[Given a lift by the mutual attachment at reli[e]able signs.]
± It is one evening while F. is commuting that he feels, yet again, that he is losing interest in things. He shrugs his shoulders at the possibilities this evening.
± There are conversations with his partner, and maybe one with a friend or relative on the phone, but these, he knows deep down, and as much as it pains him to admit it, he has often grown as accustomed to as the guilt in letting custom obscure these people.
± He could say the same about the entertainments that parade before him in ever growing numbers. They force a sigh from him at how they ever kept him from other people. Perhaps the two things are related? Perhaps people often take each other for granted because they join each other in distractions engineered to keep them apart?
± There is always the evening meal. Whether to settle for convenience or to interrogate the cupboards and fridge for something truly interesting; yes, that is the inescapable question. The thought of eating makes him sigh again. He concedes that his is a privileged evening lying before him.
± There are those for whom there are few options to lose interest in. He concedes further that he has some interest, a cool interest, one that goes with having options and any interest in them at all. But it is this very cornucopia of options that tries his interest so. He must continually judge them to show who he is in his judgements. He must continually show attachments to them too, yet with the cool indifference of detachment, for detachment towards attachments shows that he could change his mind at any moment, being the free subject he is. And it is on evenings like this that he is exhausted with facing it all.
± So on this evening he judges that his first judgement is to make a new attachment. When he gets home he will open the telephone directory and look up clubs for those who are losing interest. There must be others like him who spend their days expanding on their options they spend their evenings indifferent to. If there is no such club, then there should be one; henceforth, F. resolves to set one up should there not be one already, and he resolves to call it ‘The Club for Those Losing Interest’. The club is where those losing interest can get together and talk about all the things that interest them no longer. It is good to spend time with people with similar uninterests.
± But hold on: we encounter a knot. The members are united in their interest in losing interest. Their detachment from things leads them to an attachment to each other, the club, and their discussions in it about their detachments.
± F. concentrates on the road ahead. It is easier to lose concentration when the road is empty – easier still when your mind is interested in something else. This is when accidents happen.
