Nihilism Series B
The true nihilist does not write. Writing is optimistic, because it requires someone to read, and not worth the excuse of the diaries, although that is a different player from the writer, and never when you re-read the rule applies to the ego is another. The true nihilist can not believe in the possibility of understanding, or by writing nor through oral expression. Because the oral expression is clumsy attempt to fix a thought of the faster, and the writing hand, with his time, is nothing but a fraud. Zarathustra would never have to speak, because I think the only one of the nihilist should be silence, and the maximum that should be granted is solipsism. Maybe I still have some hope of avoiding the abyss, but when I look at the abyss and the abyss looks into me, he sees my eyes, but I do not see her.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
How Much Does A Visor Cost
Elsewhere
Sometimes I wonder what use to take stock of the situation, put on paper what I do, what I do. Nobody cares, after all, a life neither better nor worse than the other, sometimes completely anonymous. This step so light that leaves no trace, but so heavy as to be tiring sometimes.
Also, I struggle to find meaning. The internship is almost over now, and start addressing the problem of how to pay this month's rent. I started to work on Sunday, and now three Sundays, including Easter are behind a booth at the Musée d'Orsay. Not just yet, but it is a start. The problem is that I still can not understand what is the beginning.
In fact, when the tightening grip of the bad thoughts I once again unfulfilled total rush and I wonder what am I doing here, we want to do, what is the goal, if this objective is. Loneliness is just around the corner ready to expect from old companion unobtrusive which you have to pay duty from time to time. And then I feel alien to this city, other than those, my friends, to the world. And I would almost go away in a hidden place where being a foreigner really forced to choose between the constant concern of those seeking a bit of socializing, and the knowledgeable and confident self-exclusion. Because if anything I have said I defined or antisocial or misanthropic, truly a voltage to the contrary, very human though surly, through me, and not at all satisfied with the result always somewhere else to live than others who are here with me , unrelated to any place, situation, person.
Sometimes I wonder what use to take stock of the situation, put on paper what I do, what I do. Nobody cares, after all, a life neither better nor worse than the other, sometimes completely anonymous. This step so light that leaves no trace, but so heavy as to be tiring sometimes.
Also, I struggle to find meaning. The internship is almost over now, and start addressing the problem of how to pay this month's rent. I started to work on Sunday, and now three Sundays, including Easter are behind a booth at the Musée d'Orsay. Not just yet, but it is a start. The problem is that I still can not understand what is the beginning.
In fact, when the tightening grip of the bad thoughts I once again unfulfilled total rush and I wonder what am I doing here, we want to do, what is the goal, if this objective is. Loneliness is just around the corner ready to expect from old companion unobtrusive which you have to pay duty from time to time. And then I feel alien to this city, other than those, my friends, to the world. And I would almost go away in a hidden place where being a foreigner really forced to choose between the constant concern of those seeking a bit of socializing, and the knowledgeable and confident self-exclusion. Because if anything I have said I defined or antisocial or misanthropic, truly a voltage to the contrary, very human though surly, through me, and not at all satisfied with the result always somewhere else to live than others who are here with me , unrelated to any place, situation, person.
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