The experiments of writing about reading & about life, death & and all things in-between

“Annihilation” a beautiful word, with a meaning totally opposite to its pure oral aesthetic.

There are other beautiful words, I am sure. Taste is subjective, obviously, but I am sure no one will disagree with the word Annihilation, taken purely as spoken, is beautiful. Can you strip away the meaning from a word? This has led me to ponder ... The question broadens, with limitless horizons being open for discussion, in evaluating the reasons behind such beauty in words signifying destruction.

“Obliteration” is another word.

This is totally nonsensical. I wanted to write something interesting, nothing came to mind, so I wrote what I believe was “just” beautiful, but totally meaningless. The task is, if I can keep on writing without making sense, but at the same time keep the reader interested.

Mix words together, intend on saying something without actually doing so, and prolong the process as much as possible, without revealing much. The end would most possibly be a disappointment, but the process most interesting and illuminating, about our search for something original, and exciting. The first thing you notice when you look at a book is the thickness, the amount of pages you have to get through to reach the end. You can always read the end, half way through the book to see how it all pans out. But you rarely do so, because the process of reaching the end is almost always more interesting than the end itself. The anticipation, the assumptions, the predictions, all which formulates in your mind while you are reading is what keeps you wanting to read more, not the actual end.

This can be applied to life, but so can everything if you stretch you mind. So what I intend to say is quite pointless but I will say it anyway, so that even if you think I am being pretentious for the sake of it, I intend to make you keep reading what I have written, and go along with me on this nonsensical journey.

Lets look at Life. That’s always interesting, because that’s one thing, everyone reading this is sure they are in possession of. Life rarely seems to make sense, and we are not entirely sure where it would lead us, other than death. Suicide is like reading the end of the book, halfway though, because you hoped that the end will be more interesting than the process of reaching it.

There is no choice in the matter of life and death. I guess when you think about it, suicide is the most ultimate expression of choice we have. The reason you live through life without actually understanding it, is because for some irrational reason you hope you will acquire some meaning, and that will enlighten you to anticipate the end, or Death. Can death be a beautiful word? This is what you hope. The need to reach the end or anticipate it, might not apply to life, as it does when reading a book, nevertheless its unavoidable. Your eventual death is the only factual state you know you will reach at some point. It’s in our human psyche to negate or fight against our fate, which leads to our common goal as human beings, which is to reach a state of immortality. This asserts the question, “can a book without an end be interesting?”

At this point you might feel some anger and resentment towards me, the writer, for your own decision to read what I have written. Although inconceivable at this juncture, you can’t help but assume there must be some rational explanation. Let me remind you again, that your expectations of any rationality are futile. Knowing this, can I interest you in some more?

I guess. I assume so, because you are still reading. My insecurity regarding my own writing forces, me to explain my intentions, because I feel if you are going to dislike my writing, or me it is through my own making.

Don’t necessary need your approval either, but I need you to be interested.

What makes life interesting? Is it the fact that we are predestined to die, or something else? Can anything be interesting for too long. Think of U2, think of Rolling Stones. Can Radiohead produce another groundbreaking album? Actually can anything in the mainstream ever be interesting. Is popularity interesting? Why does our culture only seem to celebrate popularity and religion as the only legitimate form of reaching immortality? Do we need validation of our life from others to make sense of it? Do we need people to like us to reach heaven?

Do we need to ask all these questions? Would an answer make any difference? Will you believe me either way? Can I interest you in some?

“Celebrity” another word, used often when defining the present state of our interests. Word used in disgust and squinted face when spoken of, by the intelligentsia, “ Quite distasteful state of affairs”. Regular use of the word infers jealousy and envy, although always used as a negative, even by the celebrities themselves. This has if the word, if too closely associated with someone will deem him or her to some lowbrow status, although secretly everyone seeks it. Some people celebrate it just to be ironic. Andy Warhol the enthusiast of anything popular and anything soaking with iconic celebrity status, changed parody into irony and made things all the more confusing for anyone who seek to be fashionably intelligent and cultured.

Being confused is not actually a disagreeable state to be in. State of confusion allows you to ask the right questions, or search for the right answers, which will enable you to find some meaning and comfort in your own existence. A confused man/ or women is en route to enlightenment, but only if you accept the fact you will never know the truth, or the reason for your existence. That begs the question, can you really search for something that you know you will never find, and feel satisfied just with the process of acquiring it. At first it seem pointless. That’s because you are right, it is, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you could, and be satisfied with such a meaningless activity. Is what is meaningless “Art”? Art, of course is pointless, but that doesn’t mean it, doesn’t exist. Actually that’s the sole reason for its existence. What I claim is not bold, its fact.