Postmodern philosophy is the mycelium from which the toxic fungi of skepticism, sarcasm, deconstructionism, ironic politeness, and self-aware apologies emerge. These are nourished by a distrust of grand narratives and a single-minded pursuit of power in human interactions. Postmodernism has also been described as modernism with the cheerfulness taken out.
Marvin shuffled to the porch, coffee in hand, to greet the sun like an old war buddy. “Still fighting the dark, eh?” he’d mutter. One dawn the chair rocked empty, but the sunrise, bold, seemed brighter, as if saluting him back. Light poured down–and the day stood in silence, remembering.
A concussion leaves Guido unable to speak in the past tense. One day a sinister-looking man in a pizzeria hears him say, “I get the stromboli when I’m here last week.” The man, a local mobster, thinks Guido is in witness protection. When Guido leaves the store, the man follows.
Each evening, Margaret set two plates for dinner—one for her, one for the silence. The chair across remained empty, untouched since Henry’s passing. She spoke aloud anyway, clinking fork to porcelain, pretending. Outside, the world moved on. Inside, time gathered quietly. Her only companion the frozen echo of remembered laughter.