Last day of this month to write, only now I realize to which extent the writing of that awful and rustic proposal came to mean something for mean something for me; I don´t like the proposal, it is a little bit hypocritical and limited, it is overflowing with theoretical flaws and is still so short of so many things but that´s not quite the point. I think it was yesterday that I wrote how much unprotected we are from “departmental philosophy” (to use the term from Thomas Hollweck) and how harmful it is. Parenthesis here: Cristina Figueroa told me once about the detrimental effect of philosophy for life: It destroys your teeth and your hair and your lips and your skin. What I mean now is just something like what I wrote in Katherina´s story about the bazaar; somehow after the proposal I am becoming again and for the first time in years reconciled with the present of my life, not in the sense of “this ain´t too bad” but more like I can live through this and actually attain some measurable index of earthly happiness. There´s the thought of madness and sickness all over, it is like I´ve spent what is supposed to be great years in a person´s life under the assumption that this is just a perennial and anxious wait of death. At least I´m more philosophically honest now and I´ve ceased to intellectualize how much I desire this life and this body and this world, how much messianic anxiety there´s in every negation and in every protest and in every counter statement. There seems to be absolutely nothing wrong with me and the constant headaches seem to be more nervous than they are physical but I feel so strained now; like I´ve waited all these years in order to produce a statement for my work before I could collapse into the reckless violence of eternity and thus of biology and now that this has been achieved, it appears as if I could just sit patiently and die.
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