Our time has passed, W. says as we head through the quadrangle. It's irrevocable. Why don't I understand that? I'm not Jude the Obscure hammering at the door. I'm not the chancer in the college, the idiot who snuck inside when no one was looking. I'm not getting away with anything. My stupidity is in plain view, and matters to no one.
I'm the idiot who was admitted just as it all came to an end. I'm the idiot at the gates of Rome after the Barbarians had sacked it. No one cares that I'm here. I've broken no law.
What began as tragedy is repeated as farce, W. says. What was repeated as farce is repeated in indifference. An idiot drools: that's your life, that drooling. No one cares. An idiot scratches his head: that's your life, that scratching. What does it matter?
Lars Iyer's Blog 