/lit/ - Literature

>>17125976
Yes, I cling to life fearfully, and I think it's insane that anyone doesn't.

>When people experience beauty, it is because they have grasped across specificity to unite themselves to something they find transcendent.

There is nothing our art can grasp that is 'transcendent' in any meaningful way. We can navel gaze about our joys or our sufferings for another thousand years and it won't add up to anything more than the sum of its parts. If civilisation lasts long enough, it will mean even less, because the struggles that gave it its petty subjective meaning will have ceased to be felt realities, in just the same way your ancestors' daily struggle to hunt their next meal no longer means anything to you. Beauty is a byproduct of neural cross-wiring. I like it - and you like it - because it feels good. But then we die and there is no beauty.

>Without death, the experience of universality and truth is not possible, consciousness is not possible, each aspect of demarcation and specificity has its borders.

What truth? What universality? What is there to know? And even if there was, why, logically, would it be incomprehensible without the looming cessation of all intellect. Surely you'd have a better chance of growing wise if, you know, you had a mind to think with. And why does consciousness require death? What is logically implausible about sustaining the processes of the human body and brain indefinitely?


>The cessation that occurs at those borders is death.

No. You know what death is. You can look it up on wikipedia if you don't.