There is a Presidential Debate going on today. The general apathy around here proves that last Saturday's ESPN's College Game Day (which I fully expect is CIA funded- I mean they did it with abstract expressionism) was a much bigger affair.
And maybe there's a kernel of some answer, some hope in these words from a failed soldier and house-painter from Mississippi.
Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.