The darkest degree, in humour, or the “Cult of Private Search”

It takes a little while to become aware of the overwhelming utility of everything, and the inutility of most. I know less now, but know exactly what each thing is for, and what it costs in coin, labor or loss.

I have always found it difficult to believe, in anything. There! I must be the agnostic of everything, unable to believe even in hope and truth. Indeed, I am the doubter, undermining my own possibilities with the vast ferociousness of the night. It could also be said that I have lost faith, if I ever had it. At its best this could be agnostic humanism, at its worst a hall of mirrors. Against these statements, too, I remain stubbornly skeptical.

And therefore the tasks I am set are those of testifying to the presence of truth and certainty. I am witness, not participant, to the possibility of what is, desolate in mythless times.


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