So. What now. What now to be said. Nothing. Nothing as usual. A few thoughts. Boring thoughts. Thought vultures over the corpse of the sensible. Ugly phrasing. One thought about youth. Youth failed. Back in the days it did not really feel like it. It felt failed, yes, most of the time, but it was ok. There was time. It could get better. Now it’s over, now it won’t get better. Now it was failed, and that is all. Thought about thoughts. Fairly grim. Maybe try think differently. Not sure. How to do that and not be a shit. A delusional shit. Difficult. Might be worth the try. We’ll see. Other thought. Body weak. Weaker and weaker. Possibly one main sheaf of causes for the grey. HIV of thought. Not life itself under attack. Something specific within it. The doing. The hopes. Stuff like that. Those ones life feeds on. Now life starving. Scrawny corpse to be. HIV in there. Or cancer. Or similar. Killing something. Action I guess. Choice as well. Then of course no one can help. For you can act for me that does not make me act. As long as I don’t act I die. Somehow it feels like dying is the only option. Yet I’m reluctant. Oddly enough. Hence the situation now. All stiff. All frozen. (Not that I feel the cold. I used to a little bit. But now not really. Maybe because I sleep.) Still possible to feel sadness. That, yes. Always. Almost always. Ambition, too, if that can be felt. The big hopes are still there, floating over the ruins. Maybe like the rich when society has dissolved. Pause. Other thought. There was another thought. Maybe that one yesterday, that I should get rid of the metawriting. Those fences, those hedges, before, after, framing the vague images. What’s happening right now. Just get rid of it. Think it, get to the vague image, then keep it and get rid of the frame. Get rid of the ladder, Wittgenstein would say. But no, that wasn’t really a thought. Just stick to the rich. The rich in a dirigible over the waste land. Most probably no fuel or broken engine. No question of coming back down. Too many corpses. Too much death. No. From now on only floating. Floating for a while longer. With the high breeze, the sightseeing. No need of Otto Dix, Joseph Beuys or similar. Just press your face against the window and watch. Watch the world below.