the struldbrugs are immortal beings, or near immortal, as i remember – they live on an island once visited by gulliver – they’re a race "cursed" with immortality, living long past any sensible limit, growing more and more decrepit in both mind and body, wishing for their misery to end - i guess it was swift's way of, stating, something
those are the shitty years, denis leary said – but anything would be preferable to death, wouldn't it? therin lies the reactionary posture, the necessity for believing in the void
but you wouldn't attempt to string out a beethoven symphony as long as possible would you? water it down to nothing to make it last as long as possible? you wouldn't pad it with mediocre beethoven for longevity, you'd be happy to have heard a great symphony, and accept that it was over - it was as long as it needed to be, right? a well written symphony, not a note too many or too few
but, what if you were never ever ever going to hear any music again, for eternity? then might you string out medicore beethoven? that's the more crucial question, in this context
and plus, most of our lives aren't beethoven symphonies, some of them are too full of crap, or cut short abruptly, as least that's how it seems to me - so why not rage against the dying of the light?
"and accept that it was over..." (and go home) - well, when you extend the metaphor like that it doesn't sound so bad - what is home? where i was before i was born? a realm of spirit? but that's manichean, right?
what i mean by the title is that the idea of this being necessary, for intellectual logic, or emotional logic, or whatever... is sort of dreadful, aweful, uh, et cetera... nevermand