Posting in the afternoon. Strange. The mechanism of the atmosphere is ticking and I am listening to it; I am receptive. I am increasingly angry at all of the things that I have purchased to help me; I react to my professors and my papers and my thesis with boredom, distaste and disgust. I asked for these things. I have been given these things. I would like to kill these things. Obviously they exist merely to upset me.
Me.
My head still doesn’t feel right. I am a hostage to myself and my ancestors.
—
I have seen this moment before.
Not willing to concede it and
not willing to countenance it,
I am a child of unimaginable power
and resolve;
No. In this, I am not alone,
the rumble of my consciousness
another note in the endless hum,
another wide-eyed moment in the —
.
But I am mine, pleased
to have had a stepping-stone,
and the scale of deliberation
is waiting on me.
I am mine.
Take the first risk?
No. Do you wonder if —
Ich gehe jetzt?
In the evening child,
it is a lonely,
lonely world.
Ich gehe jetzt.
—
I just don’t know. I really don’t.