Monday, January 25, 2010
Fluoxetine Journal 25.01.10
Another day, yet not in jail and this is enough to be sated with life for the day, elated too. Tomorrow there might not be enough courage for such luck; I keep trying to read the signals of whatever powers that be into a sketch of a life, nothing more than a sketch. There keep coming in little shares, in little secrets, with little secrets, more faithful signals but there´s certainly no novelty in this… What defines my attitude the most at present is the fact that I´ve happened to abandon many happy moments of life, indicting them for inauthentic or false; this alongside the fact that I´ve this time abandoned in the most certain manner any attempt to right wrongdoings or to put myself together. I´ve gone along without deciding at all, carrying the heavy burden of my unrighteousness blended in together with the bitter feeling of certainty about the present and an outright lack of wonder. Lack of wonder is no miracle, but it murders all curiosity in one´s heart about the world. Some sweet chapters of my life returned fashioned by my own versions: My life with Yuval, which really seems uninteresting now, and my months at St. Simon & Anne´s House at the Rav Kook St. in Jerusalem. What´s this whole deal about me and Christianity from time to time? How can I call this radical desire for asceticism? There is probably not one bit of asceticism in me, I´ve blended with the world, turned myself in to it, in such a radical way as to lose everything mine. What a boring day to write. There´s something missing and it is not about fear or about people. It is something buried so deep inside that I can´t see it from here. Maybe it´s only a bitter lack of love, or not love even but excitement; perhaps this is what must come after philosophy but I still need to write philosophy, to try and understand even in the most futile manner, what´s surrounding me, this fascination for the unkind sides of life, my inability to fulfill my responsibilities with others. I must try and grasp some of it before I let myself be overtaken, and thus I can´t understand why I feel left at this early juncture with so much power to be set only against me, of my own will, I orchestrated all of my sorrow, perhaps because I couldn´t manage to let the reality of feelings handle me as forcefully as I would have wanted; love always failed too early or just didn´t succeed in reaching a head start. Am I directing this frustration about love endlessly against my own person? There seems to be pattern I try to walk out from, but without enough willingness and that´s why thoughts are still too poor as they fail to match the great height of my intellectual and narrative propositions. This could only mean that my thinking is not true in the purest philosophical sense and therefore hardly philosophical at all. I am not giving up though. I must strive for truth, but there´s no point if I don´t apply even minimally some standards of truth to my own life and so far for the last year I haven´t done this for one single day. And I don´t mean correspondence of facts with reality… My whole point is about honest attitudes.