Category: Reflections

September 26, 2020: Maybe I should start reading less

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In the morning, I read the last pages of Nietzsche’s The Use and Abuse of History — now the 32nd book I read in 2020. I was happy at first, but, when I entered Goodreads to add it, I saw that I was three books behind schedule to hit my target of 48 books in 2020.

I went to the pile of unread books I have in my bedroom to choose the next book, but I got a little depressed.

One can never read enough. There is always more to read. It’s impossible to become Faustus.

And why am I reading? Why am I trying so hard to consume as many books as possible? Who am I racing or competing with? There are few people I know who read more than I do anyway. So what am I trying to achieve here?

Maybe I should slow down, read less but more carefully, write more… Think more, live more…

To acquire knowledge has been my only goal in life so far. I always wanted to know everything about everything, which is kind of — childish.

What is knowledge good for? (Foucault would say, “for cutting.”) Moreover, what am I good for?

Who do I want to be?

March 12, 2020: Untitled

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Woke up.
Neck pain. Back pain.
I wore yesterday’s clothes.

On my way to work,
the movie “28 Days Later” came to my mind.
Emptiness. Abandoned spaces.
Few cars.
It’s the end of the world, I thought.
It’s the end of my world.

And now I’m here
smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk,
inhaling the fear of death that’s in the air.
This Thursday feels like a Sunday,
but I’m not praying.
I’m thinking: Motherfuckers,
I was looking forward to
open sausages and open beer,
but they just told me
all restaurants are closed until further notice.

Corruption and incompetency.
Impotence.
The economic crisis.
The COVID-19 pandemic.
What’s next and what can we do?
We can’t run — they’re shutting down the airports.
We can’t hide — we’ll starve.

I can’t work.
I can’t think.

And now in the office,
in my rolling chair,
I’m trying to get rid of
this brain fog
by scrolling down
my Facebook newsfeed.

Moments ago,
I called the convenience store
and ordered wet wipes and
hand sanitizers.

I’m alone in the office.
There’s no one else here.

February 3, 2020: Checkmate Instead of Goodnight

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It’s 4:00 AM, almost dawn. Black and white squares everywhere I look. Sixty-four. I’ve been playing chess all night, fighting to control the center, chasing the enemy’s king. Gambits and sacrifices. From opening to middlegame to endgame… How many games? About a hundred, I guess, or maybe more. Blitz and Bullet. Bishops, Knights, Rooks, and Queens — everything was sacrificed. My time also was sacrificed. This game, the game of the gods, is poison. It’s a board game, yes, but it’s larger than life. “Life is too short for chess,” a great player once said. And he wasn’t joking. No, he couldn’t have been joking. What a game! I’m in bed now, finally, warming my feet under the blanket. But my head is filled with the images and sounds of chessmen. When I close my eyes I see the board. I’m in sinking in quicksand, sinking slowly. I can’t sleep. I have a fever. Tonight, it’s checkmate instead of good night.