Something very striking about technique, art, study, and even personality, is that a pattern of development is often observed, in which there is a slow, more or less regular advance, which drags on for years on end. Then, when a constant seems to be established, a leap occurs and the level reached seems incompatible with the previous process. Taleb’s graphs come to mind. How can we explain why they are so frequent? Continuous effort seems necessary, but it cannot be the explanation in itself. The story, however, repeats itself, and even if it is not understood, it is good to be admired and taken as inspiration.
Category: Notes
Every Good Teenager Reaches Adulthood…
Every good teenager reaches adulthood knowing enough about the elements of group psychology that regulate the bulk of human associations of all kinds. So if, as an adult, he joins a club, he knows from experience what to expect. Some find it very natural, others not so much; but everyone ends up giving in, again and again, to the gregarious instinct that drives them towards association. It is only natural that the excitement wears off, the frustrations accumulate, and one day is discovered the cozy refuge of the self. But there are also a few lucky ones who come across a different kind of association; to them, the fairest thing is to offer sincere congratulations.
If the Drama of the Journalist Who Spends…
If the drama of the journalist who spends his life carrying the frustrated dream of doing literature is legitimized by repetition, it should be noted that, in most cases, this dream is just an idyllic image, like any other, conceived without reflection. The frustrated journalist never reflects on what journalism offers him and what literature can hardly match. First of all, a salary; then recognition and reputation. If we analyze it carefully, these are things without which any journalist could only imagine working in a nightmare. Even the worst journalist receives a salary and enjoys some prestige, has an audience that listens to him and reads him. In a scenario without any of this, would he still make literature? Of course not. So the alleged drama is always more fanciful than real.
Literature, Unable as It Has Become to Be…
Literature, unable as it has become to be a profession, can only generate maladjusted and abnormal types. Because, after all, practicing it is no less than working with no expectation of return, something that nobody consciously does. The writer therefore detaches part of his time from “normal life”, and the greater this part, the more authentically he is a writer, the further he will stray from the norm, the more abnormal he will become. There is no solution. And if the tendency for him to fail in leading an ordinary life is almost unavoidable, at least it has become easier to verify the sincerity of his vocation.