When the bulk of routine drips, day after day, into practical matters, into banal activities that impose themselves on all the others, it is very difficult not to curse existence. The simplest solution: prevent the intellect from manifesting itself, silence the mind, never let it expand. Being late, what to do? seeking pleasure in practical life? getting a wife? children? Perhaps… Otherwise, it is to react against the imperative of necessity and, suffering the consequences of disdain for the convenient, find satisfaction in the voluntary act of revolt. There is nothing to curse… is there?
Contradict the Convenient
