nausea
I try to keep it secret when I'm reading something not related to what I should be reading (even from myself),
as if I were cheating on my subject(s) still.
But I've found that this guilt complex is inevitable.
I'm slowly getting the books I requested at paperbackswap in the mail, among which is Sartre's Nausea.
The introduction is also a brief introduction to existentialism.
viktor_exhumed gave a report for his thesis workshop a few weeks ago on a poem (that I absolutely don't remember, and didn't read through the whole thing) where I kind of recall that he reached some conclusions about the poet that were from a somewhat existentialist point of view.
I was telling him about it yesterday.
I'm posting some quotes here.
You know. To share.
Jaspers has written: "The non-rational is found in the opacity of the here and now... in the actual empirical existence which is just as it is and not otherwise." Why is it not otherwise? Why is it at all? What is this is-ness? Isn't it simply nothing, or rather Nothingness, the unknowable, indispensable Void? What could be more absurd, "non-rational," meaningless? The mind of man, which he did not ask to be given, demands a reason and a meaning - this is its self-defining cause - and yet it finds itself in the midst of a radically meaningless existence. The result: impasse. And nausea.
Man, beginning in the loathsome emptiness of his existence, creates his essense - his self, his being - through choices that he freely makes. Hence his being is never fixed. He is always becoming, and if it were not for the contingency of death, he would never end. Nor would philosophy.
From the introduction by Hayden Carruth.
And some nauseous quotes:
"This is what I have to avoid, I must not put strangeness where there is none. I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something."
"Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it anymore. My odd feelings of the other week seem ridiculous today. I can no longer enter into them."
I think this also speaks for the blogger generation.
More later. (Or not really.)
as if I were cheating on my subject(s) still.
But I've found that this guilt complex is inevitable.
I'm slowly getting the books I requested at paperbackswap in the mail, among which is Sartre's Nausea.
The introduction is also a brief introduction to existentialism.
viktor_exhumed gave a report for his thesis workshop a few weeks ago on a poem (that I absolutely don't remember, and didn't read through the whole thing) where I kind of recall that he reached some conclusions about the poet that were from a somewhat existentialist point of view.
I was telling him about it yesterday.
I'm posting some quotes here.
You know. To share.
Jaspers has written: "The non-rational is found in the opacity of the here and now... in the actual empirical existence which is just as it is and not otherwise." Why is it not otherwise? Why is it at all? What is this is-ness? Isn't it simply nothing, or rather Nothingness, the unknowable, indispensable Void? What could be more absurd, "non-rational," meaningless? The mind of man, which he did not ask to be given, demands a reason and a meaning - this is its self-defining cause - and yet it finds itself in the midst of a radically meaningless existence. The result: impasse. And nausea.
Man, beginning in the loathsome emptiness of his existence, creates his essense - his self, his being - through choices that he freely makes. Hence his being is never fixed. He is always becoming, and if it were not for the contingency of death, he would never end. Nor would philosophy.
From the introduction by Hayden Carruth.
And some nauseous quotes:
"This is what I have to avoid, I must not put strangeness where there is none. I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something."
"Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it anymore. My odd feelings of the other week seem ridiculous today. I can no longer enter into them."
I think this also speaks for the blogger generation.
More later. (Or not really.)