i just bumped into Jim, a young philosophy graduate turned TEFLer from my last job. We had coffee and cake on my last day and talked the talk about philosophy and our loathing of academia. He has the demeanour of a teenage skater boy but reads Heidegger and Nietzsche.

He asked how things were going. i reported that i’ve had no fish biting yet, though i shouldn’t be surprised – my ads have only been up for a couple of days, and K___ isn’t a golden city of opportunity and terrorism like Hamburg. i should be concerned, i suppose, but instead i feel weirdly happy. Is it the extremely cheap and good Glühwein? Well, a little, but it’s also the joy of uncertainty, of having kicked free of so much. i think sometimes of my deleted blog, The Lumber Room. i regret destroying certain posts but a sacrifice doesn’t have value if you don’t feel it. There is the casting aside of deadwood and there is something close to self-destruction; the latter, if properly managed, is often the only way of punching through a self-made prison. If the prison was constructed especially for you, if it is uniquely and ingeniously yours, the only way to escape is to become a different person; and that is not easy.

At the time i felt nothing more than a desire to delete the blog, a natural reluctance to destroy 4+ years of work, and a sudden, mad need to shrug off all claims and duties, to be free of my own works. i think, now, i was trying to kick free of my past 33 years, and to propel myself into a wholly other future (which, in a sense, is a joining to a further past), to very different energies. Such acts seem insane, suicidal perhaps, to others. But there come points where one needs to break with one’s previous self, and for that one must destroy something valuable: this self-destruction becomes a propulsive fire.

Today i passed the opera house. The next opera, in January 2010, is Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. i would very much like to see this. If it is my fate, i shall find the means to live in K___ at least until then. i was brooding on the opera when i wandered into a second-hand bookshop; the very first book i saw was the libretto, which i bought; tonight i shall listen to it on my ipod and read the libretto, in another of my peculiar attempts to master German pronunciation.

i feel happy, as if i have finally kicked away from the last 33 years. Tonight i shall buy a pizza from my Wagnerian pizza girls, and listen to that opera again.