Disgrace

We are dead men, the walking dead. Oh God, the burden of disgust, of absolute disgust! We're disgusted with ourselves, we'll tell anyone who asks us. We've become terrible bores, speaking only of our disgust, and our self-disgust.

Exiled and wretched, Solomon Maimon – the ever-neglected Maimon – was said to give accounts of his disgrace for the price of a drink. And ours? Who will listen to the story of our disgrace? We have to buy them drinks, that's the terrible thing, W. says. We have to pay them to listen to us. Even our disgrace is uninteresting.