I can't do it. I can't bloody do it.
Maybe I'm too dumb, too illiterate, or both. Maybe I should have taken the full-semester course rather than the short summer course. Maybe I would do better if we were reading the novels; The Stranger and The Seducer's Diary and whatnot.
All I know for sure is that trying to read Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and Camus fills me with a deep, unrelenting loathing that makes me feel nauseous and makes me want to hurl the book across the room, preferably into a fire. And based on this I'm pretty sure Sartre and Hiedegger will make me feel the same way.
The study drug doesn't help. All it does is give me the ability to peruse multiple pages of nonsense before giving up in disgust, rather than a single paragraph. Even the lectures, which used to be my only way of understanding anything, are failing to penetrate my thick skull. All I see is page after page of shit, horrible bullshit that means nothing to me and is worth even less. It's so much fucking noise, and only Nietzsche comes close to being tolerable because at least he seemed to have a notion of what a joke the whole venture is.
What truly burns me though is the knowledge that by taking this class and paying tuition, I am supporting an institution which exists for precisely one purpose. That purpose is allowing airheaded rhetoriticians to make a living by writing 200-page treatises on subjcts of exponentially increaing irrelevance using poorly defined terms and inexcusably vague generalities, and babble on with other such airheads on these subjects in a neverending game of trying to prove to each other how clever they are while drinking coffee in the morning, liquor in the afternoon, and smoking cigarettes.
Like I said: probably just too stupid or too unprepared for the class.