Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Beyond Saturn's Rings.

One of the many benefits of having gotten into Minor Threat is that, on the rare occasions that i do now drink, i end up drinking one beer, whereupon i pass out on the floor, and wake up half way through an Om record.

I mean, Om are pretty good, so it isn't a huge problem really.

At the moment I am grappling with a general melancholy. This isn't really a bad, depressive melancholy, but rather one that comes about as a result of having nothing to do.

Days tend to stretch out toward infinity. As much as i try to have plans for the day, there still seems to be long stretches of time where i find myself sitting on the coach, staring at the wall, thinking about the various complexities of boredom. While this is kind of interesting, I feel it probably has a limit.

I remember Brendan quoted some anarchist book the other month about the necessity of having secret plans. The past few weeks, following uni, I have been trying to convince myself that it might in fact be important to have no plans.

We are hard wired to believe that we have to have plans, or goals, at which to strive. If we don't the implication is that we are somehow failing at something, namely life. The result of this is that people who find themselves in situations where they suddenly have NOTHING TO DO in a slightly more severe existential sense (different from the Sunday arvo nothing to do) do one of two things: travel, or go on to do further study. This allows one to post pone questions about life direction for a later, more convenient date.

So i have no secret plans, other than vague intentions and desires to write creatively again, for the first time since i was about 12. Considering the last time i was writing seriously, i was writing about wizards, i am having a hard time playing catch up. I fucking love wizards. Please note this is before the term 'wizard' was besmirched by teenage boy wizards. I'm talking full on, bearded, with big staff wizard. Anyway.

So i guess, to state things in their most cleched form, i need more direction, and more goal oriented thoughts. I ride my bike a lot, and that takes up a lot of my time, but i feel it's pretty important i have something else to do, lest i begin to despise the thing i like the most.

In an attempt to formulate secret plans, i have had the opportunity to do a fair bit of thinking about thinking up secret plans. The kind of thinking where, if i was a smoker, i imagine i would make my way through two cartons a day while i thought about thinking.

Ironically, most of the thinking i have done while doing nothing has centred around how crucial it seems for me to have things to do during the day before i sink into an abyss of nihilistic, oppressive melancholy. This in turn ties into the feeling one has that one must be DOING THINGS at all times, for fear of WASTING TIME. Wasting time is a really hard one for me. I'm very good at doing it, and incredibly hard on myself when i do so. You would think that it would be possible to sit back and enjoy a few days of doing nothing in particular, after a hard year of study.

But the minute you do, the world loses its form and shape. Beliefs and goals begin to seem abstract, pointless, and self indulgent (which is ironic, given the nature of this post). Time passes quickly, so the day seems to have gone by in a flash, but each hour is agonisingly slow.

It's certainly reminded me how important plans and goals are in giving metaphysical shape to the world. Without an idea of where you stand, and where you might like to go in relation to that point, you kind of drown in a world without a centre or perspective.

It reminds me of the fear people felt when it first emerged that the world might in fact not be at the centre of the universe but, rather, simply a point in an endless, borderless universe. With no centre, or border, there was no possible way to position yourself in relation to the rest of the world. So people made things smaller. Ideas of the solar system started to be kicked around, beyond which there were notions of infinity, but placed in such a way that they didn't directly affect our sense of selves.

You need to position yourself in the world, so you can see where you might be headed. You need a secret plan. Otherwise you suddenly find yourself in a borderless world, of limitless possibilities. It's that very freedom that traps and suffocates you.

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