Intellectual Disdain; Intimidation

Modern society is in certain respects extremely permissive. In matters that are irrelevant to the functioning of the system we can generally do what we please. […] We can do anything we like as long as it is UNIMPORTANT. But in all IMPORTANT matters the system tends increasingly to regulate our behavior.

I started reading an abstract book and while it had some great ideas so it went on a moralistic tangent toward the end of a chapter, concretely defining “evil” and thou shalt never!

It bummed me out because now I have to deal with wondering whether I can divorce the interesting parts of the book with this complete transgression toward morality. The whole reason I read is to avoid moralistic tangents. We are all preached at enough; I’m ashamed whenever I preach myself. I can’t endure much longer.

So while I was trying my best to weigh in those typical prescriptions — that is, one can be an expert in some parts but less an expert in others, lend some grace — or, once again, one could doubt their own dispositions. Am I wrong to see the world without morals? Is it wrong that I see good and evil as the same coin? Relative, of the lion with the gazelle and the hyenas to circle?

While I battered around more I started to feel a gurgling shameful antagonism. That as I flipped through the book, what once seemed like interesting ideas now seemed like another venus fly trap to get caught in. Another thing which lost meaning, lost importance to me. The moral tangent to gut punch and awaken how this is all truly a thought experiment. An especially useless one.

I began to doubt the reasons I read anything at all. Why am I not working? Is this all a waste of time? It must be, if the chief aim is to enjoy time passing, and yet here I was sparring with my growing intolerance toward another wielding their fluffy version of Morality to assert Reality over me and other affronts. Other belligerent cousins, whether politics or unrealistic ideals in the face of consistent sacrifice.

I kneel toward the fiction writers. I kneel wholeheartedly. For at least in fiction one can explore interesting ideas without ransacking history, without imposing (much) moralistic lens into things. One could suppose the fiction writers are so disinterested in reality because it is filled with these sweeping statements of nothing. Mostly, hopefully — let’s avert our gaze from the revisionists. My whole blog is nothing but sweeping statements of nothing, mostly.