november 2010
What’s this? A peek behind the iron curtain, or just syntax and fury…?
It’s late and the sun will be up soon/ish and my heart is pounding out of my chest, I can see it beating through my skin even though my nose has been clear for hours now; surely the remnants of cocktail cokefest remain in my system but that was then, this is the now time, and in the now time I’m trying to be better, to be normal and sober and happy, a good sorority girl one might even say; but I was told today that I will no longer be a greek in 24 hours; and so still the trying or the struggle or the “striving through fighting” as the jihadists describe their wars instead only reminds me why and how I descended into your so-called “valley” in the first place, and now I’m at the bottom of that valley and hanging on a precipice therein, a paradox of course but very real for all that. It’s crushing in its pointlessness, its lack of meaning, I the philosopher know all Philosophy is simply literary criticism anyway and, as an uneducated cynic, a fallen churchgoer, a privileged white bastion of unadulterated first-world luck, I have no basis for that criticism, no basis for worldly disgust and conscious self-loathing and near-total disillusionment; yet, here it is, here I stand, I can do no other.
