Found Out

Your thirties – this is what they’re supposed to be like for the young intellectual, if you don’t cop out and have a family, or something. If you don’t get distracted. II you don’t become alcoholic.

These are your times! PhD behind you, a job, a steady income. A library. Into which you can order books. Optimum conditions. Evenings and weekends free! No caring responsibilities. No children. And somewhere decent enough to live. Somewhere bearable. And you can afford to feed yourself. You’re not on the breadline now. You’re not entirely skint.

See, this is the chance. This is what you’ve been given. Now it can all begin, your intellectual project. Where is it going to lead you? Where will you end up?

How good are you? How smart are you? What’s your true level? Now you’ll see. Now it’ll be revealed: your real intelligence. Your intellectual virtues.

Just you and your talent. Laughter. Just you and your brilliance. Has anyone ever called you brilliant? Has anyone ever looked at your work and exclaimed: brilliant? Or heard you speak and said, almost involuntarily, with in-taken breath: brilliant!

A thinker in potential! A brilliant young person. All we need do is step back to see what happens. To make way. And then … miracles! Did anyone ever say that?

We simply need to set brilliance loose. Give him a research fellowship – at once! Clear all the obstacles! Let him work! Were those words ever used?

Well, you won’t be able to hide now, will you? You can’t hide anymore in your mid-thirties. You’re out in the open in your mid-thirties. You’re going to be found out …