While I was in the shower, someone came round to fix one of the windows in the house – he's still here. Carl Sagan had told me not to worry about staying in for this, but, after all, I felt it would be better if I did. I decided to look up the local Citizens Advice Bureau to see what they had to say about housing. I couldn't get an answer to my phone call, so I sent an e-mail. Then I looked at Gumtree again, arranged the search according to price, and so on… I looked at a phone number I'd previously noted down, phoned it again, reflected that the same mobile number was given in different notices with a different contact name and that I only ever got an answering machine, and wondered if this was another form of scam, like the one I had previously encountered. I decided to do a general Google search on a particular area of London. Most of the properties were completely out of my price range – but there was one, just one, that was within it. I phoned. This time someone answered; they sounded professional. I guessed this wasn't a scam. The notice I was responding to was a houseshare rather than a flat, but my original expectations have been lowered. I just need to get somewhere that I don't have to move out of for a while…
"It's only a room, are you still interested?" I was asked.
"I'd like to view it, yes."
"Are you in full-time employment?"
"I'm self-employed." This is perfectly true. I didn't mention the need for housing benefit. It seemed very likely that there would be a scene of humiliation during the viewing when payment came up and I was forced to mention housing benefit (unless I postponed such a conversation somehow till after I'd moved in), but at least I wanted to view somewhere, just to view a damned property before being shooed away as an undesirable on benefit.
"What's your contact number?"
"It's the phone I'm calling from."
"I can't see the number."
"Er… Nor can I. I can't remember my number. I'm not very good with phones."
Eventually, however, I managed to pass on my number. I was told I would receive a phone call later to arrange the viewing. After the phone call, I noticed the charge had nearly gone on my phone and I plugged it in at the wall socket… Nothing happened. It wasn't charging. The problem that I'd been having for weeks with my phone that had mysteriously disappeared for the last week, had now returned. Would there be enough charge on my phone to complete the arrangements of the viewing? It seemed touch and go, at best. A sinking feeling descended on me… it's not going to work out. It's just not going to work out.
I went downstairs to have a cup of tea… but I didn't make one. I fell to thinking about things, and sat on the sofa in the hallway next to the washing machine, watching, again, a line of ants from the back door. I've been thinking about energy recently, and where it goes. Death… With death all things are as if they have never been. And yet, all this, which is apparently the same as if it had never been, nonetheless is, and we are forced to experience this never-was-and-never-will-be, forced to make the excrutiating effort as if it would not exist without us, even though it does not exist even with us…
Simple but recurring questions: Will I ever make a living by doing the one thing I am compelled to do, which is writing? Answer: No. Will I ever be able to live another lifestyle, in which the emphasis is placed on something other than writing? Answer: No. Is there any point in the worldly success that requires all hours of every day to build and maintain? Answer: No. Is there any release from the need to survive that tends always towards this need for success? Answer: No. Is there solace to be found in relationships? Answer: Not that I have ever seen for myself. Relationships, like success, require work, ambition, drive, and fall apart without these things, leading to the loneliness of failure, which they only serve to cover up, having no lasting positive qualities in themselves. In short, no. Is there solace in art, even if one has to snatch at it fugitively, between longer bouts of trying to survive? Answer: Art is an attempt to do at a distance what one has failed close up with other human beings, but suffers from the same drawbacks at that distance. Can you communicate close up? No. Can you be successful close up? No. And ultimately, at a distance, even though the information regarding one's failure is more diffuse, and takes longer to come home, the answer is the same: No.
I have never been a stoic, or resilient, or even had much of a stiff upper lip… I can boast of no such admirable qualities. But anyway, I am forced, like everyone else, to continue experiencing this universe that death has already ensured is never-was-and-never-will-be, quite as if it all depended upon my sweat and struggle.
I decided that I was hungry and should make a sandwich. I was about to take the loaf out of its bag but noticed that it was mouldy. Last night, Carl Sagan and Kelly Monteith had apprised me of a strange phenonemon in the house. For reasons unknown – they speculated about some obscure form of sleepwalking – someone had, over the last few days, put a new packet of pitta bread in the bin, and then an almost new, and perfectly good loaf of sliced bread. I inspected this wholemeal loaf and then put it in the bin. This one, anyway, belonged there.
The window was still being fixed, so I felt unable to go to Tesco to buy another loaf. I made myself a cup of tea instead.
the orthodox monks on mt athos see it that way. they are patiently waiting for death. but they have things to do and work every day. and they have the presence of each other, though they don’t speak unless it’s necessary. i kind of connected that “sixty minutes” (cbs) visit to the monasteries with your question. do you get sixty minutes? probably not. i suppose they make their bread fresh every day so no mold on them. but i think it’s absurd to mutter the jesus prayer perpetually for fifty years. somehow you just have to be ungrateful for life to choose that path. they really convince themselves that they will go to heaven. just because they have denied themselves any pleasure or rest.i periodically wrestle with exactly the same questions as you have posed here and totally agree that it is all gone when i am gone and thereby lacking any real meaningful saving grace. and yet i go on striving in so many ways; staying alive as well as i can, trying to keep my spirits up and tossing out the blue green bread now and then.
I’ve been struggling with this death-awareness for most of my life. I suppose it might be useful for a soldier preparing for a banzai charge, or something, but it’s a crushing burden in everyday existence.I suppose my reasoning at the moment, regarding society, runs something like: The people who would force me into this other lifestyle, and worship at the altar of worldly success, are my enemies; therefore, I oughtn’t hesitate to exploit them in order to reach a position where I am able to satisfy my compulsions. There’s just the matter of finding an avenue of attack.I’m not certain about this, but if you’re renting privately, and the Housing Benefit is being paid to you directly, and you can pay the rent until it kicks in, there shouldn’t be any need to tell the landlord about it.
Matthew writes:Have you tried “Housing Associations”? There will be a waiting list but you can stay on it while you move somewhere else in the meantime.I lived in such a place in Liverpool and it was almost actually pleasant. Housing benefit no problem. In fact the rent at such places tends to be subsidised anyway.Good luck in moving, and in persisting among this barmy vault.
Thanks. I’ll look into this.
Have you considered a simple marriage of convenience? What I would suggest is a very wealthy lady,advanced in years, hence displaying a reduced requirement of physical, ummm, stimulation, but possessed of a small mansion, a summer residence at the Côte d’Azur, and an open account at Harrods….their fresh doughnuts are to die for!! And their sushi is more than adequate. After all it served Tchaikovsky well !All the best.Peter
Originally posted by I_ArtMan:but i think it’s absurd to mutter the jesus prayer perpetually for fifty years. somehow you just have to be ungrateful for life to choose that path. they really convince themselves that they will go to heaven. just because they have denied themselves any pleasure or rest.I think it’s good that there are people leading ‘extreme’ or extremely ascetic lifestyles in the world, but certainly don’t think it should be compulsory. I understand the life-denying, non-secular aspects of religion (or I think I do), but we’re probably all familiar with the drawbacks of guilt, repression and so on that they often bring in their wake.Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:I suppose my reasoning at the moment, regarding society, runs something like: The people who would force me into this other lifestyle, and worship at the altar of worldly success, are my enemies; therefore, I oughtn’t hesitate to exploit them in order to reach a position where I am able to satisfy my compulsions. There’s just the matter of finding an avenue of attack.The times I feel like a parasite I sometimes remind myself that this is only because I live in a world where my particular skills are not valued. There is nothing intrinsically less valuable in me compiling intricate and imaginative lies on paper than someone being able to kick a ball really well, but the latter of the two brings much more wealth, acclaim and so on than the former.Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:I’m not certain about this, but if you’re renting privately, and the Housing Benefit is being paid to you directly, and you can pay the rent until it kicks in, there shouldn’t be any need to tell the landlord about it.I was talking to someone about this topic this evening. He said that the landlord doesn’t need to know. This is odd, because I’m sure I remember having to get the landlord or lady to fill in a section of the form on previous occasions. If it is true, however, then this could make things easier for me.Originally posted by peedeel:What I would suggest is a very wealthy lady,advanced in years, hence displaying a reduced requirement of physical, ummm, stimulation, but possessed of a small mansion, a summer residence at the Côte d’Azur, and an open account at Harrods….their fresh doughnuts are to die for!! And their sushi is more than adequate. After all it served Tchaikovsky well !Although ‘gigolo’ doesn’t necessarily come under the category ‘nice work if you can get it’, I’m not sure that I’d be considered very competitive if I placed myself on the market. It might be a case of ‘extortionate at any price’.
my my you hit these pitches out of the park. you must have your thinking cap on straight today. :up:
gveranon writes:Re asceticism, here are a couple of aphorisms from Nicolas Gomez Davila: “Religious austerity fascinates; ethical severity repels.” and “Rigid moralism dulls the ethical sensibility.” . . . Despite not being a reactionary (though I sometimes feel like one), nor a Catholic, nor in fact a religious believer of any kind (though I have a bit of a frustrated religious sensibility), I’ve been slowly going through this enormous trove of Davila aphorisms: http://don-colacho.blogspot.com/. Davila at his best was one of the greatest aphorists of all time, I think — in a very select group with names like Joubert, Nietzsche, Valery, and Cioran. He wasn’t always at his best, in my opinion, but within the large number of aphorisms he wrote there is a whole lot of “best.”
I’m actually very interested in Nicolas Gomez Davila. I like aphorisms generally, too.