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The Myth of Sisyphus

I haven't blogged in a while because I've spilled coffee on my laptop. So I had to use my Pa's computer, then somehow I broke that one too, lol.  That's two machines in the span of a week.  So Pa got a new one, meanwhile I have to use his old one, and I'm worried he'll see what all I've been up to on here.  Maybe it's for the better.  Unemployed, I click on my bookmarks obsessively.  Then I click on them again in case I missed something in the time it took to click through them, and so on.  I've been using the time to edit my old journals.  I have 16 of them spanning from July 2010.  I hope to condense them down to 5.  I'm about half way.  It's a very narcissistic affair.  Not surprisingly, I kind of love it.

I often wonder how useful I am, and just the other day I saw a book in the bookstore by Camus called The Myth of Sisyphus.  Without belief in God or the afterlife, what's to stop us from committing suicide, Camus asks.  His answer is to forever push a big boulder up a hill, then watch it roll down, and then do it again.  So, if you ask me about the point of editing my journals, I will tell you I'm pushing the boulder up the hill.


jon said...

That's horrifying, the Ironman part. Although I suppose some people worship their bodies more than their minds. The way I see it, whichever you exercise more decays slower, and at 70, I'd rather have an 80 year old body than an 80 year old mind. After 65, no one wants to fuck you anyway (and that's really optimistic).

John Dantzer said...

Gold diggers love any kind of man, and a lot of men would have sex with a pile of manure.