I’ve always liked satirists. It’s the reductio ad absurdum I like.
The days of realism are fading. What is it, anyway, and who’s creating it? Realism is about as alive as a dead dog is to the living one.
There’s no definitive reality. All you have to do is consider the atomic level to see that life is anything but what we are told it is. If anything, it’s a hell of a lot more and the majority of that is still unknown.
So don’t, I say to the realists, point me in the direction of understanding when you are standing on shaky ground, mate. Reality is useful. That’s all.
I am a man before a shifting door with a shifting handle.
Novalis wrote that “every man is potentially a hero and a genius, but inertia keeps him mediocre.”
I know that inertia and want to be rid of it. I know how to shape a sentence, well sometimes, and how to delay a key piece of information, introduce a quirky adjective, hold the necessary verb until last. Fitting in the requisite facts is a professional skill. But giving the whole thing form, elegance, wit, and surprise, that’s an art.
And that’s what I want in my life. To live more abundantly.