Ach, du scheissiges blutscheisser. So I gots to - horrendum, given the sequel, dictu - liking another girl, for a couple of weeks, too young for me but I thought reciprocated, only for her to drop, mild und leise, that she'd a boyf, on thursday. I mean, lol. Any large scale thought about the prevalence of unluck of love of me breeds thought of fate. But no, just as is. And this surge of pain i've responded to v badly, w analgesic and hypnotic, and gps, to use an occluded wattic shorthand, and short inhalations and exhalations accompanying me, despaircum. It's a 4 o clock sunday afternoon, and i'm hypnotised, tired and hotfaced, having unsuccessfully tried to dull away the anxiety consequent on drinking coffee and travelling. And this particular vista on a life's not fine: tired and empty, hopeless, in fremder land, specifically without hope of love, as the term gets to wheedling to a close I think the hauptausdruck of this blog must needs once more be coined: I can't go on, I'll go on.
So, my buddhism fails in the path of proper pain, where warming pills dare to tread and deaden. But karma? I think I guess I felt karma would be good if god wouldn't, forgetting karma, in the form where it'll take many lives, perhaps, to get your reward, that is the only form that'll save the phenomena, is just another name for god, that theoretical posit posited to make sense of proper pain.
So what's the plan for the day, the week? I need to get back on to terra firma. Do not, tonight, go gentle into that dulled night, but rage, rather, tho it be dolourous, tho let the senses be somewhat draped, we're no hero, no, no hero. And then tomorrow, you, mache dich mein Herz rein, or'tleast reiner, and eat vegetables, and don't think masturbatory thoughts, and work, and don't dull or live to dull.
***
A few days later...
Well, it's kind of melancholic in my wonted way that I am, this evening. Tho i shouldn't be, really. I have what could be considered a date tomorrow, tho I'd have to imagine it won't be, and she'll be married, or just wanting a friend, and I'll trundle back here sad. But maybe not. And I'm such a spa, I'm almost in exactly the same position i was last term, where there's a normal girl who's unattainable and unsuited to me qua normal, and beboyfriended, and a not so normal girl (potentially) in to me, and I absolutely, positively, cannot mistake the mistake I made last time, of trying to turn the unturnable, and focus on the attainable, whom I think's really special, and perhaps just scarily, unfathomably deep, and funny, and bright, with a really good look. I mean, what's not to like? And moreover I know she'd just be so receptive of who I am, qua alcoholic. And in fact the same pattern recurs in my life, of wanting the unattainable and not the attainable. Can I reverse engineer myself suitably, that the faulty bit of code causing this be corrected?
And look at this, 17 I think occurences of the reflexive pronoun in a small passage, absurd considering that the self doesn't exist, the 'I' doesn't refer. All there is is this evening, and all these simply dumb, empty fantasies that I waste my time on - and I'm somewhat altered, on account of pain - do you really want to know what i've been thinking? Coz it's been truly, truly fucked. I've been thinking of our having sex so I could tell my friend that we had sex; of our having a relationship so other people could think that I was having a relationship. So it's all exteriority, and I'm entirely forgetting this is about another person, that is, and is out there, and is not a mirror of a monadic I, is not constituted by the amatory concepts and erotic forms of the understanding. How wrong do I think? I mean this girl is special, and I guess last term with Polyhymnia, my concern was entirely that MC satisfied the propositional function "I am going out w x" better, qua fact about me. And that's just wrong. So let's think. There's a girl; should I give her a name? Let's say meadow. Right, and she's too young, and just one of those friendly sorts, thus not into me, and moreover normal. But qua normal here company's easy. I need to just excise the possibility, to remove her from my thoughts.
But more than that, I need to just forget about myself. There is this night, where the wind it howleth, and that's all there is. Tomorrow will occur, and think, god damn you watt, take the opportunity to connect to another person and don't be thinking past oneself.
And be nice, and charming, as you can be, and hope that this girl'll be receptive, and if she isn't she isn't. You're improving constantly.
