We’ve seen the void, come on. We know it.
But what does that mean?
That we saw through things, right? We couldn’t participate in the social games. In the academic games. We couldn’t do the small talk. We couldn’t say the right things. We wouldn’t perpetuate the lie. We weren’t taken in. We couldn’t believe in anything, not with our whole hearts. We’ve had to be authentically ourselves. Swearing and shouting and drinking or whatever. And generally disgracing ourselves.
Because our minds were on other things?
Because it’s the only way we could be.
We saw through the lie of the world, Cicero said. We knew that this wasn’t for us. We were like a different species.
All the European professors around Cicero lied to themselves. It’s all a lie: that’s what Cicero told us, when we went to her, forlorn. You see what they do not, she said. You live what they do not.
They raise no objections to anything, Cicero said, of her European professors. But you – your lives are living objections.
They lie, and you do not, Cicero said, of her European professors. You’re drunk because you will not lie.
We were drunk because we would not lie: that’s what we told ourselves. The void would not let up.
The void got us drunk, right? It was the void’s fault …
The void blazed through our drunkenness. Like a black sun.
You make us sound so cool.
The professors around Cicero lied to themselves, that’s what she said. It was all a lie. And our drunkenness was not.
We were drunk because we would not lie – because we cannot bear lies, Cicero said. The void wouldn’t let us. And we were on the side of the void, anyone could see that. The void got us drunk, right?
Work in Progress 