Life of decadence

Life of decadence

One can't be a writer without being a decadent. You can be a Jeffrey
Archer or a Ken Follet by meticulous research of a plot and writing it
to the expectant masses. However, it is a different matter being a
Hemingway, Henry Miller, Volatire or Thoreau. They are philosophers
first, and writers next. For most of them writing is not just a mode
of employment. It is a catharsis. Outlet. Self-expression. They cared
a damn for what the readers thought. Isn't it wistful that a writer
doesn't care a wit for their readers?

Those writers have experienced their life in first-hand. They didn't
stand in the bylines and been mute spectators. They loved life. They
accepted themselves. Self-esteem personified. Self-esteem is what a
writer needs.

All these writers made Paris their hub. Why? Why had Paris become a
breeding bed avant-garde artist, reclusive writers and unfathomable
intellectuals? It has been their choice because 1) it is a city with a
great history 2)  It is a city that hated intellectual and artistic
stagnation. 3) Debauchers, sybarites, profligates are not looked down upon.

These three reasons would have made Paris an iconoclast's shrine. How
many times a person is free to enjoy the life the way he wants in his
domicile. Acquaintances, relatives, parents, siblings weigh you down
with their expectations and with their ideas of what a perfect life
is.

Why should a life be always perfect? What is a perfect life? Who
defines what is a perfect life?

An individual's life can be as imperfect as He wants it to be.

For example, the life I lead in Mumbai, was the best phase in my life.
No acquaintance, no relatives - just a soul mate. No need to watch my
back. No paranoia about holding hands. By this I don't mean to say I
lead a life of decadent in Mumbai. I say what it is to be a nonentity.
Left to your devices and no dogmas, no strictures. Just being oneself.
No stale notions of what one should do and what one should be.

A so-called decadent can understand what an another decadent is going
through. Sort of brotherhood. I think Paris was one such communion
for the so-called decadents. How I wish to be in Paris. My notions of
what a writer is can be screwed up. May be not. I am free to be as
screwed up as I can.

You can't be a writer without being a decadent. You can't be a
philosopher without being a sybarite. You can't be a humanist without
be a realist. You cant be an intellectual unless you dare to be a
stupid. You can't be a man unless you can suck it up and smile at your
adversary. #eof

Sent from my iPhone