Go To Hell, Albert Camus

Goddammit, Al. Really, godfuckingdammit, Al–why did you have to question what for hundreds of years went unquestioned? The sheer absurdity of life. I could have fallen for you at the start, but no, you had to go and unveil your ambivalence about the only absolute motherfucking thing in the world, death. Or, more accurately, the absolution of suicide. It’s perfect, see, it’s in my control the whole way. But then you come along, bringing Husserl, Heidegger, Kierkegaard, and the other heavies to back up your argument.

Well, fuck you.

I was in love with the idea. I saw through it all, just like you. I had my own revolt, against following the rules and abiding by the structure that gives our social fabric it’s heft. And here you stroll, cigarette in one hand, pen in the other, tearing hole right through my intention.

Why couldn’t you leave me alone? It’s my life, and my death, and my art. You can’t change that with words. This is real. Yet somehow you were able to talk me down off the ledge–or mountain, if you want me to be so literal–and here I am, now mired in the muck of what you and I both agreed was sick, tiresome, futile, and absurd.

~ by yearzerowriters on February 12, 2010.

5 Responses to “Go To Hell, Albert Camus”

  1. Can I ditto this exactly to Kierkegaard, jenn. Yeah, there are so many things I’d rather not have known – those damned existentialist pinned my eyes open and made me watch the screen. Half of me hates them the other half says thanks for letting me not live in the dark.
    Dan

  2. Better to have been diabused by a good egg and fine writer than a chancer or a lightweight non?

    marc

  3. That’s telling him.

  4. heh heh, just a little shorty…some things on my mind these days. and yes, i would like to kick him in the shin.

  5. Wow, if Camus could have read this, he would never have said a thing!

    DJ

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