Jun. 29th, 2014

To desire not to desire seems a natural inclination. When I discovered that all my discontent- mild or catastrophic, physical or existential- originated in wanting, it seemed to me that it was the wanting itself that was the problem.

Wait, though. What is this desire thing anyway? I'm suspicious of these words I use all the time without realizing how problematic they are to define. I'm suspicious of any smooth explanation that reeks of obfuscated tautology. Desire is the force behind personhood, it is the engine of sentience! ( No wonder I squirm when I ponder, no wonder I moan and gnash my teeth at parties. Me, the little toad with his binocular tongue licking every mirror. Me, the polished till I gleam sycophant. )

I do understand, this business of wanting not to want, and have even felt the pull myself. But I am unruly! I am a beast! I will have this! Including the discontent. The weeks of ennui, even. The pining for... for whatever it is, this Thing manifesting eternally half begun. It's mine.

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