King of Idiots

I hate being subject to … desires. I hate being at the mercy of my body. Even if I’m nothing but a body. I hate desire. I hate these desires. I disgust myself. I’m disgust and nothing more. I’m saturated with disgust.

I’m disgust and nothing else. There’s nothing leftover. I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot in desire. I’m an idiot in lust.

And in love? What about love, philosopher? Who are you in love?

I’m an idiot in everything.

 

I’m an idiot in everything, but I haven’t reached the limit of my idiocy, yet. The end of my idiocy. There’s still further to do. I need to be more disgusted. More appalled.

And then what?

Then I’ll have broken my ties with all this. With the world. With everything.

Is that what you want to do – cut your ties?

Then I won’t be subject to this. I won’t have to feel these things.

Like some kind of Zen Buddhist? Will you work our way to enlightenment? Is this a Nirvana thing? Like anti-Zen?

 

I’m meant to be the greatest idiot who’s ever lived. That’s my task. That’s what I’m about.

I’m sure you’re using the word, idiot in a way no one else does. You’re making it mean something profound. Like some kind of backhanded compliment to yourself. It’s a way of saying that you’re really really clever. That you’re part of some elect. That’s the philosophical trick, isn’t it?

Socrates said that he knew he knew nothing.

Exactly. He was still Socrates.

 

I crown you king of the idiots, philosopher.