I'll admit it. There was a time maybe about fifteen years ago when I was sulking around, reveling in a wet sweater philosophy kick. Strange days for sure. Philosophy is the strongest meat there is, people, and to dabble in it is akin to the unlucky tourist taking the wrong turn down the wrong alley in the dark side of town. Philosophers. Brooding intellectuals who's life mission throughout history has been solely to torque the human mind. I was one such unlucky tourist. Down a dark alley one night I tripped and fell over the body of E.M.
Cioran. His smile was a knife. Quickly I read everything by him. Mr. Happy Pants had such gleeful titles --
The Trouble With Being Born, A Short History of Decay, Drawn and Quartered...show up at the party with one of those babies tucked into your jacket pocket and I'm telling you, the ladies will just peel off the walls and throw themselves at your feet.
Not.
Anyway, if you have a strong stomach... a good primer for E.M. Cioran and a terrific bathroom read is his masterpiece ON THE HEIGHTS OF DESPAIR, my Friday Forgotten Book. Short blasts of lyrical intensity, you are swept away into chaos and challenges of meaning that will rock you to your soul. Call it flash-philosophy. Essays with titles like "The Beauty of Flames", "Total Dissatisfaction", and "The Vanity of Compassion"...whew. Tasty, tasty, tasty. You've been warned.