Still we go on pretending

[j4]

Further thoughts, following on from the previous post:

The human condition could, perhaps, be summed up with one phrase: they all die in the end. It's about knowing that it ends, knowing how it ends, and being forced to watch it anyway; no, not even being allowed to merely watch it, but being forced to take centre stage, untutored in acting, unsure of our lines, without a prompt or props, improvising for our lives with little hope of a good reception from a largely indifferent audience.

Given this, I can't decide whether providing spoiler warnings for Beckett's plays is a deliciously dark irony, or simply bloody stupid.

Or whether it matters.

Comments

[rysmiel.livejournal.com]

A very well-put description of a way of looking at the world that, if it were true [ and to my mind it's functionally undecidable from the context of being stuck within it ] would still not really be relevant. I can connect to Beckett as ways of looking at the world, but not on the same scale as things I care about; if there's no objective meaning, then there's no objective failure, and meaning and success both are things to choose to define within the context. Which ultimately I'm doing because I like the world better when the bits of it that are under my influence and the things I do have the capacity to effect work that way. I'm not minded to defend how I live against modernist malaise, philosophically, nor do I feel it that much emotionally, I think because it would feel like trying to defend the concept of "number" against a Mongol horde, they just don't interact for me.