From the "Preface" of Albert Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus:
"For me 'The Myth of Sisyphus' marks the beginning of an idea which I was to pursue in The Rebel. It attempts to resolve the problem of suicide, as 'The Rebel' attempts to resolve that of murder, in both cases without the aid of eternal values which, temporarily perhaps, are absent or distorted in contemporary Europe. The fundamental subject of 'The Myth of Sisyphus' is this: it is legitimate and necessary to wonder whether life has a meaning; therefore it is legitimate to meet the problem of suicide face to face. The answer, underlying and appearing through the paradoxes which cover it, is this: even if one does not believe in God, suicide is not legitimate. Written fifteen years ago, in 1940, amid the French and European disaster, this book declares that even within the limits of nihilism it is possible to find the means to proceed beyond nihilism. In all the books I have written since, I have attempted to pursue this direction. Althought 'The Myth of Sisyphus' poses mortal problems, it sums itself up for me as a lucid invitation to live and to create, in the very midst of the desert."
I find life in suburban Ohio to be a contemporary manifestation of life in the desert...barren, arid, unrelenting and oppressive psychological heat. The relief of deep and interesting conversation with anything simulating regularity...the relief of intimate relationships within which one feels understood...the relief of others around taking existential risks to understand Reality in all its facets and to create new realities based on these existential experiences plumbed in depth because of the vulnerability of these risks taken...these reliefs do not exist for me. There is not even a drop of cold water for my parched and bleeding lips. My suburban life is life in a desert. My suburban life is constant repetition of seemingly meaningless acts...waking at 5:15am, washing dishes, preparing breakfast, walking the dogs, mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, shoveling the snow, paying bills. And on and on and on. Even the process of making art on a daily basis assumes this character. And yet I desire to create. And given that I live in a suburban desert it is in this suburban desert that I must create. I must accept the invitation my being offers me to create despite needing to mow the lawn once again. Suicide is an unacceptable option despite the overwhelming absurdity of the circumstances.