Confession of a Luftmensch

I am a luftmensch. This Yiddish/Germanic term means air person, someone whose head is in the clouds. Luftmenschen are concerned with ideas, not logistics.

Logistics bore and depress me. I skip over the details to get to the conclusions. Why, not how, is my perennial question.

Society has no place for the luftmenschen. Rather, it has one place, the ivory tower. The ivory tower is full of self-hating luftmenschen. They cling to the notion that, through "Theory," they are changing the world. Marx, not Socrates, is their model. Truth? It's only meaning is as a political weapon.

Despite loathing the typical "radical," I do empathize with anti-capitalist sentiment. In the capitalist system, the luftmensch has no value. Money talks, and everyone else is as good as mute. This, of course, also applies to the realm of erotic capitalism.

Living on air is lonely. But when you've seen the ground from up high, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.