The revelation of a dim mind

I have always believed that boredom is a symptom of the laziness of the mind, for brilliant minds are self-sufficient, as seen in the case of Richard Feynman, who remained lucid, mentally active, and undisturbed even by the absence of sensory input in John C. Lilly’s isolation tank. And although I’m far from that level of acumen myself, I’ve often quipped that I’m never bored because I share my time with a very intelligent person—myself. Besides, I tend to keep books close at hand. (And speaking of books and great minds, I’ve long found it fascinating when intellectuals claim that a particular book changed their life—only to then have a flash of insight: nothing like that has ever happened to me, so either I’m not easily impressed, or I’m simply too dim to grasp what I read.)


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

The paradox of justice

Entangled in paradoxes of substance, you seek a principle
against which there is no convention, while all I ever wanted
was a quiet midday nap, tired of your persistent attempts
at convincing me that if I descended from the magic mountain
to the flatlands, I would see that, for instance, the only difference
between criminals and law-abiding citizens lies in the definition
of an act of crime, because if one sunny morning, let’s say, speech
became an offence, few of the latter would manage to maintain
their status. But I honestly don’t know what you expected
since the justice system was never really about justice
but about maintaining social order—the winner’s justice
was always the loser’s injustice.