Boredom, I try to dispel its effects, here, now. The notion of clusters, solar systems of activity, have been diffused, mere outlines are left. I was once there. Boredom, an in between state, the state between affairs, a corridor that observes various pin pricks of excitement. What are clusters? Clusters trap the ‘I’ in a little web of titillating signals. Boredom yearns for these signals. When one is bored one tries to relieve it – to escape. Web and escape… the idea of the spider waiting silently for a vibration.
Is there a point of departure from boredom? When one is bored one pursues excitement or remedy to dull its pangs, to ease it to the next cluster of activity. Time is foregrounded. I notice time. It ticks on. How does boredom order me? It says ‘help me! I need anything, something, only not me, me – is blocked.’ ‘I’ has been plugged in a sewage canal of constipation. I don’t want to be ‘me!’ I desire something else, an Other, anything but me. Boredom wishes to shed away its core, its skin, its very constitution. It wants a new circuit, enter a new flow, to focus its desire. It wants new signals. It is a drug fiend hanging out, waiting for his next shot.
Boredom, the ‘dommm,’ emphasied, elongated, blind-eye of desire unfocused, searching for a point of entry. It is desire with no diagram, no invitation. Boredom has no ticket to the plane of consistency.
