Four Things, on Dispatch from the Razor's Edge

"Because you've got to do something while you're waiting around doing nothing."
- Joe Laltrello

Sunday evening, and swinging by Walgreens I picked up:

A new, black, 200-page, 5.5x3.5 Mead "Fat 'Lil Notebook."
Another $3.99 chrono sports watch, with alarm!

Yeah! These are two of the top pieces of gear that got me through Europe last year. The old notebook I mostly filled – and I have no idea what happened to the watch. (Particularly since it was tightly secured to my daypack.) Never mind. I promptly performed the same operation on this one, removing the kludgy wrist strap, and adroitly binding it to a loop on the appropriate piece of luggage. "Man, I'm good at this," thought I. "Too bad I can't get paid for it . . ."

Had a stellar dinner/coffee out with Jeremy on Friday night. My agenda was to break the news of my departure, but of course the conversation was spectacular as always. From that conversation, here are two points I think are worth considering in making life trajectory decisions:

LIFE IS LONG. This is a subjective view on my part. But, my sense of it is that even a standard, old-style, 20th century, three-score-and-ten lifespan is a long freaking time. (Never mind how long WE're likely to live. As our extropian and biomedical scientist friends will point out: if you're alive 40 years from now, you may be facing drastically reduced opportunities to ever die of anything). But, either way, it allows for a lot of activity. A lot of room to maneuver; change course; retreat; recover. So, suppose you decide to take off for Borneo for a year. Or three. Maybe you discover a new species, maybe you write the Great South Pacific Novel, maybe you achieve satori. Or not. What's lost? A year? Whatever you were doing before will still be there. A long life, I assert, advocates for experimentation and whimsy.
The existentialist notion of ABSURDITY. As Camus sagely noted, there is, manifestly, no point to human existence on Earth, and we haven't been dropped here (or, rather, sprouted here) to play any particular role. Of any sort. Whatsoever. One conclusion one can draw from this is: No, it really doesn't matter all that terribly much what you do. It usually feels like it does, but it just doesn't. There IS no Cosmic Rule Book from which to deviate. One might reasonably seek to abide by Vonnegut's "Rosewater Rule" in the matter. But, other than that, it's open mic night. Knock it out. (And don't waste any more energy than necessary agonizing about it.) Absurdity, I assert, advocates for experimentation and whimsy.

existentialism freedom stuff my exodus life choices

Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.

Fuchs is the author of the novels The Manuscript and Pandora's Sisters, both published worldwide by Macmillan in hardback, paperback and all e-book formats (and in translation); the D-Boys series of high-tech, high-concept, spec-ops military adventure novels – D-Boys, Counter-Assault, and Close Quarters Battle (coming in 2016); and is co-author, with Glynn James, of the bestselling Arisen series of special-operations military ZA novels. The second nicest thing anyone has ever said about his work was: "Fuchs seems to operate on the narrative principle of 'when in doubt put in a firefight'." (Kirkus Reviews, more here.)

Fuchs was born in New York; schooled in Virginia (UVa); and later emigrated to the San Francisco Bay Area, where he lived through the dot-com boom. Subsequently he decamped for an extended period of tramping before finally rocking up in London, where he now makes his home. He does a lot of travel blogging, most recently of some very long walks around the British Isles. He's been writing and developing for the web since 1994 and shows no particularly hopeful signs of stopping.

You can reach him on .

Most recent

Most read

Most commented

By tag

Related

Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.


2023 >> 2022 >> 2021 >> 2020 >> 2019 >> 2018 >> 2017 >> 2016 >> 2015 >> 2014 >> 2013 >> 2012 >> 2011 >> 2010 >> 2009 >> 2008 >> 2007 >> 2006 >> 2005 >> 2004 >> 2003 >> 2002-12-20 2002-12-18 2002-12-17 2002-12-16 2002-12-15 2002-12-13 2002-12-12 2002-12-10 2002-12-06 2002-12-03 2002-11-28 2002-11-26 2002-11-24 2002-11-21 2002-11-20 2002-11-19 2002-11-16 2002-11-14 2002-11-12 2002-11-08 2002-11-07 2002-11-04 2002-11-02 2002-11-01 2002-10-31 2002-10-30 2002-10-28 2002-10-26 2002-10-24 2002-10-03 2002-10-02 2002-09-21 2002-09-18 2002-09-15 2002-09-11 2002-08-26 2002-08-20 2002-08-15 2002-08-07 2002-08-01 2002-07-27 2002-07-22 2002-07-20 2002-07-17 2002-07-14 2002-07-13 2002-07-11 2002-07-09 2002-07-06 2002-07-04	2002.07.14 : Four Things "Because you've got to do something while you're waiting around doing nothing." - Joe Laltrello Sunday evening, and swinging by Walgreens I picked up: A new, black, 200-page, 5.5x3.5 Mead "Fat 'Lil Notebook." Another $3.99 chrono sports watch, with alarm! Yeah! These are two of the top pieces of gear that got me through Europe last year. The old notebook I mostly filled – and I have no idea what happened to the watch. (Particularly since it was tightly secured to my daypack.) Never mind. I promptly performed the same operation on this one, removing the kludgy wrist strap, and adroitly binding it to a loop on the appropriate piece of luggage. "Man, I'm good at this," thought I. "Too bad I can't get paid for it . . ." Had a stellar dinner/coffee out with Jeremy on Friday night. My agenda was to break the news of my departure, but of course the conversation was spectacular as always. From that conversation, here are two points I think are worth considering in making life trajectory decisions: LIFE IS LONG. This is a subjective view on my part. But, my sense of it is that even a standard, old-style, 20th century, three-score-and-ten lifespan is a long freaking time. (Never mind how long WE're likely to live. As our extropian and biomedical scientist friends will point out: if you're alive 40 years from now, you may be facing drastically reduced opportunities to ever die of anything). But, either way, it allows for a lot of activity. A lot of room to maneuver; change course; retreat; recover. So, suppose you decide to take off for Borneo for a year. Or three. Maybe you discover a new species, maybe you write the Great South Pacific Novel, maybe you achieve satori. Or not. What's lost? A year? Whatever you were doing before will still be there. A long life, I assert, advocates for experimentation and whimsy. The existentialist notion of ABSURDITY. As Camus sagely noted, there is, manifestly, no point to human existence on Earth, and we haven't been dropped here (or, rather, sprouted here) to play any particular role. Of any sort. Whatsoever. One conclusion one can draw from this is: No, it really doesn't matter all that terribly much what you do. It usually feels like it does, but it just doesn't. There IS no Cosmic Rule Book from which to deviate. One might reasonably seek to abide by Vonnegut's "Rosewater Rule" in the matter. But, other than that, it's open mic night. Knock it out. (And don't waste any more energy than necessary agonizing about it.) Absurdity, I assert, advocates for experimentation and whimsy. "Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies: 'Goddammit, you've got to be kind.'" - Kurt Vonnegut Jr., God Bless You Mr. Rosewater (hide) Tweet existentialism freedom stuff my exodus life choices ← before \| contribute comment ↓ \| after →