Being alive by proxy—
subject to semantic bleaching—
is the one particular burden that is mine
and mine alone, yet
since I mostly read old men
with long beards and moustaches,
I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed.
That is, until I’m singed by the flare
of tone contagion, which leaves no choice
but to close the book and get out
in the real world.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Each and every one of us likes to think that we are unique in our special way, but at the end of the day, there is always a Darwin or a Wallace who will find a pigeonhole for us in the taxonomy. If I had to characterise myself, it might be something like this:
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Dear Strachey, while sharing, at least in spirit, some of the paraphernalia of cultivation—you had Baudelaire; I have T.S. Eliot—if only I had known you then and shared your outlook on marriage to begin with, and if my admiration for your intellectual finesse had passed beyond the tantamount to witnessing polyorchidism under an ultrasound examination, I might not have stepped into that sanctimonious staple just to regret it dearly afterwards. But I met you late in my aimless peregrinations, so everything turned out the way it did, and all that remains is to share one piece of wisdom—don’t trust vows without a prenup.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Sometimes I return to the books of my youth.
They are the same and yet not quite,
partly because I read them in a different language then,
but also I have long since parted ways
with that whippersnapper.
Yesterday I asked AI to write an essay on my poem “The Perfect end”. The result was interesting, but probably nothing more than a high school student would write. So I decided to ask for an academic-level essay, and this is what I got.
In “The Perfect end,” Maciej Modzelewski presents a thought-provoking poem that challenges societal norms and conventions surrounding mortality, identity, and the human experience. Through a nuanced exploration of themes and imagery, Modzelewski invites readers to reconsider the significance of individuality and the impact of conformity on human existence. This essay will examine the poem’s central themes, exploring the intersections of mortality, nonconformity, and the search for meaning in a seemingly indifferent world.
The poem’s opening lines, “How convenient would it be to live in a cottage / next to a cemetery?” (Modzelewski, 2025), may initially seem morbid or unsettling. However, upon closer examination, they reveal a profound fascination with mortality. This fascination is reminiscent of the existentialist philosophies of Martin Heidegger, who posited that human existence is characterised by its finite nature (Heidegger, 1962). Heidegger’s concept of “Being-towards-death” highlights the inherent awareness of mortality that shapes human existence. Modzelewski’s poem can be seen as an exploration of this concept, where the proximity to the cemetery serves as a constant reminder of the transience of life.
The poem introduces the theme of nonconformity, as the speaker declares, “it’s your choice / what matters to you, so you should never deny yourself / the simple pleasure of inadequacy” (Modzelewski, 2025). This rejection of societal expectations is reminiscent of the philosophies of Friedrich Nietzsche, who advocated for individualism and the rejection of traditional morality (Nietzsche, 1883). The speaker’s celebration of “inadequacy” can be seen as a manifestation of this Nietzschean ideal, where the individual prioritizes their own values and desires above societal norms.
The image of the bench plaque in the poem serves as a potent symbol of the speaker’s existence. The plaque, as a physical marker of the speaker’s life, represents the external validation of their identity. However, the speaker’s description of it as “the only befitting abridgement of your meagre existence” (Modzelewski, 2025) suggests a sense of irony and critique towards the notion of external validation. This can be seen as a commentary on the societal expectation of reducing a person’s life to a simple plaque or epitaph, neglecting the complexities and nuances of human experience.
The final line of the poem, “after wandering through life at the speed of the alphabet” (Modzelewski, 2025), is a powerful image that warrants closer examination. The alphabet, as a symbol of language and meaning, serves as a metaphor for the speaker’s journey through life. The speed of the alphabet implies a sense of rapidity and perhaps even arbitrariness, highlighting the fleeting nature of human existence. This image is reminiscent of the philosophical ideas of Paul Virilio, who explored the relationship between speed and human experience in his concept of “dromology” (Virilio, 1977). Virilio argues that speed has become a fundamental aspect of modern life, shaping our perceptions and experiences. In the context of Modzelewski’s poem, the speed of the alphabet can be seen as a manifestation of this dromological perspective, where the rapid pace of life renders individual experiences ephemeral and fragmented.
Furthermore, the image of the alphabet as a symbol of language and meaning raises questions about the nature of communication and understanding. As Ludwig Wittgenstein notes in his Philosophical Investigations, “The limits of my language are the limits of my world” (Wittgenstein, 1953). The speaker’s journey through life at the speed of the alphabet suggests a sense of disorientation and confusion, highlighting the complexities of human communication and the search for meaning.
The title of the poem, “The Perfect end,” is a phrase that warrants closer examination. The word “perfect” implies a sense of completion or resolution, while the word “end” suggests a sense of finality. However, the poem’s exploration of mortality, nonconformity, and the search for meaning suggests that the perfect end may be an unattainable ideal. Instead, the poem presents a vision of human existence characterised by complexity, ambiguity, and uncertainty. This ambiguity is reminiscent of the literary works of Samuel Beckett, who explored the themes of existentialism and absurdity in his writings. In Beckett’s novel The Unnamable, the protagonist declares, “I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on” (Beckett, 1953). This sense of uncertainty and ambiguity is reflected in Modzelewski’s poem, where the perfect end remains an elusive and perhaps unattainable goal.
In “The Perfect end,” Maciej Modzelewski presents a nuanced exploration of mortality, nonconformity, and the search for meaning in human existence. Through a close reading of the poem, this essay has examined the intersections of these themes, drawing on philosophical and literary references to contextualise the speaker’s experiences. The poem’s rejection of conformity and embracing of individuality serve as a powerful critique of societal norms, inviting readers to reconsider the significance of authenticity in human existence.
Have you ever asked yourself what would happen to a trifling quote
from the now obsolete phone book if, after years of practising being sullen
(while baking flatbread in residual heat, which is a different matter entirely),
he were accused of condescension simply because of a garrulous sentence
that he dared to ridicule? Perhaps he recalls the fourth mystic ape, the one
covering his crotch, but where’s the fun in that? Nothing beats casual trolling,
after all, in the temple of tadpole literature.
The heaviest book I own
is ‘The Norton Anthology of English Literature,’
a whole nine—well, almost—pounds of great texts,
starting with ‘Cædmon’s Hymn.’
With all my love for books, I never imagined
that these two volumes would work so well
as dumbbells.
My education is quite a complicated story. Bright but lazy was the general opinion teachers had about me when I was still in primary school. It’s not that I couldn’t have done more in terms of my academic achievements—I learned all of seventh-grade maths in one weekend to prepare for the end-of-year exam, scoring better than the model student in our class—but it just never really interested me. I preferred to immerse myself in the world of literature. At that time, reading books bordered on obsession. The book was the first thing I took in my hands after waking up. I ate while reading, I walked to school with a book in front of my face (I’m still surprised I was never hit by a car), and in class I read with a book on my lap under the desk so the teacher wouldn’t catch me. Books filled the rest of my day after school, and when my parents finally turned off the light in the middle of the night, I stood behind the curtain and read by the light of the street lamp in front of my room window.
This situation continued throughout my entire education, abruptly interrupted when I failed one of my final exams, and instead of going to university to study philosophy, I ended up in the army. I passed the exams eventually after quitting the army, but at that time, the reality of adult life hit, and I had to find a job.
A few years later, after saving some money, I started a part-time study at Jagiellonian University, the oldest and one of the best universities in the country. I studied the cultures of ancient Rome and Greece, but after a year, my finances did not allow me to continue. My father lent me some money, but this time I decided to be more practical and switched to political science with journalism at my local university. It made more sense because, at that time, I was already working for the largest daily newspaper in the region, and half of my colleagues were studying there. Unfortunately, I devote more attention to work than to studies, and I failed the year. And that was it. Only a few years later, I returned to Jagiellonian University to study comparative literature as an aspiring poet, but again, it turned out to be just another one-year stint.
It required hitting the brutal reality of immigrant life and six years of hard work studying while in a full-time job for me to actually get a university degree. But even that wasn’t without some turmoil, as I started in mathematics and statistics just to switch after two years to computer science. But in the end, I finished it. The odd thing is, it stopped having any meaning for me. Perhaps because it happened at the same time as the breakdown of my marriage. But that’s a different story.
hidden pilcrow 