I’m married. My wife and I have sex. But I am tired of asking her. Giving her the power. This troubles me because I need to spend my precious time thinking about it. Trying to convince her into having sex with me.

I don’t want to continue doing this. I see my life as a life with purpose. Instead, I prefer to jack off to remove the need from my soul. But you may say, this is an empty experience. You are not enjoying life. What is life enjoyment? For me it is both living in the present and not forgoing your true calling.

I am writing while I need to pee. There is, I believe, a need to write right now about my peeing, I just peed a few seconds ago, so the reason I am writing about my peeing is that there is no logic to the pee.

When I write, will I be like Pessoa, writing about the depressing areas of life?

Will I write, on the other hand, like Henry Miller, and write about the happy areas of life?

I think that Pessoa was happy, and this is an argument I had with Barak the other day. He lived a life worth living.

No one tells you that you have to find time for yourself to be alone as a father.

Otherwise, you have no chance to sit down, think. And there’s a lot to think about. Not just think, catch up with your thoughts and be present.

Being present is not about doing mindfulness meditation while going to work. It’s about doing nothing and noticing it.

How can you do nothing? At work there’s always something. It’s not like a shoe maker. Makes the shoes, stops making shoes.

As a manager, you constantly have to make sure everyone is doing there job.

Jonathan Franzen’s book ‘How to be alone’ holds significant meaning to anyone willing to listen. Franzen starts by recalls a time after he published his third novel, when interviewers asked if this was the big social novel he wrote about in 1996 in a Harper essay. He wanted to go back to the original piece, possibly to rewrite it to make it clear.

There he found an ‘angry and theory minded person’, one who ‘used to be the kind of religious nut who convinces himself that, because the world doesn’t share his particular faith (for me, a faith in literature), we must be living in End Times.’

I like the thought of faith in literature.

“Writing is not a game played according to rules. Writing is a compulsive, and delectable thing. Writing is its own reward.”

Henry Miller’s words.

Become a writer. Live a spiritual life. Dedicate yourself to yoga.

There are so many paths, all leading to one truth.

Growing old, everything is a lost battle. But we still have to wake up, do something. It might as well be an honest attempt at something.

You gain clues. You accumulate knowledge and stuff you write. It doesn’t matter, but it minds.

Two thoughts meet up. One says to another: “It doesn’t matter”. The other: “Do you mind?”

I have a kid, age 7, and a girl, age 4. I don’t want another kid.

I love my kids, but I want them to grow up, so I could pursue my passion, which is writing.

Pursuing my passion means possibly letting go of my job. Living a simple, poor life. Spending a lot of time contemplating, reading and writing.

“I was trying, then, to reduce myself to mv real properties. I had little confidence in my abilities, and with no trouble at all I found within me all that was needed to hate myself, but I was strong in my infinite desire for clarity. in contempt, for beliefs and idols, my disgust for all that was easy .all my awareness of my limitations. I had made for myself an meer island and spent my time reconnoitering and fortifying it.”