He was a major player in the philosophy of Absurdism, which basically tells us that we mean shit all in the grand scheme of things, and the contradiction of our longing for purpose and the lack of such a thing, is what is ultimately Absurd.
Camus, a French Writer born in 1913, was one of the biggest players in Absurdism, promoting it through his works, namely the novel L'Étranger (The Stranger, which the Cure’s Killing An Arab was based on) and the essay Le Mythe de Sisyphe (The Myth of Sisyphus). After reading both (Sisyphus was a bitch to get my head around) last year I decided to base my Extension English HSC Major Work, which was short stories, on Camus' teachings of the Absurd man.
The greatest teaching I learnt from Camus, is that no matter our lack of spiritual meaning, we’ve gotta keep on keeping on in this world. We can also adopt our own purpose, however great or small. But we must maintain an ironic distance from this meaning, though I say as long as your purpose satisfies you, fuck it, don’t think about that part.
The man predicted he was to die in a car crash some day, and whaddya know, in France in 1960 he was killed in a car accident. See, he had discovered something big the fellas upstairs didn’t want us to catch on to, so they bumped him off.
He was a prophet.
Go and read The Stranger before you die, and make up your own meaning in life. As long as it makes you happy.
(this eerie number from Michigan's Salem sets an Absurdist mood. It should be the soundtrack to searching for a witch in a haunted forest and videotaping it)
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