i) Does this make me a pompous girlie-man? j) No.
One day, I heard some Stravinsky and burst into tears. h) I spent four years thinking Green Day made the greatest music in the universe. Who cares about all that bulldash, the haw-hawing in ginsenged dining rooms? g) All you have to do is read, watch, listen. You don’t have to speak eloquently about anything with intellectuals. f) It’s not hard to respect difficult art and escape the self-perpetuating loops of populist cliché. After a decade of unbridled virtual hedonism I crushed Sonic the Hedgehog to death with The Brothers Karamazov. d) How did I escape this declension? e) I learned words like declension. I witnessed first hand the slow declension of burgeoning intellects through a routine of television, video games and a fear of reading books. But that’s hardly Beckett, is it? c) I first became an intellectual snob in my late teens. All populist entertainment is repulsive, useless, dangerous and witheringly anti-intellectual. Popular Culture: An Alphabetical Contempt.
0 kommentar(er)
