Naïve. Super

by Erlend Loe

Everything seemed meaningless to me. All of a sudden. My own life, the lives of others, of animals and plants, the whole world. It no longer fitted together.

I sat there thinking this had to be the pits. I was afraid that I had become fed up with life, that I would never ever feel enthusiasm again.

To me, growing older has for a long time been associated with a certain uneasiness. I generally don’t give a toss about space, but I have a problem with time. While I was getting dressed I realised there was no way I could spend this day doing the same things I used to spend my days doing. The days would have to become different. The nights, too.

I am thinking that I need to start from scratch. How does one start from scratch? Yesterday I made a list of what I have and what I don’t have.

won’t even out. Some of what I have I could easily do without, and several of the things I don’t have appear to me as central to living the way I’d like to live.

There are limits to what I can handle right now.

I’ve never met a single master. Everything points to me having to take care of myself. I am trying to think who I look up to. There aren’t many of them.

I am convinced that it’s all about eagerness. That it’s missing. I must find it. Get it back. It’s out there. It’s probably pointless to talk about it. It’s a bit Zen. I’ll never make it as long as I try to. Only when I don’t try, will I make it. Fucking Buddhists. They think they’re so bloody clever.

I know a helluva lot. I’m not the only one who knows these things. Many people know more than I do. That’s fortunately not my problem. My problem is what I am supposed to use it for. What do I do with it? It’s confusing.

It’s been a long while since I’ve looked at a girl and thought that she’s the kind I’d like to see more often, maybe as often as every day. But I am thinking it now.

I think everything will be a lot better when I get a girlfriend. It’s a terribly immature thought. But I am still likely to hope it might be true. I would in any case not exclude it.

Perspective is one of those things one ought to be able to purchase and administer intravenously.

What’s hectic about all this is the thought that I haven’t asked to be here. I am just here. So is everybody else. We are all here. But we haven’t asked to be. It’s not our fault.

When the universe is ephemeral, one can easily feel that human existence is meaningless. Why should I do anything at all? On the other hand it is tempting to try and make the best of it. I’m here, anyway. The imagination won’t cope if I try to picture where I’d otherwise be.

Why don’t I have a girlfriend? I can’t see any good reason. People not half as friendly as I have girlfriends. Idiots have girlfriends. I absolutely ought to have a girlfriend. There is a lot of injustice and idiocy in the world. I guess that’s part of my problem.

They’re strange things, girls. One can’t avoid them. They’re so pretty. And they’re everywhere. They always make like nothing. I like their voices. I also like it when they laugh and smile. And when they walk. They’re also a bit scary. Sometimes I think they know something I don’t. But they’re pretty. And hard to get. It never ceases to amaze me that even the friendliest girls become attracted to the most rotten boys. My only chance is to not pretend.

There’s something very strange about girls. First they’re not there and everything is a little difficult. But then they’re there, and things become nicer. It happens incredibly fast. It only takes a few seconds before everything is nicer.

I think everything is the Empire State Building. I’ve been thinking that way all day. But my brother says we haven’t seen it yet. I’m thinking it again now. This is New York. I’m letting myself be overwhelmed.

Americans seem to live according to the simple theory that two is better than one, three is better than two, etc. For example, they believe two hundred dollars is better than one hundred. It’s a cute theory.

Seeing as I’m not a dog owner in New York, that also means everybody else could be something other than what they seem to be. That means it’s impossible to know anything at all.

Things have to work everywhere, and on many levels. It all has to work on a personal level, with the family, at work and with friends, in the local community, and of course globally. Quite a few things have to gel.

I don’t think I am any different from other people. I have the same dreams. I want a family. I want a house. A car. Why shouldn’t I want that? Everybody does. And when I have it, I want it all to work. I feel I am starting to care about all these people.

I am thinking, we’re in this together. Keep it up. It’s going to be just fine.

I’m so far away from home. In a big city. All the people. And I am only one. The only thing I can be sure of at any given time is what I am thinking myself. I have no idea what the others are thinking. Do they think space is big and dangerous? I do. What do they believe in? I think nobody ought to be alone. That one should be with someone. With friends. With the person one loves. I think it is important to love. I think it’s the most important thing.

My brother nods. He asks me whether I have ever considered thinking less. I tell him I consider it all the time, but that it’s not that easy.

The only question that really counts, must be this one: are things getting better or are they getting worse?

And all this stuff about what’s going to happen in a billion billion years really just doesn’t concern me. I suddenly realise. It might be egotistical, but I am more concerned about what’s going to happen while I am alive than about what’s going to happen afterwards. Thinking about this is an enormous liberation.

I am thinking that I believe in cleansing the soul through fun and games.

My brother thinks claiming that everything used to be better is a dead-end street. But different is a word he enjoys.

I am sitting on a bench looking at all the people. It’s good for me to see so many other people who are not me. That there are so many others. I feel affection for them. Most of them are doing the best they can. I am also doing the best I can.

I imagine that I am feeling better now that I have returned the helmet, than I would have had I never taken it. It’s really weird that way.

One can say a lot of things about New York, but I feel convinced that it is one of the few places in the world where you can have fun even when you don’t try.

Yep!

I look well, he says. That’s the important thing. Money is not important. Money comes and goes. But brothers are important. Brothers are more important than money, my brother says.