His Three Most Upsetting Diary Entries

December 9, 1954 (Age 19)
I’m listless all the time, such that I can barely move my own limbs without an extraordinary demonstration of will. “What’s the cause of this?” I wonder idly. But the answer is vague — little more than the harrowing spectre of adulthood and all its attendant responsibilities.

August 3, 1986 (Age 51)
Though I go to work every day and am competent enough to remain unnoticed, I’m a husk of a shell of a shadow of a man. The kids’ tuition bills arrive with startling frequency — and certainly more than just twice per year. I consider the decisions I’ve made and find little to criticize, yet the result of those decisions is decidedly not optimal.

April 26, 2013 (Age 78)
I extract myself from my chair now only on those occasions when obligation absolutely demands it — and, it must be said, my definition of obligatory is becoming always more stringent. While talented, Bergman is wrong to have portrayed Death as dark and human figure. Death is more like a gas: ubiquitous yet invisible — and more terrifying because of it. Perhaps he revised his idea of it later on. I’ll never know: my interest in a protracted meditation on the subject is minimal.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s