Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Of course everything is not okay. Everything is never okay. Everything can never be okay.
...just how self-absorbed everyone is. ... Ha, ha, “self-absorbed.” That is humorful because, in a literal sense, no one can be as self-absorbed as me, who doubts logically the existence of anything other than me. A distinction between everyone else and myself is that I do not believe that my chief interest—my self—is of interest to anyone other than myself. Why do I write? It is not to shock anyone with the comprehension of the very real possibility that I might be the only thing that exists; it is to shock someone with the comprehension of the very real possibility that she or he might be the only thing that exists.

What is even more shocking, indeed debilitating? The comprehension of the intractable fact that I do not and cannot know whether I am the only thing that exists. Is not the absoluteness of uncertainty terrifying? If you have faith in the existence of something—anything—beyond yourself, then this question does not apply to you. But if you are mercilessly rational, then the hopelessness of all-pervading unknowability must catch up with you. Faith is for the weak-minded. But who is strong-minded enough to accept knowledgelessness and unknowability? Baatar, the impossible hero of The Steppe, is sufficiently strong-minded... Baatar, who is, in all outward appearances, insane...

Monday, January 21, 2008

The question is not why did I forego the celebration. The question is why have I not shot myself in the head. We can argue that suicide is the assumption of responsibility for the circumstances and timing of your own death. How can we be content to leave the event of death to happenstance?

For how long will I continue to endure consciousness? Why have I endured consciousness this long?

There is the Skepticist/Baatarist dilemma that I cannot be certain whether my consciousness will end with the gunblast. To destroy my brain in the hope of ending my ukhaan would be to give in to irrationality, to place faith in the unprovable superstition that the perceived functioning constitution of seemingly material neurology is the source of consciousness. All that is and can be certain is that my ukhaan exists now. Such is the nature of existence, of life, of consciousness.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Sunday, January 6, 2008

“Two things cannot!” She looked down at the table. “Bread and water cannot share the same space.”
“Yes they can. It’s called soggy bread.”
“Earth and air cannot share the same space.”
“Yes they can. It’s called a duststorm.”
She stepped closer to me. “Two people cannot share the same space.”
“That’s called sex,” I said.
“You are wrong. Water cannot be a part of bread. Earth cannot be a part of air. You cannot be a part of me.”
“I’ll prove it to you,” I said. I cupped the base of her skull in my hand and closed her hair in my fist.
He went straight to the microwave. He opened the door of the microwave and pulled out the cat and dropped it to the floor. He crushed the cat’s skull under his bootheel, ending the beast’s misery as quickly as possible. He hadn’t noticed yet that he had burned both of his hands when he had grabbed the cat. He was furious.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

I'm not all here. I'm in little scattered pieces.
Acceptance of the Bundle Theory of Personhood eradicates any fear of death, for if death is occurring in every moment, then the final death is no change of state. Acceptance of the Bundle Theory of Personhood also eradicates any motivation to action, for if death is occurring in every moment, then what can ever be achieved?
What you term “success” is wholly the inducement of other people to give you things: to give you money, to give you love, to give you recognition. But what if other people do not exist?