CUUUUUUUUUUNT. Compelled twice to blog away the pain. Dinner with her. Bad. Well, I exaggerate. But not good. I'm just a fucking spasticwit. Truly, I am upset. FUCK. Back now at home with nothing but the gloam of the computer screen, the lone of the voice, the utter abeyance that results when one realizes that it's too much to call os TMWP, for the first two words misrepresent mightily the state of affairs. For I am outis, Meon. Yes; when MC be MC in this blog, and a definite description of me be TMWP, so hereafter i'm not Watt, for that suggests an interrogative, and we know from Heidegger that Dasein aka TM is the interrogating animal, and I am not TM, therefore just Meon. Better of course would be or even to refuse to use the indexical consisting entirely of the first letter of indexical.
But such philological pleasanteries cannot console me now. For what has been realized is the crushing of the hopes which malgre moi-meme I must and had to continue to cherish. Now nothing. For opportunities will not present themselves again this week, or the next x weeks. And this will almost inevitably, when i reread this in 6 or so weeks, prove to be the case.
And it may seem stupid, indeed it is, adolescently so, but at present I have the sense of the utter aphorismenos eis dusangelion eatou. That there is no overseeing providence, nor failing that a rhyme or reason. Again, let me reiterate that one shouldn't judge these learian thoughts a) on their cause b) until one has leered the kelch. For christbechristed Christ but I - am - trying. The ease , my god, the ease of others. What to do? a) tonight b) the next x days. Ultimately what can I do? This fit will pass and scab, the slight trails will be lighted up again; when I go out at present I'll begin the process of analysing the black box in my head ( unpack the metaphor yourself). I'll most probably convince myself of something, a tokenlet, like a universe that takes away all and leaves a watch on a dessert for shits and giggles (k, this is overly obscure). Imagine, tho you don't know what I look like, a camera above me slowly zooming out, to me becoming eventually a speck, an ant like apparently appears in the film the third man. Ah fuck it, i can't be bothered no more. Fuck you, cosmo!