Maybe the ending doesn’t make sense to anybody and I’m just measuring how dadaist I can write before someone calls my bluff.
Unless that is the meta-commentary I’m attempting to make about Scott Alexander’s insinuation that sophistication is mostly just shibboleths. Which would make this post truly meaningful, but only on the meta-level. That would be appropriate for a story exploring the nature of fine art.
Of course, the real heist would be to do both; to write a scissor statement, where some people extract an obvious indirect meaning, while others conclude that the Palace of Hidden Doors contains only a small, featureless room.
Is taste a priesthood, a science, or a game of poker? I call your blind and raise you one hundred and twenty-seven words.
I confess that the ending is lost on me.
Maybe the ending doesn’t make sense to anybody and I’m just measuring how dadaist I can write before someone calls my bluff.
Unless that is the meta-commentary I’m attempting to make about Scott Alexander’s insinuation that sophistication is mostly just shibboleths. Which would make this post truly meaningful, but only on the meta-level. That would be appropriate for a story exploring the nature of fine art.
Of course, the real heist would be to do both; to write a scissor statement, where some people extract an obvious indirect meaning, while others conclude that the Palace of Hidden Doors contains only a small, featureless room.
Is taste a priesthood, a science, or a game of poker? I call your blind and raise you one hundred and twenty-seven words.