Fri 05 Jul 1996 05:27
untitled.wri actual date unknown

Essays on lonliness

My reality is your reality. You are as I percieve you to be. If you tell me your perception of yourself, that may change my perception of you.

Everyone is separate. The degree to which a person avoids their separateness is often their success. The presidents of the united states of america have not spent much time contemplating their separateness. Perhaps Mahtma Ghandi has, maybe bhudda, but I would say, most of those tried to explain their separateness away.

The more successful a person is at avoiding the thought of their separateness, the more sane they are. The more I realize my separateness, the more insane I am.

Separateness is reality. Why, the more I see things as they are, the more insane I am? Because so few people see things as they are. Reality is so different from what these others think it to be. I mention this reality and people scare away. They are afraid, and they have reason to be. Separateness faced alone is lonliness.


What I find most frightening is that I am incapable of doing anything about my lonliness. I think myself incapable, perhaps I am not. Maybe I have not shouted loudly enough, or spoken to enough people. Maybe I have not the charisma. In which case I am incapable of doing anything about my lonliness.

Success would be talking to you, and you saying, yes, I see, but you are not quite right, and you suggesting your ideas on reality. Success might not be you saying, "Yes, I see, I feel as you feel. Now, let's be separate together." But I think that is what I want.

Now, let's be separate together.

----

This even, is a diversion from my separateness. Bartleby (link) is the prophet of my religion.

To spend all time in a reverie, feeling the puposelessness in all action, and to starve one's self to death.

I do not know him. I have not given up that I should find another separate soul, but the effects of his awareness are the same as the effect of my awareness on me.

I am saved though. I enjoy the animal. I eat, I like the physical tiredness. To run myself hot and then swim in cold water. I run, I eat alot, and then I sleep in the warm summer breeze on a soft bed under a window, and I dream then, and my dreams are good, and in this case I remember them. I am competitive, I love to play the soccer game and with women, I would love to swim too. All this is the animal, not a bad thing.

Bartleby is the great human, spending not an instant in anything but contemplation. He is brutally honest with himself, an honesty that I seek, but am most afraid of. What is the soccer game, but a time that must end, and I will return to my separateness alone. What is the physical but a momentary distraction from what I know will always be? What are the people, but hope, a hope that is lost in time. For when they see what I am, as I am, When they see that of me that is them, that will always be me and always be them, they leave for the next movie show.



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Bartleby does not contemplate. All he can be doing is nothing. He simply exists. He is. He is brutally honest with himself. He does not spend an instant in anything but non-thought. He does not think, knowing thought is ineffectual. He does not act. Is action ineffective? Thought is nothing unless it leads to action, but what of the action. To love without being loved is not love.


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