Empty Days

Thursday, October 07, 2004



On having no will to live.

I tried to invent something to live for - bike-trips as a test of free will so as to be able to enjoy life again. But it wasn't enough - I am still incapable of inventing some goal I might want to work for. Creating opportunity is the name of the game. So far there are none - because I've been unable to work up a will to create some.

There is this splendid world out there and I can't live in that world - I can't step in. It has nothing to do with cars and houses, careers and bank-accounts, social success or holing out in the desert. It has to do with my inability to live for myself. The world per se is a piece of cake - it has trials and it has ugliness and it's dumb and violent and it doesn't like you necessarily. But all of this is a piece of cake - because the real life is in me - and that's where I can't live it. I am not at home in my own self - "knock-knock, nobody's in, return later". Can't step in. What the fuck...

I'd like to be Dick Cheney, let's say - in the sense that I'd like to make sense to myself. For good or for bad. This man is so bad - but he absolutely makes sense to himself, there is not a shred of doubt about this. Or I'd like to be that rapeful pedophile who's in jail now - I'd like to follow my call, just as much as that fuck followed his fucked-up call. I'd like to have no choice in being good or bad - on account of finally being what I am. Who the fuck that is happens to be in question. Perhaps I lack urgency - that violence in pursuing blindly what can only be known blindly. Perhaps I lack lust - and the sense of my finality. Perhaps I should force the open door for once at the risk of looking like a fool. Perhaps I am all wrong on account of everything and can't see the lie at the heart of my most holy truths. Perhaps.

The technique is apparently to find out what you want and go for it. That's where it doesn't work for me - I can't find out what I want in the first place. Or I don't want to find out what I want - at least it feels that way at times. Hilariously then, I first need to find out: why it is I do not want to find out what I want. Even more hilariously though, I am pretty sure there is no fucking way in the world I can actually find that out - without knowing already what it is I want. It does sound like a vicious circle - because everything about will is a vicious circle. It either exists or it doesn't. Like in magic: look, no bunny - abracadabra, here's your bunny.

Abracadabra...





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