trois Book: un Journal
a happy death;
albert camus.
Journal [number 1] by seth king-gengler:
I never would have thought to open a book and read about a man going to a villa, opening up a chest, placing a revolver against a man’s temple and pulling the trigger. But that’s not the confusing or shocking part – the man who was killed was calm and took in the beautiful morning beyond his window.
Reading a little more, I am reminded of The Stranger; the main character is named Patrice Mersault, and he has a strange relationship with a woman named Marthe. Other places like Celeste’s cafe and the scene of [Patrice] Mersault looking down on the streets below his balcony, watching kids going to the stadium and coming back hyped up, and the boys coming home from a dramatic picture show… even the part of him breaking off a piece of chocolate (which I had to get some chocolate after reading that part, again) and coming back out to nibble on it. It was pretty scary reading that, and I almost felt like I was going to be disappointed, for obvious reasons why.
The best thing happened though: Patrice’s relationship with his girlfriend went into more detail, ten-fold. Unlike The Stranger, we learn of more complex feelings and thoughts that Patrice has. On a night out on the town, Patrice feels nothing less than euphoric while looking at Marthe and all of her beauty. Before the show started, she noticed a man and went to up to talk to him for a moment, and when returning to her seat, Patrice noticed the man was staring at the back of her head. His extacy soon turned to jealous drama. He couldn’t stand it, and went into heartbreak, and absolutely needed to know if he was an ex-lover and how many others (with knowledge of their names too) she’s had.
This section REALLY confused me, just because I would never want to know about somebody’s past, simply because the past isn’t the present. Anyways, the only conclusion of this example was to show the existentialist (or absurdist) message of experiencing everything that life has to it, the good and the bad. In a way, really, it’s all good, according to Nietzsche .
