Let me indulge in whining for a while:
1) Due to an ailment of my ears, the state of my auditory world is like that of a late 80's Hal Hartley movie - on a crappy VHS tape. These movies resemble my life in other respects as well: stiff dialogue, detachment, quiet surrealism. (Hartley, by the way, is great - I love his work, especially Henry Fool and some of his early stuff! - I would like to watch more stuff of his, however.)
My present condition makes me feel an urge to shout not so gentlemanly things at people at our neighbour department: "shut the FUCK up or I'll prove, by means of syllogistic reasoning, the mediocre nature of Finnish-Swedish literature!". But I am a nice person. Or, if not, I do at least have some half-proper sense of conventions of courtesy.
2) For consolation, I read Thomas Bernhard. Together with Thomas Mann, he is the master of depicting discourses attached to sickness. At times, he is boring, at times, he is funny and ironic, at times his descriptions are really moving.
3) I worry about my academic pursuits not being concrete or focused enough. What if I am doing this for nothing, if, in a few years' time, it will turn out that my project is muddled through-and-through? "Well, I did try..." Did you really? Don't ask questions, punk. What if my research school will sue me for not having done what I was supposed to do? Can they do that? Maybe not, but still.
4) It's cold outside.
5) Everything else is humdrum rubbish.
6) Boring stuff on TV.
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