Day 0308

Breakfast in Wimbledon; talked of people and things, not ideas, which I find difficult to focus on.

Matinee performance of 1984, which was a physically moving, mind-filling experience. Knew that in room 101 I would have to betray my sister; a hated thought. Boot stamping on human face - the play avoided the exploration of the point of the party as purely a pursuit of power. Vague feeling that I am more O'Brien than Winston, that I buy the party line and that I think that doublethink is useful, good and true. That an unreal reality is preferable and necessary to the human condition, and that it is always already present.

Having identified the social structure that surrounds us as fundamentally manipulative and hollow we immediately threw ourselves into the hypocrisy of the protective bubble-world of capitalist consumption and travelled for an hour to eat a particular pizza in a particular restaurant. Go through the motions and tick the boxes and play the game and it just about keeps you preoccupied enough to tolerate the real truths which lurk always and ever at the peripheries of consciousness; principally that we are the dead.