are always making fun of others’ naivete. But the older I get the more I realize that it is the most cynical that are the most naive: they actually believe that they can outrun the existential crisis simply by employing massive amounts of reflexivity, by sneeringly feigning nonchalance, or by mobilizing an army of would-be judges.
They (and I myself am guilty of this) are so naive (mistakenly taking it for cynicism) as to suggest that the denial of the object and the absence of the object are one and the same. So long as you can maintain the illusion, of course, they are…
But we are all mortal. And at that point the cynically hip American collapses into tragically wasted irrelevance. We Americans think we can gain eternal life by sheer force of bitter will. When we fail, we find ourselves in those last moments (of course) alone with our bitterness.
That is my “life-project” right now. I am trying to ascend out of that fog and confront the nadir of being, not as some kind of rejected anti-hero, but as what it is: the end. I am hoping in this process to find… hope.
The long and short upshot is that I don’t want to be intentionally antisocial or deeply nihilistic anymore. I want what “they” have: simple pleasure in life, while we’re here. It’s not hedonistic or narcicisstic because I want it to be directed outward. The most ethical position is not well-reasoned or even well-stated at all. It is not even conceived, as to try to conceive it is to sully it. The most ethical position is one of pleasant participant, gentle contributor, smiling person.
Enough venom and enough self-destruction already. Let’s just smile at the clouds.