At first this was an academic study. I wrote about silences and nights. I expressed the inexpressible. I defined vertigoes.

Arthur Rimbaud

The study of philosophy should also be the study of the pleasure of love. In these writings the object of philosophy's gaze is the soul-snatching appearance of transcendence in the form of a boy. This is Platonism. Eros is Pteros. The classical world is once again at hand in these writings that are a completion of twentieth century ontological realism. That is to say, they are a violation of almost every principle from which that philosophy hoped to proceed. Nonetheless, the historical truth of realism is here, as it must be; nothing has been lost; the hope itself is not without force. Universals, logical connectors, bare particulars, the tying nexus, ephemeral fact, all give way again to the Eternal Forms and the Logos and the Madness. The Cupbearer intoxicates with his beauty and Beauty itself is revealed. Nothing has changed. The dialectic will always turn your glance onto another way. The mind analyzes itself vividly.

Philosophers handling God must handle perfection, the final orgasmic point of the coming together of all the pieces in the ontological juggernaut and the strewn images. It's too much for the eternal foreplay of the scientifically minded. Anyway, this kind of sex in the classroom, teachers and students in quiet orgies, is downright illegal.

It is well known and commonly said that philosophy is a great screw-up. So be it. Come with me. Let us make it a carnival, a sacrificial slaughtering, an ecstatic bewilderment such as you would certainly feel if that boy invited you, alone, to his room. The morning may never come. The night should be sweet.

It's your choice – philosophy can be either a frightening thing you are not authorized to do because you don't have the scholastic papers or it can be what you already know, a lovely romance out into the nowhere of the brilliant intellectual night. Is it the work of devils or the cheek of a youthful god? He calls. You are already half seduced.

This is a religious writing and nothing else. I write of a god and the gods and the thinking that accompanies that. Thus it is philosophical as philosophy has always followed on religion, as philosophy has been of the very substance of religion, as it has been the thinking of the gods. I am entangled in the logos of Being.

These pages, each one related to the others only through the one Form that informs them all, are here laid out more or less in the order in which they were written over the last twenty odd years. They are my attempt to write the limits of ontological analysis and beyond. I have combined the mathematical and the erotic as did Plato. This is realism, thus I am passive in thought and word and being to That. To master the passive act is often to wander in vertigo. I have been obedient.