Toilet Ruminations #102

I have little ambition to do anything. I just want to sit here on the toilet and think. Is motivation something that vanishes like money or air? Does it gradually dissipate? Does a person get so beaten down by life that motivation or ambition gets worn out? Like a break pad? I have to force myself to do most things. I am not interested in much. Sex grabs my attention. I can be interested in all things sexual, but motivating myself to do something sexual is a different story. The fantasies dominate my mind but there is little fuel for action. I have little interest in doing anything really. I have a large record and book collection and on most days these objects are a burden. I don’t want to read or listen. I have to force myself to listen to records since I have spent so much money on them. I have always wanted to write novels. Everyday I have to force myself to write. I am continually forcing myself to do everything I do. What comes innately? Very little. Everything requires a push. Even going into my backyard. Maybe this is why I have no motivation or ambition to do anything. I use most of it up just to keep the basics going. To exercise, to eat, to get dressed, to earn money. After these things there is little left. When young I presumed I would do my great work when older. I would accomplish the things I wanted to do when older. For now, I told myself, I will just enjoy my life. For now, I told myself, I will just experience being young. For now, I told myself, I will be free. When I get older, I told myself, then I will get down to work. The things I have told myself have never worked out as told. Now that I am older I still tell myself that I will get down to work another day. Obviously it is not in the proverbial deck of cards for me. I am now older and have the equivalent motivation as a car with a gas tank almost on empty. I don’t want to do anything. I am so unotivated that I need my wife to drive me places if I am to go anywhere. If I do almost anything I need someone else to do it for me. Left to my own resources I will not do a thing. I will clean. I will read a few pages in a book. I will ignore everything else. But I have never wanted to do anything. I may have had more energy when younger but I did not have more motivation or ambition. These things have always alluded me. Now I lack the requisite energy and interest. I am a flat balloon. A wallflower. A dyspeptic bundle of unrealized dreams. A dweller in fantasy. Yet I still have the belief that I can do it. I still think that this illusive motivation is to be found someplace and I will utilize it to manifest the things I want to do. I tell myself. I tell myself. I tell myself. I know that despite my lack of interest in anything. Despite my absent motivation to do anything I must keep at it. My time may never come, I tell myself, but I must keep pushing through. I must keep forcing myself. I tell myself I must get back to work. I tell myself I must keep writing. I tell myself I have several good novels in me but don’t know how much time on planet earth I have left. I tell myself now is the time to get down to work. I tell myself I will do it. But today comes and I don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything. My desk has a magnetic forcefield around it that pushes me in the opposite direction. Tomorrow I will. Maybe later today. But little is of interest to me. Beyond the idea of watching a naked woman have sex, I get excited by nothing. To force myself to do something when the interest is gone is a Herculean undertaking. I’d rather sit here on this toilet and think. Ask my wife to order Take Out.

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