mumblings

i am losing it.

I am now lost in a labyrinth; forever finding self in the same spot, same situation, same characters but different faces. It’s like a big orgy or party, all that happens just passes by like a blur: and you only get a lousy hang over after.

Past a quarter century nearing (writing) thirty.

Life’s fast becoming a dog life with everyday humdrum drearies juxtaposed with the sweltering heat, low salary, a-slave-like-work schedule, insomnia, and unconsummated fantasies. It is easy to pass up as normal — as long as you can keep your farts in.

That’s how a dear friend summed his new dictum: Never hold your farts in. It travels up your spine on to your brain, resulting to shitty ideas.

Right.

I remembered Milan Kundera’s “Unbearable Lightness of Being.” The way he dissected Nietzsche’s Eternal Return was pretty enlightening, considering the emotional quagmire I am in now; either buries me or uplifts me.

First “The myth of eternal return states that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return, is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing.”

And…

“If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens (das schwerste Gewicht).”*

Remembering how Tomas was where in the beginning of the story, I can’t help but think was he so right at that moment. He has all the reason to be wrong or right, whatever he would have decided later on. He has the benefit of the first choice. It’s like the old adage “Cross the bridge when you get there.”

Well I did crossed bridges, went back (even slept on the bridge)…

Haha!

So if I am to be put in Tomas shoes, it will be like the third or fourth time now; always getting in circles, never knowing where to go. It’s like tasting the apple knowing what it will taste like and still pondering on the next time how will it taste like.

I should stop right now before somebody kills me.

*From Milan Kundera’s Unbearable Lightness of Being.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006