Stupidity, contemplating itself. Stupidity, amusing itself. Laughing at itself. Stupidity, entertaining itself. Stupidity is what we do, right? Stupidity is what holds us together. Stupidity is what we talk about. What we talk from. The twists and turns of our stupidity keep us alive. We were a study, Cicero said.
Is our stupidity sincere? Is our stupidity really a wanting to change? Is our despair an actual prayer? Do we merely wallow in our stupidity, dwell in it, rather than actually want to be transformed?
If we felt, really felt, our stupidity, what then? Might something really happen then? If we experienced, really experienced our despair at our stupidity, might we not be idiots anymore?
Work in Progress 