Earlier you asked about my political and intellectual disposition and, mindful of context, I tried to answer honestly. But if you want to play it down to the quick, I suppose my deeper worldview can be reduced to a toxic blend of scientific materialism and deep pessimism. In other words, I allow that reality can be apprehended through reason and experience, but I think the conclusions that follow tend only to affirm our worst suspicions—that, to borrow Thomas Ligotti’s perfect phrase, the universe is not just meaningless, but malignantly useless.
I miss the coffee table covered in beer bottles at 301, and the front porch where our conversations were incantations and our cigarettes were censers before the good spirits that dwelt in that place. I like my new, well furnished, and clean living room, and I am making a kind of peace with my passage into manhood, but God, does the nostalgia just keep getting stronger as the years carry us on? How unbearable that the world should hold such beauty, even in years that hurt me so much while they went by, and that I should ever have to pass out of it. I want to live forever and ever.
You guys, I got a letter today, and letters are so fun. We should all write each other letters. I’m not even kidding. Send me your address.
Shout out to erysimums, pen pal extraordinaire.
In case you missed it.