Confinement in the Material World

I still take pictures; record everyday life even though memory is one great burden. It brings to life Friedrich Nietzsche’s idea of Eternal Return. It torments me yet I still could not readily accept change and the best thing I could do is to grasp the moment, seize every single detail of it through a click of a device called a camera. Each time I look back, I realize life has no certain pattern but as the photographs show a recurring visual of pain and agony.

I pop a pill in the hope of making me feel better. I want to get well again to live a longer life. Why try to live longer when we are all beings that would lead to death? Would the elixir of life we are trying to find out make us feel worse? Why make life longer? This would only prolong absurdity and meaninglessness and end up like Sissyphus. The tobacco weakens my lungs yet I continue to smoke. At the moment, it feels pleasurable. There is no point in trying to make my existence longer or not, it would all be the same the battle for absurdity and the ridicule of my kind is lost. Now, the alcohol goes through my throat, I suddenly feel a sudden gush of warmth. I love it.

I wear clothes even though it hides the realness of the human form. These fabrics drape you and layer after layer, the more is concealed; the lesser is known of you. All you need is a little unmasking. Live in your nakedness, every hint of flesh seen. Shy away those eyes from malice and greed but it is unlikely. I can say there is only one from which that line came from, an institution of pure metaphysics and a dead cause. It aims for total domination yet it fails to see me as an individual.

I gratify myself with desire. What the appetites yearn for, I give in but a wise man tells me not to let them break loose. You use that latex ring around that weapon for libidinal release and you lessen the actuality of pleasure. Desire in itself goes beyond a simple whim. Life is all about desire whether bodily or materially. I do not cease to find out any further. I believe Oscar Wilde with the words, “I can resist anything except temptation.”

I love art because it offers an escape from reality. Schopenhauer talked about this and art is something that leaves us to a state of wonderment amidst the difficulty of this so called life that is always bound to suffering. I play Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin on the CD player, I do not understand the words and yet I feel the passion, the depth and the brilliance. That’s how art works. Armani talks to me in his minimalist notion for my trousers and Lautrec entertains me inside his world, Montnamarte and what goes on with those cabarets.

Shall you call me ethical or not? I do not care because I live by the Kantian belief that the question of morality should pursue your autonomy at any cost. It is me and always me who will be the master of me.

Short term memory is all that I have which is perfect in the context of today. We all live in a state of constant change and in order to move on one must leave behind things to let another.
I want it (memory) to last briefly for I try not to write a memoir on how awful life has been in a world that confines you and many of its beings cease
to recognize that sort of existence you were driving to.

All answers that I have are temporary, so far. Now, I confine myself with material wealth, overly indulge in it