2011.12.13

by J C W

So.

 

Death.

 

If I don’t find a way.

 

If I don’t find a purpose, a direction, a line, a will…

 

Some goal,

 

Some self-image.

 

If only

 

“Death”

 

was true…

 

If only it was really there.

 

If only the risk was It,

 

And not

 

Mediocrity

Laziness

Self dissolution…

 

That would be ‘easier’…

Painful…

But clear at least…

 

Self-indulgence…

The ugliest part of myself…

 

*

 

I would like to be able to read complete works

 

Finish Badiou

Deleuze

Lacan

 

Then analytic philosophy

 

And also

 

Plato

Aristotle

Descartes

Leibniz

Spinoza

Kant

 

Fichte

Schelling

Hegel

 

 

Read novelists…

 

Read Murakami, to have a better opinion.

Read Bolaño…

 

Read the poets…

 

René Char.

Valéry…

 

Rilke, Trakl, Celan…

 

Some Russians…

 

So many things…

 

I have no impulse…

I see vastly, I am paralysed.

 

Nothing can be done…

 

I might need to forget the sight…

And just do.

Somehow…

Find a way to do.

 

That’s the ugly thing.

 

Do.

 

I am just like bloody Montaigne…

Free, free, free…

Almost suffering from this freedom.

 

I need to manage to organize my mind.

Put reins…

 

shit.

 

I need to get smaller.

To cure myself from this ‘grandeur’ thing.

A true, absolute poison.

 

Because it prevents me from doing anything…

 

It prevents me from existing.

 

Absence of discipline.

 

On the other hand, strangely, I live a bit better these days…

Than before, when I applied this discipline unto myself.

 

That’s probably the thing.

I need to change my perspective.

Instead of seeing myself as a lazy prick in need of discipline,

I might wonder why, in some cases, I have more energy than I know what to do with,

And why in other cases I am utterly unable to do anything…

 

I am in real danger, though…

I have been taken by procrastination, etc.

 

Simple: because I don’t see any hope of being truly integrated into this system…

I don’t see how to manage the situation,

No ‘way out’, nothing ahead…

Everything broken: my energy source, my belief in myself, etc.

All broken.

 

Not the ‘inner one’, however.

But the idea that I might ‘succeed’ in this context.

Hence, impossibility to study, impossibility to do any kind of progress.

Impossibility to engage.

Simple again: because it would mean becoming mediocre, yielding, accepting to be a slave, etc.

I cannot.

Die rather.

 

But that’s probably what’s happening…

I’m dying intellectually.

 

I can’t read a book, I can’t focus on a topic, I can’t write a sustained argument, etc.

 

Slight stomach/back ache coming back.

 

Predictable.

 

Tumblring like mad…

Irrationally…

As if it was a solution..

As if I could hope for anything with this…

I can, in a way…

There is a strange, uncanny path, through Tumblr.

A truly Acheronous path.

 

Getting down there is extremely dangerous.

Extremely, extremely dangerous.

 

Nota bene:

people see the global result of the blog only at specific times.

When they discover it, when they return to it.

But many times they only see the content of what you are posting.

On their dashboards.

Or they see the archive view, because they are browsing through ancient entries.

Content, in those cases, is the only thing that matters.

 

*

 

Read.

Read how?

 

Very, very difficult.

 

What the hell am I going to do…

In this life?

All those bloody ‘geniuses’…
They all seem to be, well…

sure of themselves…

 

I hate them.

 

I’ve rather been…

Less and less sure…

With years…

 

Less and less sure…

 

Always, always more dissolved, more vague..

 

Losing focus and energy,

Losing hope…

 

Is it true?

This scheme of descent is not entirely accurate…

 

There is a certain stability as well..

 

There are changes,

There are things which might be actually better now than before.

 

But truly,

I am still

Nothing.

 

Invisible,

In-existent,

Mediocre,

Not even mediocre: simply nothing.

A hole.

(Lacking this necessary ‘w’)

 

And

Stardom, celebrity,

Is the only answer…

 

The canon, of course.

Celebrity in the long run.

Celebrity as an authentic, intrinsic thing.

People spit on fame and worship the canon.

As if those were two ontologically distinct things.

They are extremely close to one another…

One is ‘true’, the other ‘fake’ celebrity.

Grounded versus unjustified…

 

So.

The only possible way to exist

As an artist, a writer, a thinker, a scientist, etc.

Is through canonization.

Otherwise there is no meaning.

Or, that is to say: just a vegetative, silly, inferior life…

 

I guess I should not despise this life.

That’s precisely what I am far, far too unable to do for myself.

Be this calculated, regular person.

Be this functional worker.

 

Maybe that’s just what I lack…?

Maybe if I were to reach that level, that discipline,

Those silly mind problems I have would, well, disappear…

 

Maybe I would finally get some peace…

Find myself less empty, less despicable…

 

 

*

 

The thing is, of course,

To find true discipline…

To find an anchor, something…

 

Now I’m all, well… disoriented…

 

I need to find goals

 

And the goals I have for myself are usually, well, not well defined…

 

For instance:

“read Deleuze!”

 

Idea: now I tell myself I should be more nuanced, and, say, reformulate in this way:

select from Deleuze!”

i.e. go and dig into Deleuze, and see if you find things of interest to you, something that

Echoes your desire,

That helps it getting bigger, sharper, more intense

 

Same for Badiou.

I was lucky to find amazing things in Badiou right away, without searching for it.

 

But obviously there are plenty of things which I don’t really like…

 

The whole thing is, as usual, this expectation of something great…

I want extreme, incredible, passionate experiences…

In reading, that is…

Everywhere, actually..

In reading, writing, thinking…

In listening to music as well..

In sexual relationship (that’s why, I guess, I’m so bad at seduction..)…

 

Un trop plein de désir qui me mène à l’échec…

 

*

 

I guess if I could find

Good reasons

To be a ‘critic’…

Well, then…

I might be happier, and more efficient… in this life?

 

But I can’t.

 

It’s inferior.

 

Impossible to yield to that.

 

It is too far away from life…

 

Or, precisely, the thing should be …

Considered differently…

 

Maybe I just suffer from this backward thinking of mine…?

A hidden ugliness?

 

Backward thinking: critics are inferior, the true work is done by artists, writers, philosophers, etc.

 

I have no clue.

 

But it is true that I suffer a lot from this feeling of inferiority…

 

This feeling that I am nothing.

I am no musician, no real writer or philosopher…

Nothing…

 

And the idea of ‘commentary’ is so ugly…

The idea of being, well… a critic…

Just like all those silly dull guys writing always the same articles on musical or literary figures…

So sad, so sad…

A true death for the mind, for the heart, it seems to me…

 

But maybe it’s the opposite…?

Maybe it is my mind that is dead…

And I’m just too silly to understand those texts,

Too ‘far away’ from the problems to really engage with them…

(especially in cases where criticism gets jargon laden and highly specialized…)

 

What can I do?

 

Where can I go?

 

There is really no direction…

 

I would do well to … explore this place more…

Try to make contacts…

See who is good, who could inspire me…

 

*

 

Still enclosed.

Still in prison…

Still a slave…

 

Voice: of myself.

 

That might be true.

 

Slave of myself.

Enclosed within myself.

 

Impossible to get out…

 

Destroyed, before even having seen the world…

 

Or simply not, and I should stop whining…

 

Not a single step of work done…

 

Totally, utterly lost…

 

I pay the fucking price…

 

I pay the price of this ugly, ugly inferiority,

Of all those self-betrayals…

 

Now how to fucking get out of this situation?

 

Am I, in any thinkable way,

When I do this?

 

*

 

I am now stronger, at least, in some points:

I can say, for instance, that I disapprove the aesthetic turn(s) of many works of the XXth century.

I guess I can admit that those were necessary turns (the relationship to the war, to extremisms, is crucial).

Yet, it is so sad, so harsh, so dark.

I don’t want that, or not to that degree.

 

The ideal would be something else.

And not this bathing kitsch that rules everywhere…

 

*

 

If I stay in this bloody situation, well…

There will be nothing

No help coming…

 

If I don’t decide

If I don’t get to it, and do things

Then the world will go on, and I will die.

No one can do anything for me.

 

I am the only one to be able to decide…

The only one able to make this step.

 

Probably the hardest in my whole existence.

 

I have to create my own self.

 

I have to find a way…

 

 

*

 

And now, what do I do…?

 

I listen to music…

 

Again…

 

Ok…

 

Does it really help me?

 

I guess… just a little

 

It’s not enough.

 

It’s NEVER enough.

 

Things happen, but always… slightly

 

No real change… no profound transformation…

 

Shit, shit, shit…

 

I’m better, but only superficially

 

Which means, well, that I’m only superficially less in danger…

 

And I should force myself doing this job I have…

Stop procrastinating, bloody hell…

 

*

 

Other music(s) ?

 

Janacek,

Kodali

Bartók

 

?

 

Big unknown continents there…

 

And of course the ‘conservatives’:

Henze

Dutilleux

 

?

 

Maybe…

Hartmann…?

 

That’s a lot…

 

And strengthen the Viennese,

Schönberg/Berg,

 

as well as the previous generation, Mahler/Strauss…

 

*

 

Fuck fuck fuck

I’m not going anywhere…

 

Devil…

 

Tumblring… with great addiction…

 

And yet, of course, I can see very quickly… the limitations!!

 

It’s not big deal…

 

Limitations, for instance: if you limit yourself to your dashboard, you don’t go very far.

What you need to is browse, browse, browse through blogs constantly…

I guess through flickr as well, if I were to go next level.

Browse, go through things, and select, select, select…

 

Easy, actually.

 

I could do that for hours…

 

I do that for hours

 

The thing is, of course…

Where does this lead?

 

At least, contrary to academic shit, I feel more in flow…

It’s very easy…

I guess… that’s because, well, it is more easy…?

It is inferior

 

??

 

Always this idea… this lack of self-confidence

 

I could also say to myself that … blogging is actually livelier, a younger form, with a much brighter future, etc.

 

Maybe…

 

Always this tension within myself…

 

I don’t see any real solution…

 

No, no solution…

 

I want to study… That’s the thing.

 

I don’t want to have my mind shut, learning nothing…

 

*

 

This big fucking problem in academia…

 

Critics and historians tend to be very modest, in the bad sense of the term…

Not only are they overly modest, but they tolerate the lack thereof in their little protégés.

 

They always put themselves under the people they study…

Unbearable…

 

Two things:

 

  • first, if I manage to get rid of this inferiority, that could be a start. i.e. read/listen to without feeling inferior
  • second, with the first one acquired, I might feel free to create something of my own!!!

 

Interesting…

 

A bit like those philosophers I admire…?

Deleuze, Badiou…?

 

The thing is, of course, to manage to get rid of this inferiority thing…

 

How do you do that??

 

I guess you can work on that.

 

How?

Well, in a specific work method:

first of all, you need to be very picky in what you learn.

 

You need to learn only through what reinforces you.

 

And if/when you are strong enough, then learn what is more costly.

 

That is, find proper challenges,

Learn from people who offer resistance.

 

Like, say,

 

Go for Boulez, Carter, Ferneyhough, Birtwislte, once again.

 

*

 

hem…

no internet…

 

no access to the bloody addiction…

 

which means, actually…

 

no access to a flow activity…

 

devil, devil, devil…

 

there is no solution in this world…

 

in my mind, silly.

 

There are solutions everywhere…

 

you just don’t see them…

 

 

*

 

Write…

At least I’m supposed to know how to do that…

 

I might want to ‘forbid’ this bloody tumblr…

 

And try to adapt to this environment…

 

make the best out of it?

 

 

I feel so lost…

 

I don’t see any fucking way…

 

any way

 

Profound despair, profound, profound, profound despair…

 

Even if I’m ‘ok’, now…

It’s because of this tumblr thing…

 

A fury…

 

A hope to ‘get out’…

 

And yet nothing seems to be of any avail…

 

Everything is closed…

 

Is it really?

 

I wish it was not…

 

I am closed, then…

 

Me.

Only me.

Silly creature.

Enclosed being…

 

Nothing, just emptiness…

 

No way out.

 

No way to disappear into anything

 

As if my imagination was dead…

 

That’s what I might want to wake up…

 

My imagination…?

 

This ability to produce worlds…

 

To compensate for this lack…

For the absence of any real world…

 

For its poverty, cruelty, mediocrity…

 

 

I should also try to be much, much more imaginative in my own creation…

 

*

 

Research…

 

Maybe what I should do is…

 

Try it… differently?

 

With more freedom?

 

I feel really a bit silly… not to be able to research properly…

 

Not to be able to read, assimilate…

 

I really feel inferior…

 

I feel broken,

 

I feel incomplete…

 

Just a shit…

 

 

And on the other hand…

I feel superior…

I feel so much of what I ‘can’t’ read

I actually avoid because it is intrinsically silly and inferior

 

shit, shit…

 

So I just avoid it..

 

To avoid losing my soul…

 

But if it’s not academia…

 

What could it be?

 

[a few beautiful things in Henze… at least he is not disconnected from his emotions!!]

[same thing as for Dutilleux, I guess…]

 

If it’s not academia, then…

 

Where could I go?

What could I do?

 

I feel completely lost…

On the verge of … death, let’s face it…

 

Completely lost…

 

And old, old, old…

 

No solution ahead, not at all…

 

All those dreams, all this ambition…

 

What am I to do with this?

 

Life is short…

 

Maturity should already be ahead, as the ‘next step’…

 

And I feel I haven’t started at all…

 

shit, shit, shit…

 

 

*

 

LOL I totally see why people despise Henze…

And I can see why I might agree less and less with them…

 

A bit like Grisey respecting Dutilleux, whereas everyone else would just think he was a retrograde shit…

 

*

 

I really see myself

As being without any future,

Any solution, any hope

 

A broken shit…

Dysfunctional waste…

 

How do I get out of this?

 

Terrible… I see the mechanism:

 

somehow there is something that prevents me from realizing myself.

it’s an absolute taboo…

which means that what now my “desire” is getting more and more extinguished…

I cannot desire, because if I do, and I express it,

People might actually get to help me realize it.

And that’s what is taboo, what cannot happen.

 

Why, fuck, why?!?!

 

Always the same…

 

I forbid myself to compose, to write, to think (philosophy)…

 

I feel depressed as soon as I get close to the thing…

 

And feel ‘ok’ only when I do

Forbidden, or base things.

A blog, for instance…

Or a diary…

 

Only base forms are ‘free’…

 

Only base forms are allowed

 

The ‘great’ forms, on the other hand…

The respectable, the strong, the achieved, the profound, etc.

All this is absolutely impossible.

 

So strange…

 

*

 

And now even ‘reading’ seems really impossible…

 

In any case, well…

 

Why read?

 

I really can’t read for nothing…

 

It has to be connected

 

Read… with the intent of creation

 

Read only things that might… help you somehow, nourish you…

 

Academia, then, in a ‘sound’ way, would be:

study primary material that is really essential to you;

study secondary sources that help you access more essentially to those primary materials…

 

I guess that would be something.

 

Just like, hem, in the Game:

go seduce and fuck

read and discuss in order to seduce and fuck more/better…

 

Always, always,

My problem seems to be

The basis

 

The first layer…

This is what is not really well in place…

This is what obsesses me constantly…

 

The first, absolute relationship to music…

 

 

I really don’t see how I could not die

 

On the other hand, well…

There is at least one other option…

 

The one considering that

Without ‘academia’ behind my back all the time,

This burning energy I get so easily

(Say tumblring)

Could be free, could be true…

 

I see that it is something amazing…

The ability to work for hours and hours on end…

Simply because, well, it’s not work!!!

Or, depending on the definition, it’s true work!