It wasn't just his intelligence. Sure nobody I knew made the connections between things that he did. Nobody I knew even talked about the things he talked about. There was more to it than even that. All his heroes, all his cultural references were born of opprresion and ultimatley, defeat, be they people or ideas. The poets , the Billie Hollidays...
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It wasn't just his intelligence. Sure nobody I knew made the connections between things that he did. Nobody I knew even talked about the things he talked about. There was more to it than even that. All his heroes, all his cultural references were born of opprresion and ultimatley, defeat, be they people or ideas. The poets , the Billie Hollidays , the Rosenberg kids , and all the sweet littele Abe Meeropols in the world - they hadn't stood a chance . But Simon was determined not to let them go] He had to save them all retrospectivley remember them all so that every day was All Saints Day for him. His whole life was one huge quixotic struggle. He couldnt even find common ground with the formal institutions of the political left. He was almost more scathing of the left than the right. I was only visitng the struggle. I didnt want to be a part. It was exhausting. I didnt identify with these people. Nobody else I knew did. I wanted to go back to being appealed by advertisements. I liked knowing what people were wearing in glamarous places. I wanted to be free to ignore all the pain and suffering in the world.
_ excerpt Seven Degrees of Seperation
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