Having recently returned from overseas to my rural paradi...

Having recently returned from overseas to my rural paradise, I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s one thing it’s missing; people who like speculating pointlessly about abstruse subjects in which they have no appreciable expertise. People, in short, like me.

I thought that there would be lots of these people lurking about here like wood bugs, just waiting for someone to lift up the rotting log of obscurity to come scuttling out into the light. Well, there aren’t. know. I advertised. Does the universe have an edge, I asked? What is art? Will AI ever be conscious? Is morality absolute? Do you care? Then sign up for my fun and intellectually stimulating salon (in the Madame de Stael sense) and let’s have a woodbug fest!

But no, they don’t care. Nobody in my area likes this sort of thing (well, one guy does, but I think he may be planning an exchange of bits pics). I’m not sure what my next move will be, but I feel my brain slowly rotting.

And on a kinda sorta related subject…you know those women who tell everyone what a pain it is to be beautiful? Usually they get slammed because a) how vain are YOU! b) everyone knows beautiful people get better jobs so what are you complaining about and c) hang on a sec you’re not even that beautiful anyway! So how much more would you get slammed if you complained about the trials of being too bright? Of course, the tragic genius will argue thusly. If you’re brighter (in the traditional IQ based sense, which is not to say there’s not many other senses) than, let’s say, 90 percent of people, you’re going to struggle to find a guy who can keep up his end of the conversation, and will have to settle instead for one who’s good in bed or fixes things. At barbecues people will say things like ‘I read that there’s this secret bit of the Bible about aliens’ and you won’t know where to start. You’ll have lots of great chats about kids and ‘men!!!’ and practically none about the theoretical underpinnings of The Matrix (possibly just as well).

Not MY problem, I hasten to say. I might have been bright-ish thirty years ago but now my brain is a festering swamp (is there any other kind?) traversed by a few oft-trod planks (historical fiction – ie stuff I shoulda/mighta/coulda done when I was younger, future fiction – stuff I might but probably won’t do in the decade left to me, and actual fiction, which now involves a lot of google synonym searches). Apart from these few planks, it’s all a dismal fen of Things I Can’t (or can’t be arsed to) Get My Head Around – algebra, lawnmower mechanics, garden science, literary criticism, crosswords.

No, my current problem is more that – to use a phrase I despise – I haven’t found my Tribe. Don’t get me wrong, there’s loads of people I like down here. BUT. In social interactions, I’m always participating in conversations about things in which other people are interested. Compost. Inspirational biography. The Melbourne Cup. I rarely get to discuss the things in which I am interested. Quantum theory. The origin of ethics. Whether dolphins make jokes. Yes I am also slightly fascinated by compost, at times. Still…

Ergo, I am bored. What to do? For one thing, I’ve decided to only follow blogs which really interest me. Yours, obviously. I might, also, visit the Big Smoke for the purpose of attending meetings of the Humanist Society. If I’m lucky, there might be nerds there. And…I should get out more. I might find woodbugs cowering under the shelter of, for instance, the local Poetry Workshop, or a lecture on Bernard Shaw. Only, a final whinge, I’m kinda over old people. I’m an old person, nothing wrong with that, but a little variety wouldn’t go astray. Something to get the wheels out of the rut and doing burnouts on the open road.

And on a completely different topic, this week I’m hating on…Daily Calendar Wisdom. Love heals everything. Live in the moment. Three steps to a better you. Inspirational shit in general. Can’t stand it. I thought of my own inspirational quote today though, it goes, True Wisdom is when you realise you’re a fucking idiot. Socrates, if I’m not mistaken.

Unduly negative? Yeah I know. Anyway, have you found your tribe? Are you bored? Well, here’s one solution – a bunch of free books from Devious Paradoxes. Enjoy.