On a Cultural Embarrassment of Riches
the fact that our current age suffers from an embarrassment of riches in terms of culture — broadly defined to include everything from food to sport to literature to tv to architecture, et al — and that it’s literally impossible to consume everything worthwhile remains something that infuriates and confuses me. the most gratifying experience short of sex is watching/reading/eating/listening to something that makes you just appreciate how talented its creator is, and to think to yourself “this is fucking good.” yet the number of cultural artifacts that elicit that response — in my mind at least, and perhaps that’s a function of maturing, but I think fairly objectively true contemporarily — seem to keep growing. It’s simply not possible to fulfill the cultural obligations to which I feel obliged. I haven’t watched Breaking Bad, nor have I read Being and Event, though I feel deeply that I must do both, and I want to. I haven’t listened to Lil Wayne or played Call of Duty. I haven’t tried to cook a soufflé yet. I know jack shit about wine or spirits (beer, on the other hand, I am well-versed in). These are things I need and want to know about, I just don’t know where to find the time. I can barely manage to keep up with literature and politics, my two supposed fields of expertise.
