You could say: from his Unfathomable Being a light shines forth, illuminating my mind. Giving me a path to follow.

Q: So faith in God is a centerpiece of your creed?

A: It is. My creed is called Steelism. It shimmers like blue steel in the night -- a hard creed -- a rigorous creed. Fight, strive... life is about being active, conducting operations. Action brings knowledge; conversely, to just sit and think doesn’t lead to true understanding. Contemplation must be balanced by action.

Q: Then Steelism, to me, seems like a hard creed, a creed for the active man... but there’s faith in God in it, too...? A: There is. Walking this hard road you can always draw strength from the Source, from God.

Q: Would you label yourself a shaman?

A: I would. A kind of magician, an alchemist; an active idealist, a fighter for truth.

Q: Fight to the death, eh...?

A: Fight for the fight itself. Keep always on the move. Never stop the action...

Q: Who are the worst enemies of the Western world?

A: Defeatism. Dejection. Weakness of will.

Q: You speak of will. Is will-worship compatible to God-worship?

A: It is. Will is always pure. It is desire we must avoid. Desire is materialistic. Will is spiritual.

Q: So Steelism is a kind of voluntarist theism?

A: Put academically – yes.

Q: Describe yourself in one sentence.

A: I walk around town with a body language that says, “I’m the man”...

Q: Really...?

A: Really.

Q: OK.

A: I’m the king of it all, that’s just it. The king of swing of Enköping. I envision grandeur, striving, man’s going off to create an empire among the stars. Like terraforming and colonizing Mars.

Q: Space is the place...!

A: It is; a unique endeavor for white man, Faustian man.

Q: I see. Now, further... you speak about Will-Thought, you speak about willpower and vision. However, others have done that before you.

A: Name one.

Q: OK, I can’t expressly do that.

A: Ha-ha. But I do admit that I have forebears in the rigorist realm. I stand on the shoulders of giants. Like Jünger.

Q: They call you superman.

A: And I am. With willpower and vision I shape reality. The fabric of reality obeys the will of a dedicated man.

Q: Indeed.

A: Indeed. I’m a myth, not a man; I’m spirit, not matter. I walk the hard road, not the soft and easy road.

Q: You’re superman, then... a virtual god...!

A: I am. “Have no fear, ‘cos Jack is here...”







6.

Jack Steelnack’s doctrine has now been presented to you, straight from the horse’s mouth. And that will serve us as a kind of introduction to this latter-day superman.

But there’s more... a lot more.

We’ll have to change the angle in trying to capture this strange man and his thought.

So how about a prose-poetic painting style...?

Like this...

The camera is soaring over the landscape, low-flying over Dharma Town’s cityscape, heading into a street canyon, seeing buildings passing it by, street traffic -- and slowly coming to a halt before Steelnack House, a colorful one-story building with a protruding wing on one side and a portico flanked by pillars and bronze plaques.

There he stands, Jack Steelnack, before his mansion -- an exclamation mark in the architecture, a union of time and space, past and present, history and future.

That’s him alright: that’s the Absolute Man, Total Man, Magician Man -- Sonnenmensch Divya -- the mindful superman -- the responsible man.

He’s simply the man. He’s simply Actionism embodied, Actionism personified, Actionism summarized in a human gestalt.

+++

Gestation period over -- now he’s here amongst us, revealed like a divinity, a superman, overman, man plus.

+++

One man, against the universe. A single gestalt symbolizing the Man to Come. A king, priest, and prophet in one. "I am the great god, the eternal king"...

There he stands like a high priest, conducting a ceremony -- a high priest, high on life -- a priest inaugurating the New Age.

+++

Absolute Man... Total Man... Magician Man.

+++

You might wonder, “What occupation has he, this indescribable Mr. Steelnack? He must be something extra, something exclusive, like an artist...”

Then we say: in the beginning of this story we showed to you that he's a poet and a preacher.

Above and beyond that, he himself is the artwork. His whole life is a stage of his I-me-mine antics.

He is form and content in one. What you see is what you get. He writes the way he looks. He looks the way he writes.

+++

He stands before his house, alone, creating the gestalt of a superman icon.

As a divine avatar he is a single god. But he also has his female dual, Amanda.

He stands alone in front of his house just as he meditates, sings, prophesies alone. But he can also preach before a crowd. And carouse with his paramour.

+++

Jack Steelnack is a living work of art. By merely living, talking, doing stuff he exudes divine power; he gives us “that old razzle-dazzle”, by merely going about his business in Dharma Town.

He is god. He is superman. He is victory... victory... victory.

He lives in a palace with infinite hallways, infinite tresures, infinite opulence.

He is superman -- overman -- man plus.

He talks to the animals, it’s incredible...

He has a female dual, like any god. Every god has his goddess, and Jack's dual is Amanda Impala, a superwoman for a superman. He adores her, she adores him... and the gods made love...

+++

He is art, he is myth, he is fairy tale come real.

And you, you who need problems, maladies, everyday nagging for a text to be relatable, I can only say: O ye of little faith.

You have no place in this -- just go, and let us be done with you -- you “Debbie Downers” and all like you: dolts and blockheads, naysayers and dimwits; all you nihilists, pessimists, and atheists, the golden triad of sophism.

This just ain’t for you. Jack Steelnack has got nothing to say to you.

He is fire and movement, ideas and inspiration. He is energy personified.

+++

Jack Steelnack is Actionism. Actionist No 1. Actionist paragon. Energist aestheticist. His life is his art and his art is his life. He just can’t avoid being artistic. Just take a look at his palace, just marvel at the wonders inside... of the gallery and the grand hall and the oratorium and the bathorium and the libratorium... with books of wonder for an age of wonder.

+++

Absolute Man... Total Man... Magician Man.
Moving in circles around you...
Processing data at lightning speed...
And sometimes he just sits there, observing you...
He doesn’t seek happiness, he has it already. In his ever-ongoing meditation, he embraces action, inaction, bliss, quietude, happiness. He is Movement As State, Action As Being.

+++

When he’s upset he takes a deep breath and says, “I AM”.

When he’s feeling low and dejected, he takes a deep breath and says, “I AM”.

So you see, whether he’s up or down he just meditates for a while, ending up in equilibrium: that’s samatva, that’s apateia, that’s superman equanimity through thick and thin.







7.

Now back to the scene of the beginning, with Jack and Amanda carousing in the bower. Done with this session they go inside the house and prepare for a ride downtown. Jack is going to give a speech.

Going in the red coupé they cruise into town, with Jack driving, Jack in charge, with visions of grandeur in his head -- of hubris and megalomania, egomania, monomania.

They go downtown in his fancy car, a chariot of the gods.

He sings,
If you’ve got a car, a trailer or a jeep,
Mercury Cougar, make sure it ain’t cheap,
Chevy Corvette, Metropolitan Met,
a Dodge or a Fudge –
then baby I can drive your car... I can drive your car...
And Amanda smiles at this spontaneous expression of musical artistry.

Jack drives downtown in his bronze-shimmering coupe, controlling it perfectly, reading the instruments: speed, 60 km/h, time, 1.30 PM, exterior temperature, 16 centigrade...

He eventually finds a spot to park the car in. Then the pair goes away through the urban labyrinth. And they enter a marble house and interact with people. Then Jack takes leave of Amanda and alone goes out unto a balcony and delivers a speech, saying, “I am the savior of the human race, bringing endless grace”...

Standing ovation from the crowd...

He waits for the commotion to die down. Then he continues:

"O all ye citizens of Dharma Town, ye married moms, soccer moms, divorced moms, queen-of-proms -- ye sf fans, fantasy fans, weird horror fans, crime fans, fans-n-slans -- ye altrighers and allrighters -- ye Nietzscheans and Switzerlands... all ye creatures great and small... I love you all, and I bless you all."

This he says.

And this he means: he is Total Man, Divine Man, he blesses us... rightly so... this is no mere show, no theatrical release... for in his being he has THE LIGHT... in him is engrained the I AM wisdom... thus, at the same time he is the most egoistic, and most pious person thinkable... he is God’s Stellvertreter on earth... God’s locum tenens.

He acknowledges God... and he, Mr. Steelnack, is a smaller numen under him...

God is God... and Jack is god, lower case g...

That’s the god and superman he is... he is god, worshipping God...

That’s the mindful superman in nuce.

+++

Jack continues his speech, and he says, “I will give you the stars. I will liberate you, and then show you the way to Mars... and then the stars.”

“I’m seeing the stars, like dust... I travel to Mars, if I must...”

Apprehensive silence from the crowd.

“First we crush antiwhiteism, then we’ll head for the stars... that’s the program... that’s my unique message... no one else on the whole planet says this... therefore, follow me... listen to my message... my basic message... which is... today the world, tomorrow the stars...”

“An unequalled renaissance will come... we shall raise the world from its lethargy."

+++

Thus proclaims Jack Steelnack.

Thus says the man who is Total Man... Absolute Man... Magician Man --

who is Astral Man... god-man... superman --

who is Sonnenmensch... overman... man plus.







8.

Now the reader might ask: where does this Steelnack fellow live? “Dharma Town” we've said says but that’s just the mythical framework, real enough, but what about the world he lives in? What can be said about the world of Jack Steelnack, the culture at large?

To this we say: he lives in the grey area. He lives in a ghost world. He lives in uncanny land, spectral land.

That's the epoch he lives in, as such, part of the fifth post-Atlantic era.

In other words, he lives in an era of advanced technology, a world of cars, of plans of going to Mars; that much is obvious; we’ve mentioned these things above. To this we can add: the dominating feature of the zeitgeist is that God is dead. That is the majority view. There is no God, no soul, no eternal ideas. No tradition, no history; what is called “history” and “tradition” are deemed irrelevant. The only thing worth pursuing in life is material goals, a “high standard of living”. “Modern conveniences – mod cons – all mod cons...!”

Now, as a private person Steelnack lives in a modern house; he has electricity and central heating. He’s not heading back to archaic living. But beyond that he disagrees with the zeitgeist. Like him stating that God does exist.

To him God isn’t dead.

As we said above: he is a superman, a “god”, worshipping God.

And this he does in Ghost World, Uncanny Land, Spectral Land. In a city called Dharma Town.

+++

He lives in Ghost World.

It is a land with no love, no truth, no meaningful language. A world with no common Leitkultur, no consensus. All is irony, subculture, parody, pastiche.

Ghost World, strange world, grey area...

It is a world without faith, without a creed. The official creed of materialism, for its part, is an anti-creed, a glorified absence of a doctrine.

Steelnack has no illusions. In his town, Dharma Town, he might get around, preach, and having his audience acknowledging his ideas -- but in the world at large there is no room for rumba -- there is no spiritual culture, no consensus about the need for re-sacralization, re-enchantment of an entzauberte world.

The world used to be magical. Gods dined with men, gods interceded for men, gods communicated with men. Then man decided that he was smarter than the gods, cut off the connection to higher realms, and said that matter is all that exists.

So to remedy this we need re-sacralization, re-enchantment.

And then you say, you can’t re-enchant a disenchanted world -- no Wiederverzauberung for an entzauberte world.

Well you might say that. But Jack Steelnack won’t -- because he believes in re-enchantment, re-sacralization, Wiederverzauberung.

It is about the succession of yugas. As one of the few men alive Jack Steelnack knows that we now live in Dvâpara Yuga, successor of Kali Yuga. Kali Yuga was the age of iron -- a time of wars, of slaying your brother. In Kali Yuga a general disenchantment existed -- but now, in this new era, Dvâpara Yuga, the spiritual bronze age, things can change.

It isn’t a silver or even a golden age They will come later.

But things have changed, re-sacralization is possible now -- and Steelnack is one of the first to notice it, sense it, feel the change in the earth and the wind and the rain.

Steelnack says:

“We live in an age of transition, a ghost world and a strange world, a glorified grey area. A time of doubt, confusion, irony, worldplay -- but it won’t last -- it will dovetail into a new time of faith, a new awakening, a new era of religious dedication -- of enchantment, of rebirth of truly creative powers.

"And divine influxus is the key to it all. You can’t have a culture without God. And that’s why my fundament is divine faith, divine reliance, divine influence.”







Coda Adoration of the adorable. A monolithic idolatry, a 100% enthusiasm for the hero –- the artist, genius and hero, all in one and one in all. A unified field of priestly, heroic and artistic attitudes.

Le voilà: enthusiasm and love, ideas and inspiration, fire and movement. That’s all there is...!

Where is the love...? -- Jack Steelnack is here to show you where.

Watcher, what of the night...? -- Jack Steelnack is the wathcher of the world, here to tell you of the night, yea, both night and day. Of both M. Night Shyamalan and Doris Day.















Related
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tisdag 8 september 2026

Dagbok 08/09 2026

Idag är det tisdag.








Katten har fått mat.

Sommaren är över.

Välfärdsstaten är över.

Och inte bara det. Förtrycksregimen är över; dess illusioner är uttömda. Och då "flyter det bara pumparna" ett tag tills skutan går under.

+++

Härmed två böcker jag nyss försökte mig på, men inte läste ut.

En studie i rött (1897, A Study in Scarlet). Den första Sherlock Holmes-berättelsen. Allt började bra, Holmes som detektivisk übermensch var roande. Sedan, på cirka sidan 35, tappade jag intresset. Detta är bara en platt mordhistoria, tänkte jag.

Mer mystik och fantasi förväntade jag mig av Morgonstjärnan (1910, Morning Star) av H. Rider Haggard. En roman utspelande sig i Egypten 1200 fvt. Den har allt, utom stil. Kort sagt, detta är en litterärt likstel uppvisning, och då hjälper det inte att man har hela Egyptens rikedomar i bagaget.

+++

Jag försökte alltså läsa två britter. Och misslyckades. Men en tredje roade mig.

Det gäller Humphrey Carpenters Tolkienbiografi (JRR Tolkien -- A Biography, 1977, finns även på svenska). Den har jag nu läst två, möjligen tre gånger. Och i den sägs mycket. Bland annat om Sagan om ringens reception.

När första delen av ringtrilogin kom ut 1954 (säger Carpenter) var recensenterna uppdelade i två läger: antingen prisade man verket (CS Lewis, WH Auden) eller så var man tämligen avvisande. Något däremellan fanns inte.

Lewis satte den positiva trenden genom att i Time and Tide i augusti hylla verket som ett heroiskt epos i en antiheroisk tid; detta är i klass med Homeros...! Detta var en överdrift. Verket var, i den form det mötte läsarna, avsett att gå hem på 1954 års bokmarknad och inte att göra något djupare statement. Tolkien må själv ha trott sig vara en mytskapare för evig tid men hans verk är på sin höjd en fascinerande pseudo-arkaisk berättelse med staffagefigurer. Att kartan och myten stämmer, alltså utomlitterära faktorer, är här viktigare än stil och litterär verkshöjd.

Men överdrifter åt andra hållet fanns också i receptionen. I The Observer sa Edwin Muir att han ogillade verkets svart-vita moral, han saknade sådant som ”en Djävul som är både ond och tragisk”... Men detta är en orimlig begäran; bara för att man skriver en mytisk berättelse kan man inte kräva att den ska överträffa all tidigare myt. Andra recensenter klagade på den banala stilen; i och för sig rätt, Tolkien har i regel en platt prosastil, men i den genre det gäller är utomlitterära krav som mytisk relevans och konkordans viktigare än, som antytt, notervärd stilbriljans. En Agatha Christie eller en Conan Doyle måste för en kriminalgåta skapa en intrig som är rimlig och invändningsfri, det är grundkravet; stil kommer i andra hand.

En intressant kritik kom från JW Lambert i Sunday Times: ”Ingen som helst religiös anda och praktiskt taget inga kvinnor.” Men detta är också irrelevant; han bedömde verket utifrån ”den odödliga klassikerns” kriterier, inte från det marknadsanpassade genreverkets. På samma sätt är ju sådant som Sherlock Holmes-berättelserna också renons på religiös känsla och minnesvärda kvinnoporträtt.

Sagan om ringen alstrade alltså reaktioner som pendlade mellan lovsång och nedsabling. Ingen träffade riktigt essensen i verket ifråga.

Vad var då Ringen?

Vad verket var, var framför allt detta: en uppgradering av fantasygenren, av William Morris’ och Dunsany’s fantasistil, och av exotiska äventyrsberättelser à la Rider Haggard, alltså av redan etablerade litteraturformer. Ofta var Tolkien litterärt lika god som dessa. Stilen är ”bra nog” för att bedömas som genreförankrad klassiker. Men generellt slog han sina föregångare med den mytiska konstruktionen, omsorgen om detaljer i bakgrundsmålningen. Inte alla recensenter insåg det 1954.

+++
Jag är en biologisk automat, jag är smart --
jag är en biomat, jag är klimatsmart.

Och desto mer kör jag runt i min go-kart --
det går så snabbt, det går med en väldig fart --
och Marabou tillverkar ej längre Start --
nu är det Lantmännen som ger svenska folket Start
rätt och slätt varje dag, upp och ner, hit och dit...
+++

Jag undrar ibland: sedan Roland Cedermark avled 2020, vem är Sveriges dragspelskung? Kanske tronen rentav är ledig?







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