I spend most of my time doing something I sometimes enjoy quite a bit and sometimes find moderately despair inducing. Usually because of money.

I spend most of my time with people who probably would rather be doing something else if they had the freedom to do whatever they really wanted yo do and I spend the least time with the few people who are kinda fond of me.

I will keep doing this till I will die of prostrate cancer. With the level of sexual frustration I experience prostrate cancer is a certainty.

We are talking about circa 70 years of near constant study, frantic efforts to make money, depression, a dopamine hit here and there, and yes, most important of all: my son. The culmination of this whole absurd circus is to hold my son in my arms. Which is the best thing I have done in my life and the best thing I will ever do in my life.

Then I will drop dead. I will definitely be forgotten. And it’s not even certain my son will survive me and be my legacy.

So what will matter most in the end is every second I made sure my son felt loved. Every second he gets is a second he will have had.

But think about that. I live a life radically different from how I would like to have it and what makes this existence that tastes like stale bread bearable is arranging the conditions for a joyful life for my son.

My father did the same thing and that ended in suicide. Am I on track to commit suicide? Even is this last ditch approach to life I have developed is questionable.

For the last 15 years or so even the exciting moments keep disappointing in the end.

And I can handle it. Except that my patience with and tolerance of shitty, vain, nasty people has run out.

Because in all this absurdity what bothers me most is people who think they’re something better than others or people who create a lot of humbug over nothing and create trouble for other human beings who are also already drowning in the quagmire of absurdity. You have 70 years on this planet and then you vanish into nothingness. At least be nice to your fellow sufferers.

I don’t care about anything that gets in the way of 1. love 2. my time to contemplate what the fuck we are here for. I don’t know the answer, but I do know we are not here to do what most people do at the office between circa 9 and 5.

And yet, that’s all I do. From 8.00 to 21.00.

Right, why that Jung quote?

I was going to write about something else. How some woman shattered 90 percent of my non-son related joy and vibrancy, but something else came out.