ポール・オースター2024/02/05

I've finished reading Paul Auster's "The Invention of Solitude."

Writing a diary means capturing reality, so not mentioning that it snowed today is akin to failing to grasp reality. Contemplating the weather serves as a reminder to halt me to live solely in the realm of the mind.

The determination to remove what displeases me blinds me to anything beyond my own thoughts. In doing so, I inadvertently invent solitude, rendering myself entirely alone.

As a result of valuing myself too much, peculiar things happened within my mind. No, it's incredibly cruel. I strongly react to everything that makes me uncomfortable, trying to suppress it, considering it from every angle, yet continually failing. It's akin to when I played Little League baseball, imagining myself playing the game while dreading making an error, and still contemplating the possibility of making mistakes.

Indeed, in Paul Auster's "The Invention of Solitude," there is a passage about baseball. Well, the protagonist seems to be the opposite of me, excelling in baseball.

Rather than lamenting, I shall deeply observe myself.I tend to merge with my thoughts when I let my guard down.Yet, I am a physical being, not just a train of thought.Identifying myself solely with thoughts initiates a cycle of suffering.

It may not be the case for everyone, but for me, handling my thoughts requires careful consideration and selective engagement.

Imagining making errors in baseball brings discomfort, but letting it drift into sentimental reminiscence is not something I should allow.

The style of these thoughts exposes the vulnerability of my thinking itself.

I finished watching Star Wars. Played Gundam Musou 2, Quattro's Hyaku Shiki is powerful. Played shogi, lost, and felt regret.