What I said on Tuesday leads me to think that the only course of action is to gain as much enjoyment and pleasure out of life as possible. A sort of nihilistic hedonism: but then I think maybe no, Buddhism could have something and there’s got to be more. . . .
It was an average sort of day: bad tempers at home, fraying over support for Jardine’s reintroduction of capital punishment, me saying no, its like amputating diseased limbs without trying to find the cause of the disease, Mum saying, “it's sickening bringing children up and they never agree with you” and “you don’t even see eye-to-eye with us over anything! You wonder why you bother.”
And I’m left with that familiar, pretentious, sick, I-don’t-really-know-anything feeling inside, Mum’s lips thin and hard as she spits out her despair and anger over muggers and crime: “It’s people like you who’ve got us into this situation.” Me feeling wronged, in the wrong.
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