The Optimist, The Pessimist and the Realist
There are a lot of things that I write about that I don’t really spend much time talking about, and that’s fine. That’s the writer’s work, and of all the wonder I have had opportunity to experience in this life, ordering my thoughts and filling a blank page is one miracle I could not be me without. There are some things I mean to write about, and might even talk about a bit, that I have yet to take the time to write about.
When “The Screen, The Wax and The Water” turned up in my inbox a few blog posts ago, I was delighted. I had thought up the idea years back, remembered it, but didn’t recall having written it. It made me think of another idea I don’t think I ever wrote about, though it will inevitably end up in one of my books. Questions concerning perspective have always fascinated me.
This week I am hijacking my own blog and taking it where I feel like taking it. This is an old idea, and probably not one that is unique to my point of view despite my arriving at this conclusive train of logical thought on my own. That’s one of the wonderfully frustrating aspects of philosophy: if it makes sense, surely someone has thought of it. The philosopher’s job is not to present the truth as their own idea, but to offer a version of an eternal idea either stripped of dressings that have made other descriptions either vague or inauthentic; or dressed up in a way that makes sense to anyone who wants to make sense of it without crossing the line into personalizing truth.