Post Conscious

24/07/3005
Time unknown

Full entry:

Fear is subjective but it evolves. When you are younger you fear much simpler things; the dark, silence and maybe the jungle. What does not kill us makes us stronger, but with this our fears also grow. My fears are almost invincible now. They have adapted the worst possible attribute for me to face … stealth.

I don’t know what my fear is or fears are. I assume there are many and I know they are there. I fear time when I think about yesterday or any other moment in time and I fear the unbearable future too because it is unthinkable. I fear the things I cannot think about. I fear space … how I long for it but fear emptiness. I fear words.

They creep on me when there is nothing. They catch me by surprise after something, or an event, and then create space for a void.

Sometimes I tell myself it is almost an illusion or a show. Almost like being absorbed in a good novel or play … living in that fictitious moment. It is an evoked emotion probably by virtue of the subconscious. But the more I tell myself this, the more my fears grow because they feed on reason. That is what I have learned.

I have to lose my reasoning and embrace this void.

DV.

With relatively exceptional methods of control everything that is thought to be (im)possible is the City of Paragon is mystified, symbolized and canonized for the rest of their lives. It is after all the fear of dreaming of Things That Should Not Be Mentioned namely Dangerous Ambitions. There is a meticulous approach towards a structural encapsulation of young generation into the flawless ideals of Paragonia (sometimes it is called this because it does sound more divine).

Witnesses (now missing) to this organized phenomenological reconfiguration have accounted for the subtle and rigorous methods used by The Society. Yes they do not call themselves by any means that allude to hierarchy. Who would want to remind everyone that Fairy Tales are not true? Not The Society, never them. Thus the name must denote a general consensus bar of any inequality (this by the way is blasphemous!*).

In the city, there is Freedom. This Freedom is sacred. This sacrosanct State of Affairs must persevere says The Society:

“We must make sure that Freedom is widespread. In order for it to permeate all, it must be controlled to ensure it’s equal distribution. Freedom for all.”

Imagine that … Freedom’s freedom is quantified, compartmentalized and distributed.

Welcome to Paragonia. In the City of Paragon people believe.

* Although of course the things that is the most forbidden is always the most widespread.

I find Sartre to be strangely accurate. I say strange because these are the things that are not supposed to be concerned with … accuracy.

I am alone in the midst of these happy, reasonable voices. All these characters spend their time explaining themselves, and happily recognizing that they hold the same opinions. Good God, how important they consider it to think the same things all together. It’s enough to see their expressions when one of those fishy-eyed men who look as if they turned in upon themselves and with whom no afreement is possible passes among them.

…

Objects ought not to touch, since they are not alive. You use them, you put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it’s unbearable. I am afraid of entering in contact with them, just as if they were living animals.

Now I see; I remember better what I felt the other day on the sea-shore when I was holding that pebble. It was a sort of sweet disgust. How unpleasant it was! And it came from the pebble, I’m sure of that, it passed from the pebble into my hands. Yes, that’s it, that’s exactly it; a sort of nausea in the hands.

(Based on an encounter)

You can’t move.
You can’t speak.
I don’t think you can see.
I wish I didn’t think you can feel.
But I know you can feel.

There you are sitting on what will be your chair for the rest of your life.

I don’t know how long that is and then my mind wanders down that way. I know it’s not today, tomorrow, this year or next year. When I think about it, it seems like a burden. It is true.

Somewhere in the future and distant.

Sometimes I feel I am there and I am looking at myself from above. Sometimes I feel I am myself and feel my pain. That pain is you.
Or I think you feel pain and I try to feel what you feel.
That itself hurts.

Then I think about what I would do if this is true.

At that moment,
I back away from this keyhole I peer through.
I look away very abruptly as if I had just seen something violent.

Now I’m here again and I look at you and the thought I just had.

I stand up and leave.

Listening to Hubert Dreyfus‘ Heidegger lecture to unwind this very long day.

Distraction(s) within distraction(s).

How do I communicate when the language I want to speak does not exist?

I tell them to read the books, poetry and ideas I read instead.

That is why we don’t have an understanding.

Here’s what I’m reading.

Sartre – Nausea
Camus – The Outsider
Gide – The Immoralist
Kafka – The Metamorphosis

Out of the 4, I really like Sartre so far.

I am now looking for Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, Doestoevsky’s The Brother’s Karamazhov and Beckett’s Texts for Nothing but I cannot find them here.

A nervous confidence.

?/?/3010 (date unknown)
2630 hours

First part of entry missing except a few lines at the bottom:

… most importantly I am stepping outside of …

… with such rigorous consciousness that I have considered leaving …

… yesterday I didn’t write about what …

Second part of entry starts here:

They are at it again. I am apprehensive about them. It seems like the thing called equality has extended beyond any imaginable boundary. There seems to be no more graves for names to be turning in too and I cannot make a cliche statement here. Everything has to go through the collective arbitration of humankind. (I don’t think we they should be called humankind). However it took a while for it to be called that.

Yesterday I tried to give my seat to an experienced person. I got the stares.

We have stepped into the nothingness we have created out of the necessity of something.

I have not seen a genuine smile for about 5 years now. It is thirty passed the 26th hour, I have to go.

Until next time,
DV.