Journal, December 2, 1976 PM

I’m a lackey, there’s no doubt about it. I have my semi-worthwhile, semi-interesting job. I leave the house at 6:40 or 7:00 in the morning & get back at 6 PM if I don’t go to see the girlfriend. I say that it’s only temporary, & that after one more year I’ll get started on the road to a truly fruitful career. But how many lackeys have justified themselves that way? How many times have I heard similar words? My mind flashes back to Andy Newell, sitting on a barstool in the basement at Delta Theta Sigma {fraternity}, mooching beer & saying, "I’m fucked up right now, but I’m going to get it together . . ."

Jamie {Olson} eats up the lackey life, getting completely into whatever trivial task he’s involved in. <I may be more of a lackey, because I know I’m just diddling around, but tell myself it’s OK, it’s temporary, it’s for Sofia, etc.>

Perhaps there’s nothing really worthwhile one can do in this life. Or at least there’s nothing that one can be sure is worth his intellect, time & effort. There is so much shooting in the dark. Most of our living time is spent: “passing the time of day” or “paseando”, “shooting the breeze” or “choteando”, “having a good time” or “divertiendose”, or thinking up new things to do or places to go to entertain ourselves. The Spanish word entretenerse says it more “up front” than the English entertain.

Last night I made popcorn, & helped Jaime & Pilar, and others “entretenerse.” I watched a soccer game. Today I read about aflatoxins (perhaps semi-useful) & B.S.’ed with Renán {Molina}. <He says he may be related to Sofia.>

Does anyone really know what is worth doing? Or is it just having the self-discipline to convince yourself that what you’re doing is useful enough (or the blindness to accept whatever you’re doing as useful enough)?

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