Humanities

Without postgraduates, the unis will grow increasingly old. Increasingly crabbed. Twisted. Gnarled, even.

The senescent uni. The twilight of the uni – that’s what we’re left with. The midnight of the uni. It’s going down, further down, and very far down …

Maybe interesting things will happen, in the final hours of the uni. Dark things will creep out of the darkness. Slither from their hiding places. Maybe there’ll be some carnival of decay. Some monsters’ ball. Some sick lollapalooza. Out will come the freaks.

But of course, we’re the freaks …


Like a crash. Like a plane has crashed here. Like philosophy crashed. Like the humanities crashed. And everything strewn everywhere.


Something collided with something. The humanities collided with reality.


We understand the humanities. Our plight is linked to that of the humanities. We are what in the humanities is entirely useless – in this world. Entirely pointless – in this world.

You are the humanities, Livia used to insist, despite our protests.