Tag: Reflections

September 26, 2020: Maybe I should start reading less

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

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?

Toilet Paper

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

All the bars are closed,
and the happy hours
are gone.
The bartenders are quarantined.
And the DJs —
what are the DJs up to?

The coffee shops are sanitized
and vacant.
It seems
the espresso machines
are silently waiting
for the old status quo to return.
You know,
my nostrils miss the coffee aroma
of weekday mornings.

I walk around
wearing a disposable surgical mask
and disposable latex gloves.

I look around.
Nothing has changed,
but everything seems different.
And no one’s here
with me
to see what I see.

I find a supermarket open,
and I walk in.
I don’t need anything,
so I walk out.
Then I walk back in
and buy
toilet paper.

March 12, 2020: Untitled

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

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.