Wednesday, May 09, 2012
I have been sentenced to death. I have read a total of more than sixty essays most of which pretend to be essays on the theory of knowledge but are nothing of the sort. Most of them are collections of sentences, working their dreary way to release after a long term.
Helping the inmates demonstrate their fitness to be released is mind-boggling. Many of them can't write five lines without contradicting themselves or using words that have to be defined because they are not good enough. The latter problem adds to the bulk of the stool that is being dropped.
And so it goes. They're not always bad. Sometimes you find diamonds aching to be polished. Sometimes you find craftsmanship and even style. But mostly you take patience and add endurance, and work your way through the accidental labyrinths, past the bull-headed beast-men and the tangled webs, until your crimes are expiated and your sins are cleansed.