September 11, 2013
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alternating
True to my contrary nature, I have decided to not decide which blog I am actually using. I’ll be happy to use both. Sure. And alternate. My post yesterday was on the other one.
So now I’m here.
It’s fine.And after this, I will read more. And wonder what has happened to me that I am making my way through writings presented from a nihilist point of view, and feeling more and more like something terrible is happening with the result that the words I read are the crystalised form of my own misty thoughts.
I am repelled by the idea that I agree so strongly with the points already made…but then, I am only about 50 pages in, and must also remind myself that I am reading a book not written by an actual philosopher, but by a writer of fiction. Which isn’t saying one can’t be both…but it is a reassuring illusion. And I like being reassured that I am not a nihilist…because…you know…that just isn’t what I want to be, and I feel like this desire alone is enough to prevent me from being one, but there’s still that continual sense of familiarity that I am getting as I read.If it was all foreign to me, I would feel better. But I don’t. Probably another thing I can chalk up to paranoia.
Kind of like my flashes of unreasoning terror and disbelief when I watch traffic moving. I start thinking, “what if I’m crazy and shouldn’t be driving? I mean, what if I just take the wheel and start swerving around for the heck of it?”
And I see how precarious our situation really is when we’re on the road. It’s terrifying. Especially when you have moments where you suddenly doubt yourself…not that I would purposefully start swerving around and mashing into other vehicles…but…it’s another form of that terror of my reflection trying to bite me…I just get sudden serious doubts about my ability to control my own body…like at any moment, control might be wrested from me by this other entity that is not me and if not even Wolf. It is just…not me.I don’t know.
(Now that nobody will ever want to get into a car with me ever again…)In other news:
I have been thinking a lot about the definitions of terror and horror. What makes them different as feelings. The definitions of the two are quite close…but…it seems to me that terror is more sudden and unreasoning. The kind of fear you get when you are hiding or running and you can barely think…a much more visceral, action-based sort of fear.
Horror, it seems, is more thought-driven…based on a realization of what you have done, or that the unthinkable has in some way happened…and the element of fear is brought in by your intellectual comprehension of the situation, and subsequent emotional rejection or simple inability to accept it. As in a tragedy, perhaps.…I think that at some point, I should be stopped from reading weird tales. Somehow, in the past year or so, I have acquired between 10-12 such books…they are wonderful, but I think they are affecting me. Gradually, but it seems to be there.
On the upside (I guess), I do not dream about such things anymore. Or about anything much at all.
Now watch me go to bed and have nightmares about being chased and eaten by things.
