I have been trying to write here. Truth is I am stuck between fragments and the usual postmodern immersion between empty meaning(s) and existential meaninglessness.
I spent some time yesterday thinking about the state of politics inside of the African National Congress (ANC). The experts are in full swing about the likely outcome(s). But a lot more folks (including me) can barely care enough to know who will split from the ANC and what that McLite faction might look like.
The supposed break and the ongoing acrimony inside the ANC is all about power mongering, nothing more or less.
I also thought a little about the 'Joe Plumber' affair. Turns out 'Joe' ain't no Joe and he ain't no plumber or even apprentice plumber.
Real or not, 'Joe' like so many other Joes and Joanns everywhere is a working stiff who is made to think that voting for Barry Obama or John McSame will make a difference in his life.
Seems 'Joe' was worried about paying taxes over the $250k mark that Barry says he will tax. Bald and determined 'Joe' (34) confronted Barry because he was about to buy a business that would be taxed under Barry's plan.
What he did not tell Barry or the mostly indifferent world watching on, is that he owes taxes and can't afford to buy any business.
I am stuck for more reasons than the alienation that describes my disconnection to either of these fragments (stories).
In the next few weeks no one will care about the asses who walked or stayed in the ANC. 'Joe' will hardly be a memory except among his co-workers who will talk sh*t about him and his 16 minutes of infamy for a little while longer.
And what does this all amount to, the Myth of Sisyphus?
Camus would say that these fragments are only as real as the meaning that is brought to make them real. But even Camus worried about the meaninglessness of meaning.
Who will bring meaning to meaning? Who will tell all the Joes and Joanns that meaning is more likely a façade to cover the pressing universal reality of carrying a burden up a hill over and over again ... and all the while forgetting why on the way up and on the way down.
Some among the more 'optimistic' will not deny that postmodern life cuts like a blunt life through any one meaning because they are hopeful. For these folks Sisyphus is just likely to find meaning as he is to remain numbed by meaningless.
I am not saying that optimism is hopeless.
But like my long lost friend Rajeev would say; "I remain confident yet unsure" that any meaning is meaningful enough to explain the existential numbness of being forced to find meaning over and over again.
I think Sisyphus should just stop rolling that boulder up the hill. I expect that even the Gods at one time or the other will grow numb and forget the meaning they intended when they condemned him so.