> But let me give you a very serious warning. Be careful how you ask me to do anything outré, to imitate the man in the pantomime, and to sit on my hat. Because I am a man whose soul has been emptied of all pleasures but folly. And for twopence I'd do it."
> "Do it, then," said Lambert, swinging his stick impatiently. "It would be funnier than the bosh you and Barker talk."
> Quin, standing on the top of the hill, stretched his hand out towards the main avenue of Kensington Gardens.
> "Two hundred yards away," he said, "are all your fashionable acquaintances with nothing on earth to do but to stare at each other and at us. We are standing upon an elevation under the open sky, a peak as it were of fantasy, a Sinai of humour. We are in a great pulpit or platform, lit up with sunlight, and half London can see us. Be careful how you suggest things to me. For there is in me a madness which goes beyond martyrdom, the madness of an utterly idle man.
Once you realize that life has no meaning, except that which we arbitrarily assign, you can only go a few ways with it. Of all the 'ism's you could choose in that moment, absudism is perhaps the least worst.
Auberon Quinn, is that you?
> But let me give you a very serious warning. Be careful how you ask me to do anything outré, to imitate the man in the pantomime, and to sit on my hat. Because I am a man whose soul has been emptied of all pleasures but folly. And for twopence I'd do it."
> "Do it, then," said Lambert, swinging his stick impatiently. "It would be funnier than the bosh you and Barker talk."
> Quin, standing on the top of the hill, stretched his hand out towards the main avenue of Kensington Gardens.
> "Two hundred yards away," he said, "are all your fashionable acquaintances with nothing on earth to do but to stare at each other and at us. We are standing upon an elevation under the open sky, a peak as it were of fantasy, a Sinai of humour. We are in a great pulpit or platform, lit up with sunlight, and half London can see us. Be careful how you suggest things to me. For there is in me a madness which goes beyond martyrdom, the madness of an utterly idle man.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/20058/20058-h/20058-h.htm
Absurdism (of the Camus variety) is boomer nihilism.
I came here to say this.
Once you realize that life has no meaning, except that which we arbitrarily assign, you can only go a few ways with it. Of all the 'ism's you could choose in that moment, absudism is perhaps the least worst.
"Credo quia absurdum est."
What you're describing is "existentialism", and Camus's absurdidm is a reaction to it. The difference is subtle, but important to Camus.