Nausea II

Sunday, 5 January 2003

I don’t lis­ten to them any­more: they an­noy me. They’re go­ing to sleep to­geth­er. They know it. Each one knows that the oth­er knows it. But since they are young, chaste and de­cent, since each one wants to keep his self- re­spect and that of the oth­er, since love is a great po­et­ic thing which you must not fright­en away, sev­er­al times a week they go to dances and restau­rants, of­fer­ing the spec­ta­cle of their rit­u­al, me­chan­i­cal dances.…

After all, you have to kill time. They are young and well built, they have enough to last them an­oth­er thir­ty years. So they’re in no hur­ry, they de­lay and they are not wrong. Once they have slept to­geth­er they will have to find some­thing else to veil the enor­mous ab­sur­di­ty of their ex­is­tence. Still … is it ab­solute­ly nec­es­sary to lie?

Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

that about cov­ers it.


Friday, 3 January 2003

up­on reread­ing Nausea i am in­ter­est­ed in the ex­is­ten­tial­ist take on re­gret. Roquentin seems less alien­at­ed to me than he did the last time i vis­it­ed him, in­stead he seems more con­cerned with what used to be and what has changed. he does not ac­cept this change to Nausea and mourns for his past. is this Sartre’s ex­am­ple of Kierkegaard’s ‘knight of in­fi­nite res­ig­na­tion?’ and why is the ex­treme aware­ness of be­ing-in-it­self so dis­gust­ing? why is this knowl­edge of dif­fer­ence nau­seous in­stead of eu­phor­ic? it doesn’t sick­en me…

I must not put strange­ness where there is none. I think that is the big dan­ger in keep­ing a di­ary: you ex­ag­ger­ate every­thing. You con­tin­u­al­ly force the truth be­cause you’re al­ways look­ing for some­thing.

Jean-Paul Sartre — Nausea