Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground is blowing my mind

I’m twelve pages in


His insight is crazy

Part I of notes from underground is the first work in a Walter Kaufmann existentialism anthology that I’m reading

twelve pages man

I have such a better idea of what existentialism is now

Now I know the category into which I fall

The rant of this man, Dostoevsky’s main character, is so much like my blog articles

Only way way way better

And I’m jealous.

it eats at me

The insight and writing chops and just all of it – it is so incredible to read

It has already taught me so much, and there’s so much that I’ve missed

And for all that wisdom

It just hurts that it’s not mine

What is that? What is it that he has, and what is it that I want?

Are they the same thing?

Whatever it is, why do I want it?

Ok, so even considering however painstakingly similar his thing and what I desire could potentially be,

there’s no way they could be identical

because we are different people

This is the logical argument against envy

The other logical argument against envy is:

just watch it play out in other people’s lives! It’s terrible


Well, I know that

But I am certain you all understand from experience the disheartening reality that knowing makes not for heeding and true wisdom manifests as action

Why must a vile-feeling ambition capture my spirit so?

Rampant and berserk, justifying itself by fringe good intentions

“oh yeah sure right yes of course duh I will”

Why must my horses be bulls and my reigns single strands of twine?

Why must I, and every man, process and consider all things with respect to himself and his own situations?

Almost as if he immediately assumes himself to be the most significant ingredient in each thing he encounters?

But how else could we know something, if not through ourselves?

It wouldn’t be knowing any other way, would it?

perhaps also we cannot differentiate between the objects of our desires and the things whose only relation to us is our common status as existers in the world

Oh well, we did not ask to be individuals

but we are

And we still believe in decent men


What can a decent man talk about with pleasure?

Himself, I guess

So, I do.

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