If armies were constructed across time, space, languages, religion and death, everything, would there be the possibility that Morrissey, Kundera, and Kierkegaard could exist on the same side?
Morrissey and Kundera, negative and positive versions and-or reflections of each other. Kierkegaard would be on their side, but tempted by the dark force. And eventually, he’d get sucked in and forget even why he began the way he did.
Scott Fitzgerald would be like Kierkegaard, but not as totalitarian. He would leave it to talk and drink. Charlie Kaufman sulks with him while self-deprecatingly and arrogantly stating to himself how one can ever really be happy, because no one can possess a spotless mind.
Kierkegaard reassures him: “There are wishes that are forgotten like our yesterdays; there are wishes that one outgrows, and later can scarcely recall, there are wishes that one learns to give up, and how good it was to have given them up, and wishes which one hides away, just as a departed person hides in glorified memory. But there is a wish that dies slowly and only dies when the sufferer dies!”
This doesn’t make Kaufman feel any better.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I’m so happy, I could die now,” he replies.
Morrissey possibly become Charlie Kaufman’s best friend, except for the fact that two self-deprecating arrogant people can never be best friends, because they each think they are better than the other. So they are best enemies, enefriends and frienemies.
Morrissey is sick of the whole meeting.
He thinks, paranoid: “They say they respect me, but it must mean that their judgment is crazy!”
Rainer Maria Rilke whispers to himself, “You make me feel alone. I try imagining: one minute it’s you, then the next it’s the soaring wind; a fragrance that comes and goes but never lasts.”
Erasmus responds by chiming in, “[but] In the absence of reality, the appearance of it is the next best thing!”
HRARA- The Hopeless Romantics Against Romance Army
They gather at the Chesnut Tree Cafe and spout, “Communists say love is a form of capitalism– a form of oppression,”
And they’re definitely not fighting to liberate.
Kundera suddenly looks over to me.
Kundera: “I can never quite understand to what extent one should take your projects seriously,”
me: “Everything I do should be taken absolutely seriously. For example, I can imagine you” writing yourself in a novel of a fictional account of historical figures meeting after death discussing their respective immortalities.
“Surely you didn’t expect them to approve it, or did you by any chance think they would burst into applause?”
Kundera: “No, I didn’t,”
me: “Then why did you do it? In order to unmask them? to prove to them that in spite of all their nonconformist gesticulations they are in reality a part of the” HRARA?
Kundera: “There is nothing more useless, than trying to prove something to idiots,”
me: “There then is only one explanation: you wanted to have some fun. but even in that case your behavior seems illogical to me. Surely you didn’t expect that any of them would understand you and laugh!”
Kundera: “No, I didn’t expect that. Joking no longer makes sense. This world takes everything seriously. Even me. And that’s the limit.”
me: “I should rather think that nobody takes anything seriously! They all just want to amuse themselves!”
Kundera: “That comes to the same thing.”
- Milan Kundera, late 20th century Czech writer, ‘Immortality’ pg. 331-332.
- Morrissey, present-day musician, ‘You are the Quarry’, “How Could They Possibly Know the Way I Feel”.
- Rainer Maria Rilke, turn of 19th century German poet, ‘Song’.
- Erasmus, 15th century Christian Humanist author.
- Charlie Kaufman, present-day Screenwriter, ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, Joel to Clementine.
- Soren Kierkegaard, philosopher, ‘Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing’ pg. 150.