DEATH IS ETERNAL #410

3,300 words

It really bothers me to publish a DEATH IS ETERNAL and a HARVEY TURPIN at the same time. Yet, you voted for this, so I’ll respect your will and desire. Still, know that I feel somewhat bad for it because it seems I’m flooding your inboxes. I know I’m not because if it were the case, you wouldn’t have preferred this option when I asked you to choose, but still, a part of me feels like two emails at the same time are one too many emails... Well, maybe someday I’ll get over this feeling. Or maybe not *shrugs*

Contents

1. A TAPESTRY OF ACCOMPLISHMENTS

2. Writing: cover letters

3. Bye!

4. Life (from July 15 to 28, 2024)

5. Reviews #291, #292, #293, and #294: AMERICAN FICTION, ROAD HOUSE (2024), ARSÈNE LUPIN, GENTLEMAN CAMBRIOLEUR by Maurice Leblanc, and DOOM PATROL

6. The end

1. A TAPESTRY OF ACCOMPLISHMENTS

“How do you know you’ve accomplished something?”

Penny stood at the centre of the stage, a lone figure bathed in a pool of light. The vast auditorium held its breath, the air thick with anticipation. She gazed out into the sea of faces, her eyes searching for answers she knew she wouldn’t find there.

“How do you know you’ve accomplished something?” Her voice, though calm, trembled slightly, betraying the storm within. It wasn’t a question for the audience, who had paid dearly to see her, but for herself—a plea for clarity.

“How do you know you’ve really accomplished something and not just finished it?” Her eyes softened as she delved deeper, the reflection of her own turmoil flickering in the bright lights. The audience leaned in, caught in the web of her introspection. Penny Lee, the woman who had turned philosophy into a global sensation, now stood vulnerable before them. She had millions of followers, captivated by her charm and the simplicity with which she unravelled life’s complexities.

“Finishing something is easy. Anyone can finish something. You start, you finish. Done and dusted. Easy peasy. But does that mean you’ve accomplished something?” Her words floated through the silence, each one a delicate thread in the tapestry of thought she wove.

Penny couldn’t pinpoint the moment she became famous. She wasn’t a philosopher by trade—just a curious soul with a camera. Yet, her musings struck a chord. People saw in her questions the echo of their own uncertainties, and her conclusions, while not universal, offered a path through the labyrinth of their minds.

Her candid and unpolished videos revealed a woman wrestling with the same existential dilemmas that haunted her viewers. It was this raw authenticity that drew them in, making them believe that perhaps, in her search, she had stumbled upon the key to some profound inner truth. The answer to life, the universe, and everything.

What no one knew, and what Penny seemed to forget with each question she posed, was that she didn’t possess the key to truth. No one did. She had started filming herself, capturing the raw moments of her curiosity because the act of questioning itself was intoxicating. Each new question led to another, a never-ending cascade that made her feel alive. But fame had twisted that pure intent. Now, she clung to the illusion spun by her admirers: that one day, she would ask the final question and grasp the ultimate Truth, capital T.

Penny stood before the crowd, her silhouette sharp against the blinding stage lights. She knew the questions she asked were not for the answers—they were for the doubt. Doubt was fertile ground for growth, but she now believed it was her destiny to exhaust the well of questions.

“But finishing something is different from accomplishing something,” she began, her voice steady but eyes searching. “Finishing is menial. It’s a task completed, a box ticked. It doesn’t rewrite history or leave a mark on time. It’s simply done. Accomplishment, though, is profound. It changes the fabric of reality, even if just for a moment.”

The room was silent, a collective breath held. “Yet, if we don’t finish, we can never accomplish. This is the paradox: we must complete tasks to find meaning, even if, in the end, we discover nothing changed. Our efforts might seem futile, but they are essential. We must always strive to finish, for in finishing, we find the seeds of true accomplishment.”

Eyebrows furrowed, heads nodded thoughtfully, and a smattering of applause rippled through the audience. Some shouted praises, calling Penny a genius, the most significant philosopher of their time. She basked in their adulation, her smile broad but eyes distant, as if savouring a secret delight.

Inside, Penny felt a surge of exhilaration. She knew she was exceptional, but the validation spurred her on. She had crafted a space where doubt was celebrated, and in doing so, she continued her journey, ever in search of the elusive Truth.

“So, how do you know you’ve accomplished something?” Penny’s voice rang out, clear and resonant, cutting through the hushed anticipation of the crowd. This time, she was poised to deliver the answer they yearned for—the answer she yearned for. Each of her presentations was a unique tapestry woven from the fresh threads of a new question born from the previous night’s musings. This constant evolution made her the brightest star in the philosophical firmament. Repetition had its comforts, but nothing compared to the allure of a novel thought, a new spark.

“You know you’ve accomplished something when you finish it and feel a deep, resonant joy,” she continued, her eyes shining with conviction. “When you complete a task, and it brings a genuine smile to your face, that’s when you’ve achieved something transformative. It might not rewrite history or alter the fate of the world, but it changes your world, your personal history, even if just for a fleeting moment. Because grand, sweeping changes are rare, almost impossible. But changing your own story—that’s within your grasp.”

The room erupted. The silence shattered into a symphony of cheers, applause, and joyful tears. Strangers embraced, united in their newfound clarity. Penny watched, her heart swelling with a profound sense of fulfillment. This was her purpose, her gift: to make people see the power of small, personal victories. To instill peace and provoke reflection.

As the ovation continued, a realization washed over her, as gentle and startling as a summer rain. For the first time in ages, her smile wasn’t for the audience or the acclaim—it was for herself. In that instant, Penny understood the truth she had been chasing. There would always be another question, another layer to peel back. And that was perfectly fine. The endless pursuit wasn’t a flaw but a feature of the human condition. The truth that would change everything forever didn’t exist because what matters is not finishing but accomplishing, and one never ceases to accomplish.

The end

2. Writing: cover letters

Photo by Wendy Aros-Routman on Unsplash

I must begin with a confession: I despise cover letters. This piece may come off more as a rant than an essay, but you’ve been warned.

I loathe cover letters! Whether it’s applying for jobs or submitting short stories, the mere thought of drafting one fills me with disdain. To me, cover letters are an exercise in futility, serving only one purpose: to present a lie.

The essence of a cover letter is to introduce yourself or your work to someone unfamiliar with you. The flaw in this concept lies in its execution. No one approaches cover letters objectively; they are a stage set for self-promotion, demanding that we market ourselves to the best of our abilities. And I detest that! I don’t want my worth measured by my salesmanship. I want to be judged on the merits of my work or my experience—the quality of the piece I’m submitting or the resume detailing my achievements.

Perhaps cover letters once served a useful function when they were mere introductions, when they provided a personal touch, allowing a chance to express enthusiasm or their connection. But the moment someone realized they could embellish the truth, turning the mundane into the magnificent, cover letters lost their integrity. Society should have collectively acknowledged this shift and declared cover letters obsolete.

Yet, we did the opposite. Those adept at self-promotion leveraged this tool to advance further, leaving behind those with genuine talent but lacking in marketing prowess. Cover letters provide an unfair advantage. They do not reveal who is most suitable or capable but only highlight who is better at self-advertising.

Cover letters perpetuate a cycle of evaluation based not on merit and capability but on the ability to craft an appealing narrative. If having the best advertisement was a true measure of quality, every product in an infomercial would deliver on its lofty promises.

We should ban cover letters, halting the practice of judging people by their self-descriptions. Instead, let’s urgently make decisions based on who they truly are, not who they claim to be in a cover letter.

3. Bye!

Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers. If you want to read the rest of DEATH IS ETERNAL, consider becoming a paying subscriber. If you already are a paying subscriber, first of all, thank you very, very much! And second, I’ll see you on the other side of the paywall.