I am willing to admit publicly that I have not read Kierkegaard,as I suppose there is no great shame in not having read everyone under the sun, but your writing makes me feel a little regret. Luckily the course of remediation is obvious. Another name on my reading list.

You know, what strikes me as I read this and as I read the previous post on Kafka, is that I would love you to turn a similar gaze on yourself (if possible) and write the equivalent post on Yahia Lababidi. This may be an impossible task indeed. But I see you putting so much credit in the works of these other men in shaping your own thoughts, and of course we do all stand on the shoulders of giants. But what of the human relationships in your life, the non-literary steps in your journey to the man and writer you are today? What are the thorns in your flesh? What are the regrets and the conceits and the desires and designs that drive you forward? Is it all really just driven by your literary forebears? Somehow I doubt this. I think perhaps this might give more context to your musings on these other authors. Maybe you are not the right person to write this. Maybe it is not possible to write an honest reflection on these topics when the subject is the self. I would still be interested in seeing you try my friend :)