No, no I am joking Alfred. I think I know what's happening with you. Remember that I am also a depressive. You are into a maniac depressive crisis. You are into absolute nihilism and you are joking with infinite B.S. You are laughing about all this as I do. It is the revenge of meaninglessness.
Of course, it's true also that you could channelize that negativism into a positive rebellion, but no, you are into the intellectual suicide.
Your rhetoric shows no possible solution, as any dark paradox. Reality is defined by obscure, sinister clowns in a Circus of Deception and Death, the Abyss.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted" wrote once Hakim Bey, the self proclaimed Ontological Anarchist.
But of course IF nothing is true, THEN is not true that nothing is true.
We are in a logical in-between.
Even if you don't like what I wrote here, you will see my meaning. My deep, humanistic meaning.
Here nothing less that the Orquesta de Aragon, Alfred. Listen to this...
You know something, Alfred?; Basiago, the pseudo everything, the clowns that give the big show DO NOT UNDERSTAND what I am talking about.
The Time Travel machine will carry you back to your grandmother's house, tu Abuela, Alfredo. It's Friday and you are dancing with some girl and the music of the Orquesta de Aragon.
There is no transcendental meaning, Alfred Webre. There is no Telos, no Cosmic Plan. Just you and me as memory,
Self, Soul, Spirit, are just that: memory and nothing else. When we understand this we are alone, as always, and we are also free from B.S. Ready to confront the emptiness that was before us and the emptiness that will be after us. This, I think, is the courage of the Warrior, Alfred.