After the night's debacle

Again I had one of my fits. And someone had to hear it through the propelling blades of the generous exhaust fan, letting the cold artificial air through the room with a slanted ceiling. This exhaust fan, enobled by its buyers in salvaging it from sucking up the scent of newly deposited excrements, really seldom gets the gratitude they deserve in sparing us, potetial shit-sniffers. But with air, words are carried through, so it was the first time I regretted my little friend's presence, and the curly-haired girl who carries a modest smile at the other end.

It was egotistical as I see it, to feel humiliated in asking, and with the humiliation-anger and a thousand words scrambling to get out-litost as Kundera would have put it, if ever I was a character in his beautiful novels. I was more attracted to the novels' ideas rather than the scenery, but maybe that has been my problem all along, but hasn't that been the human condition, the sundered unity of idea and scene, if there has been any proof of it's oneness to begin with? Of having this idea of how something works between two individuals and just experiencing it for yourself, maybe I've simply equated him out of the whole idea, and he simply refuses, not even intentionally, not even knowingly, to let me reign in my own universe, like the simplest things can just put me off or just leave me in a f*cking daze for hours on, which doesn't sound godly to me.

It's tough to remain individualistic in the attempt to be personal and go beyond yourself, beyond the confines of your own thought system and just be confronted with someone else's thought process that could cancel out your own, who then wins out? It's hard to get through arguments that largely rely on what I WANT, which often stands on the irrationality of desire, how the hell are you gonna defend that, all you can hope for is for two wants to coincide. I wasn't really asking for much, no one's severed head, no grand gesture, just him to want to lay still. Just wanting someone to want something too, haven't I heard this before in a Jennifer Aniston movie? In other words, reciprocity or else I should have just dug out someone's grave and just haul out a corpse if all I wanted was militant obedience with no will of its own, it would've been more grand if it was a spontaneous initiative from the other's side. So with the other, again and again, the limit. To breach the limit, "to grope within the outlines of the self" you have to use words that are clear and relentless. To use those words to ask for something, bear it with an iron gut and a modest assent.