Ennui is a disease of the rich.
I heard, or read, sometime, somewhere, that the poor are too busy to feel ennui. If that’s true, then I must be quite wealthy indeed. I don’t know what’s going on, but I just feel a general lack of passion for, well, for pretty much anything right now. Just sort of empty, hollow and disconnected from everything that means anything. I suppose, if I were more concerned about day-to-day living, I’d have less time to be bored with, as the French say, the pain that is life.
The funny thing is, like the French, when I get this way, I crave cigarettes.
Should I feel sad that I haven’t indulged in a smoke while still suffering the disease of the rich?
Or, should I be happy that life is going so well that this is my biggest problem?
Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"It pays to be obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety."