don’t . fucking . lose . sight . boy

seeks to reach out and touch, inappropriately, everyone in the room. Beneath the surface of the pages lurks an homonculus that seeks to digest its auteur, with or without taking care to segregate and protectorate the reader.

Death to our endless list of knitted friends!

—

“Trust no one so long as you live, boy. Not even me.”

Too many, sometimes. The loss of naivete is also, to some extent, the loss of normal social function, or at least the ability to engage in it (whether or not it actually inheres in one, which is a totally separate thing). I remember when I was with J— there were always so many things I wanted to post, largely because I couldn’t say them without causing earthquakes that I didn’t want to cause. But of course if talking causes earthquakes then so does posting. At some point in life you have to weigh the stifling sensation of having to keep your thoughts to yourself against the possibility that you will create even bigger unhappinesses that you absolutely don’t want to create.

There is an entire universe of “hidden” posts that never make it here. Someday after I am long dead, I sincerely hope that someone reads all of them. (I do keep all of this stuff archived as well.) The thought that these things that I meant to say will eventually be heard is beyond comforting to me. It is perhaps the happiest thought of which I can conceive.

It’s too bad we can’t read everyone else’s thoughts. This is less because I want to be able to read other peoples’ thoughts than because I want them to be able to read mine. By the way they react, I would know who was on my side and who wasn’t, who I could trust and who I couldn’t, much more than by simply reading their thoughts.

is a troubling thing in general, full of wicked-fast surprises and cosmic shifts for which one is never prepared. Tonight I am not prepared for anything. There are an infinite number of things I’d like to express, but I’m not really able to get any of them out, and they’ve all been said at varying times and places in the past anyway, so it begins to feel like repeating myself.

Not that repeating oneself isn’t also the stuff of life—it is.

—

Things I hate:

– sociality
– anti-sociality
– self-sufficiency
– interdependence
– religion
– atheism

—

Things in the world that I know for sure:

—

Things in the world that I don’t think I have any idea about:

—

The old inner conflict of the blog is back. :-/ The axiom of this inner conflict is that the things that need most desperately to be discussed and communicated are precisely those that can’t be because to do so endangers everything else in life.

The blog is thus a space of possibility that is, frustratingly, never fulfilled.

at which one has to decide whether to trust oneself or not. They are never comfortable and never happy.

Working like crazy on a paper since maybe just after noon. Before that I was at work. I had to get up at 6.00 to get there that early.

I will get up just after 6.00 in the morning tomorrow, too and will go to work until noon, then straight to school where I will work continuously until 6.00 in the evening, after which I’ll go to class until late, after which I’ll work some more.

I am clearly insane to have signed up for this sort of thing.