Day 0436

Christ, what a purposeless day. Scarcely left the apartment, scarcely could will myself to get out of bed. Went to the shop, saw a tramp buying a can of beer with great big gouty hands, puffed up and pink like balloons. Drew him this evening for want of anything else to do with myself. Forced myself to go out for a walk around the neighbourhood to tire myself out. Asian prostitutes along the boulevard. Driving rain this morning. The world doesn't care whether I house-arrest myself all day doing nothing, whether I'm edifying myself at the purifying fount of culture or whether I give my life over to some grand project or not. Can't bear how teeming everywhere is with humanity, how hopelessly pointless any striving is. Why not just baffle oneself with sensory pursuits? It's all the same in the end. Need a religion! The cleaner asked me what my religion was the other day. Good god, that would make things more bearable I'm sure. The trouble with striving after something rather than merely dreaming about it, for hoping for and anticipating a day or event that comes to pass, is that when it's over it's over and there is the blank nothingness left behind. If you don't go to Paris you can always stay at home thinking, 'well at least I could run away to Paris', but when you've run away to Paris and you're still gnawed at and hollowed out, well then, you've got nowhere left to run to. DISTRACT ME, USE ME, TAKE ME AWAY FROM MYSELF!! Life isn't what I expected and I can't bring myself together to change it.