posts tagged "sincerity"

The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat of plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Dead on the page. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point. Maybe that’s why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘Oh how banal.’ To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows.

David Foster Wallace, “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction” (via libraryland)
fuckyeahexistentialism:

“We discover that we do not know our own role; we look for a mirror; we want to remove our make-up and take off what is false and be real.
But somewhere a piece of disguise that we forgot still sticks to us. A trace of exaggeration remains in our eyebrows; we do not notice that the corners of our mouths are bent.
And so we walk around, a mockery and a mere half: neither having achieved being nor actors.”
Rainer Maria Rilke 
(via ohwhatarecluse)

fuckyeahexistentialism:

“We discover that we do not know our own role; we look for a mirror; we want to remove our make-up and take off what is false and be real.

But somewhere a piece of disguise that we forgot still sticks to us. A trace of exaggeration remains in our eyebrows; we do not notice that the corners of our mouths are bent.

And so we walk around, a mockery and a mere half: neither having achieved being nor actors.”

Rainer Maria Rilke 

(via ohwhatarecluse)