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The time of the present

Modifié le : 2019/07/24

Silence, some­times, annoys me. By this, I mean death, this unbe­liev­able noth­ing­ness, this step above the empti­ness that the soul even­tu­al­ly makes. I am not afraid of death, I am afraid that I have not lived long enough, very naughty pre­tense, proud delir­i­um, inabil­i­ty to relax in the face of danger.

When, after hav­ing had break­fast, done the ablu­tions, fin­ished read­ing the news­pa­pers, after the show­er, the sneezes, after hav­ing thought about what to say next Wednes­day at the Lit­er­ary Pride pan­el (is the homo­sex­u­al the only one allowed to write homo­sex­u­al char­ac­ters ? What is this ques­tion?), after hav­ing done the tour of what I could do dur­ing the day, singing, clean­ing, a walk, exer­cise, a web­site for the fam­i­ly, read­ing, more clean­ing, not to men­tion the con­struc­tion, the dilap­i­da­tion of the liv­ing room, left under con­struc­tion. After being placed in front of all these pos­si­bil­i­ties, I just sit in my bed, clos­ing my tired eyes, as I did yes­ter­day afternoon.

I have cer­tain­ly worked too hard for years. The pace was steady and then, now, this pause, this uncer­tain­ty. The econ­o­my is in trou­ble, my sav­ings are in trouble.

Qui­et. Qui­et. Wait­ing. Carefree.

Sigh… This is not how Mar­guerite Yource­nar would write (I have two of her books on the bed­side table. What an impos­ing thing, a lit­er­ary ocean like her own). I am there­fore sat­is­fied to close my eyes, prob­a­bly naive­ly hop­ing that it will pass. Is there not, on the hori­zon, the hap­py sun of a forth­com­ing pub­li­ca­tion ? Haven’t I achieved my goal ?

Why then this anguish ? Why this fear of empti­ness ? I have the lim­bic brain of a teenag­er and the frontal lobe of a grand­fa­ther. Don’t wor­ry about it too much, the writer can do any­thing, his lit­er­a­ture is like the tide. The moons are in charge.

I think I’m a lit­tle short on vocab­u­lary right now. I cer­tain­ly just need to rest. There is, after all, no fire. The clock always points to the present time.

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