If I opened a facebook page, I would be posting as my cat and treat it purely as social satire. It is far too dangerous to connect yourself forever with stupid shit you might have said when you were drunk or stoned or angry. Unlike the universe, the internet never forgets and never forgives.
And I am far too vainglorious to let any unchallenged position sit idle. I would ruin my good reputation within hours alone. Hour is a fun word. "hora" in Greek. It even shows up in Homer. Hell, descriptions of how to make cheese show up in Homer. I believe Polyphemus adds date-juice to goat's milk. I used to think all this hard work absorbing Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, German, French would come to mean something. I still stand on the precipice of Hittite and Icelandic. I am no closer to enlightenment. No closer to any great glory. My works will go totally unrecognized and then I will die and be buried in a shallow grave. No-one will remember or honor me. It will be as if I had never lived at all, such a collection of cells beautifully constructed into something far greater than the sum of their parts. In a different time, oh god let me tell you, it would have meant something were there far fewer people and the value of life significantly greater--our beautiful noble savages of Homer's time. If Nietzsche's thought experiment of eternal recurrence were to become reality, I could not stand it; total oblivion, absolute dissolution of personhood would be preferable.
That's one of those things. They say that people would long for an afterlife. But what of a person tired of life, tired of working, and tired of constantly suffering? Another life, after this one; are you insane? I hardly got through this one, you lunatic. Do you really think I could suffer another?
That's the point. I was able to speak from the soul and honestly, because with my anonymity, I should not suffer miserable consequences. If people should desire to annihilate my anonymity, I should never desire to speak honestly. Imagine a world in which we're all lying to each other for the sake of propriety. For chrissakes. With a mask, a man may speak honestly and earnestly. Society really is an evil thing, an intimation of an Harrison Bergeron posterity. Really quite evil.
And I am far too vainglorious to let any unchallenged position sit idle. I would ruin my good reputation within hours alone. Hour is a fun word. "hora" in Greek. It even shows up in Homer. Hell, descriptions of how to make cheese show up in Homer. I believe Polyphemus adds date-juice to goat's milk. I used to think all this hard work absorbing Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, German, French would come to mean something. I still stand on the precipice of Hittite and Icelandic. I am no closer to enlightenment. No closer to any great glory. My works will go totally unrecognized and then I will die and be buried in a shallow grave. No-one will remember or honor me. It will be as if I had never lived at all, such a collection of cells beautifully constructed into something far greater than the sum of their parts. In a different time, oh god let me tell you, it would have meant something were there far fewer people and the value of life significantly greater--our beautiful noble savages of Homer's time. If Nietzsche's thought experiment of eternal recurrence were to become reality, I could not stand it; total oblivion, absolute dissolution of personhood would be preferable.
That's one of those things. They say that people would long for an afterlife. But what of a person tired of life, tired of working, and tired of constantly suffering? Another life, after this one; are you insane? I hardly got through this one, you lunatic. Do you really think I could suffer another?
That's the point. I was able to speak from the soul and honestly, because with my anonymity, I should not suffer miserable consequences. If people should desire to annihilate my anonymity, I should never desire to speak honestly. Imagine a world in which we're all lying to each other for the sake of propriety. For chrissakes. With a mask, a man may speak honestly and earnestly. Society really is an evil thing, an intimation of an Harrison Bergeron posterity. Really quite evil.
