Musings

The child and his light

I write now, long after the song of minstrels has been forgotten. I write now, long after the ink of poets has gone dry. I write...

Philosophy is dead, and we have killed it

The divine is dead; men saw to its execution. They replaced the moral teachings of Christianity with a void of potential, and in doing so precipitated the most disastrous display of human savagery the world had ever seen.

A beginning, sprinkled with a healthy dose of existential dread

Even now, after all these years, I guess I’m still trying to find the words. It’s not easy getting around this… existential dread. Even now, I’m not entirely sure how it all works. But I think, or rather I hope, that when life prevails outside the bounds of our unremarkable day-to-day struggle to get by, you begin to see it.

About Blog

Welcome, stranger!
In this blog you'll find anything from random musings on a bleak Monday morning to notes on art, life, philosophy, and whatever that conceivably made a whit of sense upon a second thought.

About me

ONCE UPON A TIME, in a place forgotten even by the bearer of its memory, a boy lived a life of mundane everydayness, until an accident made him realize that he could tap into the imaginative wellspring of his mind to make things up. Since that day, he's had trouble giving up the practice, beguiled by the addictive infinitude of everything he could put into words. And if you're here, you know that he's engaging in the whimsical rote to this day.