Some Morbidity


By the time you start to think about death you're at deaths door. Now that was a waste of time, wasn't it?

It takes a lifetime to rationalise death. I'm trying to shorten it to a few decades.

A bit of prose I come up with recently

A predictive toast

In a world of impending totalitarianism and rampant conformity. Here is to dissent.
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It’s to late to blame

It’s to late for vengeance

Not all are meant to see the sunset with greying eyes nor to feel the touch of a lover’s pride.
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Solipsism is a cause of loneliness and alienation.

Dosteovsky said it even better (from Huxley’s Brave New World Revisited)

‘In the end’ they will lay their freedom at our feet and say to us. “Make us your slaves, but feed us.”’ And when Alyosha Karamazov asks his brother, the teller of the story, if the Grand Inquisitor is speaking ironically, Ivan answers: ‘Not a bit of it! He claims it as a merit for himself and his Church that they have vanquished freedom and done so to make men happy.’ Yes to make men happy: For nothing the Inquisitor insists, ‘has ever been more unsupportable for a man or a human society than freedom.’

From Albert Camus' The Fall

You have heard, of course of those tiny fish in the rivers of Brazil that attack the unwary swimmer by the thousands and with swift little nibbles clean him up in a few minutes, leaving only an immaculate skeleton? Well that's what their organization is. Do you want a good clean life? Like everybody else? You say yes, of course. How can one say no. O.K. You'll be cleaned up. Here's a job, a family and organised leisure. And the little teeth attack the flesh, right down to the bone.