Monologue

How did I get here, weaving in and out of reality – past, present, future, interwoven? I doubt this is what Heidegger meant by actualization. No, I’m a drone. But the first step is to recognize the problem. That’s clear. Whatever happened to “ignorance is bliss”?

This has been my main problem. Too much thinking. Not enough thought. Self-destruction by analysis. An analyzed destruction. Analyzing self-destruction is quite the hobby. This is why I often wonder if I have masochistic tendencies. I always wind up with the same answer: No.

Always. Except now. And maybe some other time. Always. No.

I haven’t always been this way; but I’ve always done this.

It’s enough to drive myself crazy. I’m not crazy really. At least I don’t think so. But then the first step is recognizing the problem. Every knows that.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. Did I ever? Is this even something I should question? Santino doesn't think so. Why question reality? Why question what is real? What the hell are you supposed to do with it afterward? Just discard it? He is right, of course.

How should I respond? Because it’s important to question everything? Because it will lead you to enlightenment through a very painful process of self-awareness? Because you must suffer? You must experience frustration, desolation, angst, complete and utter helplessness – smallness? Frederick Douglass never regretted learning to read, even though it only served to illustrate and heighten his bondage. Donne believed suffering brings us closer to God. Neitzche believed that we must all suffer to become fully realized.

Fuck Neitzche!

Who the hell wants to suffer? It seems I am surrounded by people who do. It seems, sometimes, I even do. But I do not. This I have already established.

I used to love logic. I still do. But my uncle’s friends no longer send me logic problems through the mail. Neither do they caress me and tousle my hair.

Q has moved back into my life (as if he ever left). Everything is so much easier in retrospect. If only we were dead and simply died to life.

You’d never guess I was once good at logic.

Already I’m confused and insecure. What is it that establishes a connection between furniture and love? Too much shared furniture, too little love. Isn’t that the fear? Furniture is good for fucking on as long as it belongs only to one person. No. As long as one party has no ownership. It can be both, but it must at least be one. I don’t know. A couple’s newly purchased bed is sacred, if only for a while. Maybe that’s it. You just have to purchase a new mattress on a regular basis – box spring and all.

I guess the idea is to focus on what I’m getting and not on what I’m not getting. Things need to exist independent of others. People need to exist independent of others. Actions need to exist independent of others. If you look for a hole, you will always find one. If you look for substance, it is always there. I have been trained to look for the hole. That’s what we learn in school, no? Look for the hole. But in life, we need to seek out substance and ignore the holes, until we fall right into one. Otherwise, we stand inert, cannot move, are frozen with fear, hole-anxiety, hole-o-phobia.

I should never have studied philosophy. And yet now I’m a stunted, stagnant fool. For I know nothing, but that which stops me. It’s as if I suffer detail amnesia and wholistic over-knowledge. Wholistic? No. Holistic.

I used to know things. I have learned things. Now I know nothing. But enough has remained for me to understand the holes, to be blatantly aware of the holes, and to nurture the over-whelming need to fill them, to find them and to fill them, to expose them.

How do you expose a hole. How do you expose nothing, nothingness. What an idle effort! My life is ridiculous. My efforts are ridiculous. My drives and needs are ridiculous. But they are mine.

You would think that I would be on an eternal knowledge-seeking rampage, but I keep falling into the holes. I’m stuck inside holes, staring at the emptiness, bleak, nothingness, waiting for knowledge to fall over me and bury me alive, waiting in fear, anxious, horror.

Knowledge has destroyed me, and I yearn for my destruction. If knowledge has destroyed me, only knowledge can save me. A little can be dangerous, a lot can be mortal, or a lot can save me. I would say we shall see. I should say we shall see. But we shall never know.

Little do we know.