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the journalistic impulse to bear witness, to explain, to describe, to encounter the Other
is at odds with my more introspective, elitist, and intellectual side. The latter tells me
that life is more bearable to both study and act upon in those rarefied realms
it tells me that i am always more at home in the world of my own ideas
and emotions
I have ceased to be able to be social. I know the game is up
i know it’s a sham
and i know that most of us live our lives according to a few
convenient fictions
of which i have none. how can i be a journalist
when i have withdrawn into myself
and the only thing that i really can offer and share with this world
is a glimpse of what i truly am—the
one that has withdrawn the one for whom everyone is fallen and mediocre
and stupidly unrepentant, blithe and benighted
that is the world that i live in
and there are times when it seems there is no reprieve
for this
is at odds with my more introspective, elitist, and intellectual side. The latter tells me
that life is more bearable to both study and act upon in those rarefied realms
it tells me that i am always more at home in the world of my own ideas
and emotions
I have ceased to be able to be social. I know the game is up
i know it’s a sham
and i know that most of us live our lives according to a few
convenient fictions
of which i have none. how can i be a journalist
when i have withdrawn into myself
and the only thing that i really can offer and share with this world
is a glimpse of what i truly am—the
one that has withdrawn the one for whom everyone is fallen and mediocre
and stupidly unrepentant, blithe and benighted
that is the world that i live in
and there are times when it seems there is no reprieve
for this
