My friend Rob showed me this David Foster Wallace quote: "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 These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started.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. "
To which I replied:
i consider myself an anti-rebel
and an anti-intellectual
despite my inclinations to disrupt the status quo of thought through intellectual endeavors
but that is the whole point.
END portion of online convo.
Thoughts:
I'm not sure if this makes sense. Or what I am getting at. But something is going on with my aversion to rebellion and intellectualism, and how I also want them in some way. I'm not sure. This is a thought to work with. And this post is just to capture this moment that I found curious. Rob identifies with this quote a lot, said it was about him. We will see what it means maybe in the future.
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