I went to Apocalypse on Saturday night with Brett and his lady-friend Lara.  I had a terrible time, I drank too much before I even got there, and now I can’t remember what I said to who.  I do remember hanging around this girl like a bad smell though, because Brett said she liked me.  I feel really stupid, I never want to go out again.  I’m going to become an urban hermit, straight to work and straight to home.  If only I didn’t have all these troublesome needs and desires springing from the dark recesses of my soul.  I’m talking (in the most convoluted and euphemistic fashion possible) about sex, of course.  If it weren’t for these base and ignoble demons perching on my shoulder whispering greasy nothings in my ear, I could be so much happier, living on my own in Flemington, being totally selfish and pleasing only myself.  Rationally, I tell myself that relationships are more trouble than they’re worth, and I’m far better off immersing myself in pursuits of a higher nature.  Reading, teaching myself German, all that twaddle.  Then the leering sleaze that’s somewhere inside us all  tells me to get out there and sow some wild oats.

I think I am beginning to understand the rationale and motives behind those who choose to enter monasteries and convents.  It’s a total renunciation of individual will, you no longer have to make choices.  You are judged only by those around you, and on the sole basis of your dedication to one cause.  I think that in some ways, it must be an easy life, everything is mapped out for you, there must be so little uncertainty.  As long as you maintain your original commitment to God (or whatever the case may be), you face a secure and regulated life.  Because you give your entire being over, you effectively negate the self, and so you must be free from self-doubt.  Don’t worry, I’m not contemplating becoming a monk or anything, it’s just an interesting thought, and one that I have, no, doubt over simplified.  I guess I’m looking for simple answers to complicated questions.

I’ll write again soon.

Love J

PS Don’t mail anything to Flemington just yet – I’ve still got to put up a letter-box.