Would life be better if I had a project, a meaning, something that I was continuously trying to work on, like fixing up the house, but as don't feel part of the family it doesn't drive me, and my career is a cesspit of dead ends, but writing is so disheartening, so what could I believe in? Finding a seaside stationary caravan to rent?
I think Marx died through all of my reading time today, though, by the end of my reading time he had not yet died. It was brilliant, it was second person as Marx was in an induced coma.
An honest days work, perhaps, the ten of us in the basement folding boxes and stuffing a book in each, and at one point, when I still had the energy, I noticed how all of us were trying to be the hardest working. Including me, though I did try to be less productive whenever I caught myself trying to be quicker.
On Death
And when there is a momentous moment, and the momentum is for a mass memorial, my...