Imagine this: you wake up one day, and realize you are in an insane asylum. Shortly, you put it together that you’ve been here all your life. There are several reasons why it had been difficult to recognize your situation: The inmates and the staff in this asylum dress and act alike, and it is not a trivial matter to discern each from the other. Though circumlocutory talk of “escaping” the asylum is among the inmates’ favorite pastimes, very few walk out, which is remarkable, considering the grounds are only nominally secured. In fact, only staff are not permitted to leave, which does not seem to bother them. A further oddity is that inmates and staff alike tend to talk of the asylum as if its construction were the definitive achievement of humanity.
This is a tired metaphor. I’ve put it to use in part because I myself am a bit tired. (And, truth be told, I disdain readers who get fussy if the metaphors they’re presented with aren’t “fresh” — by which they of course mean titillating.) For the other part, I’ve put it to use because it’s apt. Providing context and such, nice gentle spiral ramps of words … these are superfluous in an asylum. Freed from the Sisyphean task of translating myself into the carpet-munching vernacular, I hope I’ll feel inclined to post more often. That is all.
It isn’t easy being the only kid on the block who thinks what is widely recognized to be a useful and legitimate collection of individuals is actually the exact opposite.
Insane? It’s perhaps fitting for some of them. The rest I’m more inclined to call hopelessly attached to their security blankets.