Wilde or someone like him said that good writers write the life they cannot live, and poor writers live the life they cannot write. Did he say it like that? Whatever, you get the point.
I’ve oscillated between those two for awhile. Recently I’ve been sucked into life – and death – much more than I’ve been sucked into my imaginary world.
But new years are, although deliberately, harbingers of change and novelty. So for this new year what I want to do is to get my book out of there.
I truly believe the only thing that’s important in life is to be happy. One quote from Truffaut’s masterpiece that is Jules et Jim which is often overlooked,
Le bonheur se raconte mal. Il s’use sans qu’on en perçoive l’usure.
Which means, happiness is a tale badly told. It’s being used without us perceiving its consumption.
So let this become a playground. Starting this month, I will publish the most intimate letters I’ve written, together with the replies from the people those letters were destined. If you’re one of my friends, don’t worry; I won’t publish anything without your consent first. Also, some of you already told me that you might want to change names, to protect your privacy. That’s ok. Will do.
Why letters and not blog posts, you say? Because I’m a sucker for real things, and honestly, writing to an hypothetic audience it’s bullcrap.
Last piece then: why blindness? Why Dead Men Naked?
Blindness is the title of Jose Saramago’s best book in my opinion. It was also the title of my first blog.
It is also a great word, that perfectly represents the status of society nowadays. And, depicts in a word the Myth of the Cave by Plato. Look it up, fellas.
Dead Men Naked is the title of my book, and it’s an homage to Dylan Thomas’s poem And Death Shall Have no Dominion.
Let’s get this party started.