Book: In praise of boredom

What is good in the boredom, anguish and sense of meaninglessness of your own and all other beings - that it's not cheating.

In fact, there is nothing wrong to turn life into a constant search for alternatives, the mess of work, spouses, environments, etc., provided that you can afford the alimony and confusion in the memories. This provision, in essence, was quite praised on the screen and in romantic poetry. The catch, however, is that soon the search turns into a main occupation, and your need for an alternative becomes equal to a daily dose of a drug addict.

Try to stay passionate, leave your cool to constellations.

"You end" - tells you the time in a voice of boredom, "and whatever you do, from my point of view, in vain." This, of course, does not sound music to your hearing; however, a sense of futility, of limited significance even of your the highest, most ardent actions is better than the illusion of their fruitfulness, and the accompanying ego.

Boredom is, so to speak, your window on time, on those properties that we tend to ignore to such an extent that it threatens the emotional balance. In short, it's your window to the infinity of time, that is, your insignificance in it. Perhaps this explains the fear of lonely, numb nights, and the fascination with which we sometimes observe a speck of dust swirling in a sunbeam - and the clock ticking, the heat is, and willpower is at zero.

When you are overcome with boredom, surrender to her. She will crush you; immerse yourself, get to the bottom. Generally, the troubles, the rule is: the sooner you hit bottom, the faster you will swim to the surface. The idea here is, using the words of another great English poet, is to face the worst.