Wed. October 4, 1995 @ 6:30ish PM
Sitting in a non-descript cafe on north campus <University of
Michigan>, I struggled through JP Sartre's "Nausea". The novel got
heavier with every page, weighing down on my mind with increasing
intensity. What is this talk of "existance"? Is Sartre neurotic, a
madman, or could anybody, including my own impressionable self, fall
victim to the perpetual consciousness of nothing? I have believed it to
be true and have myself gotten a suffocating glimpse of the Nausea Sartre
speaks of.
What grounds me in reality, often prone to paranoias and
delusion? Music, of course! The only . . . force which can fill me with
such inspiration, joy, purpose. Close my eyes and feel the music,
listening beyond hearing, escaping the trivialties that pinch and
pick at my head. Float above, well-up with ecstasy, tears forming at the
corners of my eyes. How do I put these feelings into words? How do I go
about making JPS understand, as he struggles to make me understand him?
I come upon the last five pages. Ironically, Jamiroquai is piped
into the previously silent cafe. My despair, my dwelling on JPs
banterings are distracted momentarily. Words pass before my eyes, but my
mind is paying homage to the ears.
What's this? Sartre's last hour in his town of Bouville and he
requests to hear music, jazz music no less. He listens, he ponders,
he is releaved and the Nausea passes. He feels the music drifting
somewhere beyond the condemnation of existance, embodying SOMETHING. What
it is, he knows not, but ITS NOT NOTHING.
The music changes in my dim cafe. The Police- SYNCHRONICITY . . .
<I'm more concerned with the theme of the song here than the music
itself, if you didn't get it>
JP and I ponder, touched, getting a glimpse of that amorphous,
inexplicable SOMETHING.
PP. 178 " 'That was the day, that was the hour, when it all started'"
JP begins to understand . . .
Apologies if this is long, if this does not seem appropriate, but I
assume that we are all fascinated with the power of music or else we
would not be here, right? Wanted to share with my fellow idealists this
real life experience. Peace and don't lose your rhythm.
BUBBLICIOUS