(no subject)
Who would have known this would have been how it would have ended up. The world become too large, too populous, too long lived... to sustain much meaning beyond what can be contained by staring directly at my feet. Well, I suspect it was waiting for me all along. Yes... well.
On other fronts I seem to have few friends lately. A symptom, I am only partially assuming, of my losing any real interest or investment in the notion of friendship. I am sustained by my new job as a photographer and my immediate family. I don't mean by this that I am alone. I have friends still, but they have now receded in my affections to the scattered, incidental loyalties I would have otherwise attributed to acquaintances. There is in me some small regret, or loneliness, or sorrow but beyond that the distance I find myself at from the world seems more its doing than mine, and a condition that in the end I don't all that much mind. I find myself far more lightly engaged with the world, capable of small, light-hearted niceties and friendliness that produce a superficial engagement with those at work for instance but in my heart I recognize this as fundimentally oportunistic. Sometime I wonder where if anywhere it will take me. I was going to say though, that this condition has a number of causes. The first is the self containment or self-sustainment of my family. I know from long experience that people overcome whatever initial inertia of small differences, indifferences, or distances to embrace one another in relationship only at the necessity of some solitude, insufficiency, or absence. People in relationships are essentially unavailable to the exploration required for forming new friendships. But also I recognize in my growing diffidence a symptom of something I read or overheard somewhere about death and ageing. Vaguely remembered it was the idea that the approach to death we call ageing is essentially a gradual process of becoming solitary - all the way up to that ultimate solitude we must all experience at the moment of our death.