I’ve read a nice novel just now, titled 2BR02B. It was written by Kurt Vonnegut, one of my favourite writers. He did a great job, once again, though it’s kind of unfair to use such a phrase associated with work in connection with this piece of art. Yes, i call this art. Makes you think about where you go and what you want. It may have only had this strong effect on my currently unstable spiritual world (see the previous entry for more about this).

Why the title? When someone reads such a novel then he thinks about it. It forces you to think, it forces you to imagine, it uses up all your senses. The scene depicted is very much alike to the Phalanstery scene of The Tragedy of Man by Madách Imre (i refuse to use anglicised, reversed names). Also, it brought back memories of an Asimov piece, titled Pebble in the Sky. I thought, if everything in this world is governed by chaotic sensitivity, then why couldn’t one single man change the world? Now, thinking it further, why couldn’t one single man change the world, when another could? Was it because fitful (?) coincidences, the different conditions, their different genes? Really no man has freedom of the ways of the world? I wanted to write, that i believe that i have freedom. But then, i realised such a belief would let no space for such doubts… Nagato-san said so in Suzumiya: words are not sufficient to describe the real ways and the real thoughts. If everything is so sensitive about the initial conditions, then why? Once again, a question i can already answer: as a chaotic system, the world tends to return to its preferred, somewhat stable state, thus giving us no chance to change it. But if we can’t change it, why should we exist? People (including me) often make up such reasons for their lives, like “live a life without regrets” (this is my creation), but it doesn’t help at all with your lives: it doesn’t tell you which path to choose, which decision to make. Though depending on your goal so much wouldn’t be good either, as you’d then lose your freedom, and become a slave of yourself. Is that right? I don’t think so. Then what? Where? Why? Ok, i’m back reading Vonnegut. See you in two weeks.