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Wilde: “Your pardon shall be granted as you are
far too seasoned for argument. So tell me old
wanderer, what is it that you do with your life
besides breaking the beautiful silence men use to
see their reflection in drink?”

Plato: (Speaking triumphantly) “My name is, Plato.
My life's work is the understanding of the ideal, the
pure, and the universal truths. | am a ---"

Wilde: (Rudely interrupting) “Undergraduate
Journalist?”

Plato: (Now speaking in frustration) “Philosopher!”
(An uncomfortable silence follows for a short time)
Wilde: “Barkeep, | must trouble you for some
absinthe, and my new friend here will take a red
wine, preferably of the same vintage as he. He’s
been waiting longer than | have, after all.”
Barthes: (compliantly gives the men their respected
drinks and adds the purchase to Wilde’s tab.)
Plato: “Thank you, my boy. Now, tell me, how is it
you find meaning in life?”

Wilde: (Turning body towards Plato) “I do not wish
to bother my vanity, but | fear | must. | am Oscar
Wilde, a renowned poet and writer of great works
still studied, presented, and enjoyed to this day.”
Plato: (In smug disdain) “A pity.”

Wilde: (Showing an expression of shock) “Excuse
me?”

Plato: “You are excused, for you not know what you
have done. | viewed you to be an intelligent man,
but upon the discovery that you compare poetry
and writing to, ‘great works’, | must admit that my
conclusion in regards to your insight is incorrect.”
Wilde: “I fail to see your point, old philosopher.”
Plato: “What | am asking is how you can magically
find any value in a picture of a picture?”

Wilde: “It is complicated. However, | choose to
address a more urgent issue first.”

Plato: “Go on.”

Wilde: “I must admit that your retorts are surprising,
not because of their slanderous nature, but
because | do not understand how a man with your
knowledge would believe that poetry and writing
have no use. Have you spent your life shackled in
a cave?”

Plato: “At one point, yes, but | had freed myself.
| did so in my pursuit of understanding the ideal,
the universal truth. You, on the other hand, are still
within the very cave in which you speak, but fail to
realize the severity of your bondage.”

Wilde: (Stares perplexingly at Plato before fixating
his body back towards the bar) -
(Yet another uncomfortable silence)

Wilde: (Sarcastically spoken) “Tell me, what is it
you find so dangerous about writing and poetry?” -
Plato: “One fallacious concept at a time please.”
Wilde: “Ah, age before beauty. Why does the
concept of writing terrify you?”

Plato: “Where do | begin? In ancient Egypt, there
lived a ---"

Wilde: (Rudely interrupting) “Your use of rhetoric is
not necessary here, old philosopher. Between you,
|, and the barkeep, we are all scholars here.”
Plato: “Fine, have it your way. You would think a
delusional poet and writer would enjoy a simple
allegory. Writing is a crutch for knowledge to rest
indefinitely upon. When knowledge is transcribed
into word, the knowledge has exited the mind and
no longer has to be remembered. If knowledge no
longer has to be remembered, there is nothing to
drive an individual pursuit of truth.”

Wilde: “You are beginning to sound like my lost
friend, Ernest.” -

Plato: “Pardon?”

Wilde: “Please continue.”

Plato: “Now, since writing is a poison that leads to
forgetfulness, it ensures that knowledge becomes
stagnant, as it no longer exists within the brain.
No one can fully understand anything as the
knowledge has transferred from an ideal form into
the representational.”

Wilde: “Now, before | present my argument, please
tell me why poetry is as menacing as writing?”
Plato: “Poets, and the poetry they spew, pervert
the soul. They claim to understand the ideal, but
instead dupe the masses into believing that a
representation, or their “great works’, is the ideal.
They Know nothing of truth.”

Wilde: “You continue using the word ‘truth’ as if
you are the only one who understands its origins.
What do you know of truth?”

Plato: “| feared you would never ask. Truth is
universal. It is not dependent upon the concrete
forms of writing and poetry. Instead, truth can
only be achieved through dialectic reasoning. We
require the use of dialectic reasoning to reach truth
because through knowledgeable argument, all that
will remain is truth. Writing and poetry only pervert
the truth.

Wilde: | think the problem of truth is not in the
medium, as you so boldly claim, but in your belief
that the concept of the ideal is the purest form of
truth and can only be achieved through dialectic
reasoning.

Plato: Well | think you have been led astray.