I have become a fly in the marketplace. I buzz and irritate my fellow men and women. Capitalism has done this to me — entrapped me in the public domain, away from my solitude. Now I fly and buzz with the others, content with a lack of desire and inspiration, poised to interact in the marketplace, consume, procreate. I spread the disease of mediocrity and uniformity as an instrument of the capitalist machine.
From Nietzsche’s Zarathustra:
Flee, my friend, into your solitude! I see you defeated with the noise of the great men and pricked by the strings of the little men.
Forest and rock know well how to be silent with you. Be like the tree again, the wide-branching tree that you love — silently and attentively it hangs out over the sea.
Where solitude ends, there the marketplace begins; and where the marketplace begins, there begins also the noise of the great actors and the buzzing of poisonous flies.
Even the best things in the world are worthless without those who first present them. People call these presenters great men.
The people have little comprehension of greatness, that is to say: creativeness. But they have a taste for all presenters and actors of great things.
The world revolves around the inventors of new values; invisibly it revolves. But around the actors revolve the people and fame; so the world goes.
The actor has spirit but little conscience of the spirit. He always believes in that with which he most powerfully produces belief — produces belief in himself!
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