I don’t know I’ve reached something of an impasse. I don’t if I’ll quietly come to an impasse, find myself conflicted, and out of inertia or indolence, find myself going down the past of least resistance. I don’t mean to feel sorry for myself, althoughit often sounds like I am constantly moping when writing here.
I opened a language translator a few days ago, by accident, and the feeling was almost uncanny. I thought to myself that although I had once planned to set myself fervently on the path of learning a language, I’ve dropped the project more or less. I think about the possibility of moving, something I had my eyes set on… and I wondered whether my dreams would just recede further beyond the horizon, as I give myself over to all the exigencies of the moment. I wonder how many more days I could spend “building up for tomorrow”.
I see myself as… not exactly over the hill… not hopeless… but I know I feel my body ache and my skin hangs a little looser. I’m not as beautiful or radiant… yes radiant as I might have been in my youth.
I think about an aesthetic life… and I wonder if it’s possible here. Of course it must be… but what an oddity… like a spectre or perhaps more so, like a man on leave from some circus troupe still dressed with all the trimmings and adornments of the trade. And to have the strength, to ignore and tune out all the background noise and the chatter that might surround oneself… and to not be turned aside or lead astray by just any passing fancy.
I still try to think of something… I still search for something to believe on… some kind of loadstone that I could use to orient myself… something that might give direction to my life. I know and feel it’s a child in some sense… but from time to time… even this becomes something of a flickering dream, and I question whether I may be on this path, or if I might even find that this – what I might have a called a tepid dream when younger – has receded beyond the horizon, and become some lost opportunity.
The crisis of meaning is not behind, although more or less, I have managed to quiet a great deal of the day-to-day unease it used to cause me. And I’m not sure I can call that victory…
So what can I do about any of this? I sometimes look for that which intoxicates, or that which will numb me… lift me out of this general malaise or these feelings of ennui. What is the answer then? Something provisional of course – it barely needs to be said what. Something that I can fix myself on, something that can overwhelm.
Maybe I am working towards finding a wife.
Now that I have steady employment… it seems like my life might pass me by. I don’t know how or whether I’ve improved myself this year. I’ve lost one year of my life… although maybe I’m a little more employable, in a somewhat narrow sense. Again, I don’t see that as any great victory.
I seem to have run a little dry.
Till next time.