pastime heatwave sidetracks

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Stockholm in a heatwave. A muscle man of fearless gloom, bruised jarred naked skin. Battered fists and broken bones and a mind too young to hurt.
 

Distractions.

From what? Impending catastrophe? Cosmic isolation? I’m not sure. But sometimes melancholy hits me like a bag of bricks and in moments of monotony in particular. Leisure hours without a clear–cut goal to strive for. So I avoid it. And justify distraction with all I have. Perhaps some of it is good? After all you cannot live your life in a never–ending state of existential desperation. It is too serious. Too paralysing. And no damn fun.

But you are forgetting the importance of these moments. Without momentary spurs of existential angst you would never feel the sense of urgency that is actually making you head out and achieve. You need these moments in order to understand the importance of meaning. To get an insight into the depth of human nature. Beyond its neat shallow facade so preferred by the majority.

Possibly. Or it’s just an intellectualised form of masochism. And why are you talking to yourself in the third person anyway?

“People tend to think of their self as located somewhere behind their eyes”, someone said. Ever heard someone utter the phrase I can’t stand myself? That sentence alone implies two selves. Your true self and your thinking self. One internal, one external. One responds to stimulus from the inside out. The other from the outside in. You need the external one, you couldn’t survive in this world we built without it. But merely that would make you just a tool.

Perhaps life isn’t as much dualistic as it is surface and depth. Levels of interpretation. But the dualism exists too. In order to achieve depth you need the fine–tuned balance between two extremes. Call it order and chaos, the known and the unknown, whatever. And you circle and circle around your true self and at times you get closer. Then you lose your grip again.

And so it goes.