So politics, huh.
I find myself abusing my backspace key a lot trying to figure out how to say, whatever it is I want to say. It’s not that I don’t know, but nerves are frayed. Rashes appear, and the politics doctor diagnoses so many with the disease.
I have been into politics. I had to. My old careers demanded some attention to the goings on in the world. So I voted, and then waited for the result.
Who did you vote for?
Not going to say that now. It may become clear with my views as I blog, but I’m not going to let politics invade this space. Art in general has become way to socially oriented. Where is the beauty of art? Where did it go?
Bring it back. Please. Sci-fi in particular suffers from this. It’s all about class warfare, social dystopia, rebellions against…something or another.
Where is the sci-fi that is about man pushing beyond that which is man. Where no man has gone? Overcoming the human condition, struggling with deep questions, cosmic, theological, philosophical questions…
I like posing those questions, because I ponder on them all the time. Yes, all the time. My brain is my number one cause for insomnia. So I spread those thoughts, and plant them in my writing.
By the way, if you frowned because I said man, that’s the exact thing I’m talking about the social dystopia. Man means human. Its a homonym for man, as in male of the human species. Man is men and women.
Words. They shouldn’t hurt. But apparently they do for some. I’ve been hurt by things that really hurt and do damage. From steel to invisible things that can kill. So I don’t have time to cry about words.
Cowboy up. Once you do, you will notice an orchard ripe for picking. An orchard of thought trees, each branch leading to a new question, and a new journey of discovery of self, and of man.