An entry to pass the time
"Je ne vois rien, je n'entends rien, sans penser aussitot: qu'en dirait-elle? J'abandonne mon emotion et ne connais plus que la sienne. Il me parait meme que si elle n'etait la pour me preciser, ma propre personnalite s'eperdrait en contours trop vagues; je ne me rassemble et ne me definis qu'autour d'elle".
That's from the book I'm currently reading, 'Les Faux-Monnayeurs'. I rather like it: it's about a writer who leaves his girl without really understanding why, and then goes on to philosophise about it in the best French tradition. It was written in the mid-20s, at the height of the then-and-now popular trend of doubting established institutions and morals. So it's nice to see how the protagonist escapes marriage and any other sort of committment, and tries to rationally destroy everything he has been taught to see as precious. His thoughts are exhiliratingly full of freedom, but a strange sense of sadness hovers over it all..
Seeing as I have, after persistent effort, skilfully wrecked my only meaningful link with any person who is not of my family, I suppose I will use this journal a little more. I got it three (four?) years ago at the instigation of a girl, and it seemed like a really stupid idea. Now, lacking any other recourse, it seems less stupid.
Almost a year ago from today, I lost my dog, who has been with me throughout my childhood. I loved him in a unique way, in a way which it is not possible to love a girl: Whenever I loved women, it seemed like they were bringing in with them, right on top of my head, all the cultural woes of this rotten century. Romance and tears, and a whole lot of confusion. But he was just a victim: He never understood anything about the modern world. He was confused by it, scared by it, it was so far from the world he was born to understand, in which dogs go hunting and smell each other's behinds in their spare time. Maybe I could identify with him a bit.
A strange hardness is passing over my heart recently. Some things wrench terrible pity and affection out of me, but I finally prefer not to act upon them. A movie I saw recently made me think a lot: L'avventura by Antonioni. It's mainly about relationships, and the end is shattering. But what can I do? Life is so rich, so stimulating, and yet so multi-faceted and confusing, that I cannot help but feel that whatever I do, I will have thrown myself into a life sentence without a cell mate (that's from some song I heard now).
This has little or no coherence, but then, this is not really meant for any readers. Maybe I'll elaborate later, and perhaps not.
Good night.
That's from the book I'm currently reading, 'Les Faux-Monnayeurs'. I rather like it: it's about a writer who leaves his girl without really understanding why, and then goes on to philosophise about it in the best French tradition. It was written in the mid-20s, at the height of the then-and-now popular trend of doubting established institutions and morals. So it's nice to see how the protagonist escapes marriage and any other sort of committment, and tries to rationally destroy everything he has been taught to see as precious. His thoughts are exhiliratingly full of freedom, but a strange sense of sadness hovers over it all..
Seeing as I have, after persistent effort, skilfully wrecked my only meaningful link with any person who is not of my family, I suppose I will use this journal a little more. I got it three (four?) years ago at the instigation of a girl, and it seemed like a really stupid idea. Now, lacking any other recourse, it seems less stupid.
Almost a year ago from today, I lost my dog, who has been with me throughout my childhood. I loved him in a unique way, in a way which it is not possible to love a girl: Whenever I loved women, it seemed like they were bringing in with them, right on top of my head, all the cultural woes of this rotten century. Romance and tears, and a whole lot of confusion. But he was just a victim: He never understood anything about the modern world. He was confused by it, scared by it, it was so far from the world he was born to understand, in which dogs go hunting and smell each other's behinds in their spare time. Maybe I could identify with him a bit.
A strange hardness is passing over my heart recently. Some things wrench terrible pity and affection out of me, but I finally prefer not to act upon them. A movie I saw recently made me think a lot: L'avventura by Antonioni. It's mainly about relationships, and the end is shattering. But what can I do? Life is so rich, so stimulating, and yet so multi-faceted and confusing, that I cannot help but feel that whatever I do, I will have thrown myself into a life sentence without a cell mate (that's from some song I heard now).
This has little or no coherence, but then, this is not really meant for any readers. Maybe I'll elaborate later, and perhaps not.
Good night.