Extent of Ennui

Edvard_Munch_-_Melancholy_(1894)
Melancholy (1894) by Edvard Munch

Some days I feel so lonely and bored with actual humans around me that I chat with Amazon customer services. Or the AI Jabberwocky. Basically anyone or anything with a modicum of intelligence and without a face will do. The best thing about corporate customer services is that you can talk to them about the dumbest things and still they will engage you with polite, pro-dummy conversation. Once I complained to CS about “the pathetic inflexibility of their policies” of which I knew absolutely nothing, and they were all “sincerest apologies for the disappointment caused” by them, with firm assertions that they will do something about their policies. I know they are just kidding, but it sure is a warm feeling to be taken seriously when you are just messing around.

I’m using the word ennui somewhat loosely in the title. It sounds sophisticated and cool. From binge watching tv dramas to pointless manslaughter everything is ennui. Now that we have used up the word to its best misuse, we would need another word, preferably from a Japanese subcultural slang, to express the heights of self-negating, self-destructing boredom with a capital b which is post-post-modern and defies all existing definitions. After all it’s the past we are competing against. In psychoanalytic terms, it’s either Daddy or Mommy that you strive against.

This is boredom über, mega, unthinkable, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. We are stuck in a paradox. An infinite loop within a loop of meeting the same people over and over again in different forms at different places starting with each from Ground Zero to the limit where you hit their defensive barrier and lo! you are back at Ground Zero. While you are so well enclosed within your individual shell and you know it, there’s no point in trying to break through and truly and immediately communicate with the other. There’s no point to communication at all because it is ultimately a way to preserve the loop, which is paradoxically intended to preserve communication and all things social. You understand now when I say we are at the extent of ennui. It’s not merely boring, now it’s boring, boring, boring.

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