We have in the 21st century a special affection for saying "It is not." It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it is not. In saying that it is not, we need never be wrong, for we have admitted to nothing other than what is not.
I am reminded of a Hemingway story called "A Clean, Well Lighted Place," a study in alienation and despair.
“Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee.”
The words become vacuous, meaningless, collapsing on themselves under the weight of universal denial.
We insist on a supremacy of meaningless noise, a language of babble masquerading as philosophy.
I am reminded of a Hemingway story called "A Clean, Well Lighted Place," a study in alienation and despair.
“Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee.”
The words become vacuous, meaningless, collapsing on themselves under the weight of universal denial.
We insist on a supremacy of meaningless noise, a language of babble masquerading as philosophy.
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