One Of Ennui's Most Terribel Components Is

There Is No Art Form That Has So Much In Common With Film As Music. Both Affect Our Emotions Directly, Not Via The Intellect.

To Humiliate And Be Humiliated, I Think, Is A Crucial Element In Our Whole Social Structure. It's Not Only The Artist I'm Sorry For. It's Just That I Know Exactly Where He Feels Most Humiliated.

Occasionally I Sense An Insane Wail Deep Down In The Pit, The Echo Alone Reaching Me, Striking Without Warning, A Child Weeping Uninhibitedly, Imprisoned Forever.

Sometimes I Go For Days Without Speaking To A Soul. I Think, “i Should Make That Call", But I Put It Off. Because There’s Something Pleasurable About Not Talking. But Then I Love Talking, So It’s Not That. But Sometimes It Can Be Nice. It’s Not Like I Sit Here Philosophizing, Because I’ve No Talent For That. It’s Just This Thing About Silence That’s So Wonderful.

When You Feel Perpetually Unmotivated, You Start Questioning Your Existence In An Unhealthy Way; Everything Becomes A Pseudo Intellectual Question You Have No Interest In Responding Whatsoever. This Whole Process Becomes Your Very Skin And It Does Not Merely Affect You; It Actually Defines You. So, You See Yourself As A Shadowy Figure Unworthy Of Developing Interest, Unworthy Of Wondering About The World - Profoundly Unworthy In Every Sense And Deeply Absent In Your Very Presence.