Benjamin aptly describes the bipolar nature of his own intoxicated illumination when he writes that, in "the imagination put in thrall to thinking during hashish intoxication," there are two "different sorts of powers: a genius of melancholy gravity, another of Ariel-like spirituality." Here, first, is an illustration of Benjamin's genius for melancholic heaviness: "In the end, things are merely mannequins, and even the great moments of world history are only costumes beneath which they exchange glaces of complicity with nothingness, with the petty and the banal. Such nihilism is the innermost core of bourgeois coziness -- a mood that in hashish intoxication concentrates to satanic contentment, satanic knowing, satanic calm..." Here, next, an example of his more uplifting, "Ariel-like spirituality": "Versailles, for one who has taken hashish, is not too large, nor eternity too long. Against the background of these immense dimensions of inner experience, of absolute duration and immeasurable space, a wonderful, beatific humor dwells all the more fondly on the contingencies of the world of space and time." In the end, sadly, the darkness seems to have won out over the light in Bejamin's own life, but one wonders whether that fate would have been averted had he not lived through such dark days? Still, Benjamin believed in the revolutionary potential of the experiences he describes in this book to lighten the times, and he came to advocate a "profane illumination" that would be capable of recapturing the transformative insights hashish (and also opium and mescaline) afforded without continually requiring the drugs themselves. Such ideas seem to me to be well worth pondering.
This is wonderful, nostalgia-inducing, provocative collection of Benjamin's waking dreams and wandering reflections.