Prometheus von Cornsilk (kingnixon) wrote,
Prometheus von Cornsilk

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i just read a fascinating insightful artistic story about unfathomable torture

too much of everything is sad. there are so many beautiful stories out there; why do i read about awful things happening to miserable people? there is rapturous joyous music; why do i listen to depressed people sing about depression?
of course, there is some satisfaction in having something echo your feelings and experiences. if i'm sad i listen to sad music. i don't feel happier, but i feel a little better. who would want to watch a romantic comedy when they are weeping over lost love? and sad art often seems deeper and more meaningful, somehow.
poetics (written, i believe, near the end of highschool)
despair is a farce in writing
sad men with sad thoughts say they are sad
and it is art
happiness is for fools and simpletons
'tis noble to suffer the slings and arrows
to bleed upon the page and choke the reader
and it is art

but imagine if we spent our lives surrounded by beautiful happy things. if sculptures all smiled and every show had a laugh track. probably it wouldn't work for us, but would someone raised in that sort of environment be better off? or would they be an emotional cripple? if they are a happy emotional cripple, what have they lost? some famous person said some famous thing that i forget now, but i will paraphrase it as "it is far better to be a sad man than a content pig". personally, i don't buy this for a second.

in philosophy classes, we have discussed the idea of a happiness machine. basically, it is like the matrix-- you get plugged into a computer and it gives you a splendid fake world for you to splendidly fake live in. or you could stay in the real world and probably spend a lot of time dreadfully badly. would you go with the machine, or real life? most people said real life because just by knowing their life was fake, they would not be able to appreciate it. so what was my answer? i would want to be in the happiness machine, but only if i was put in it without my knowledge. if someone were to break into my room in the middle of the night and plug me in, and i spent the rest of my life in a wonderful computer limbo, i should be very grateful to them.

or maybe this just means i'm a pessimist. instinctually i think i am, but consciously i am an optimist. so i end up spending a lot of my time irrationally convinced things will turn out how i want, but terrified that they won't. such is life.

as a sidenote, i will tell you that, while sometimes it is just idle questions, often when i post my silly pseudo-philosophical whatevers, i am seriously invested in them. these ideas honestly bother me. this is how i think. i won't be satisfied until i have no unanswered questions.

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