You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You can't be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man.
How insipid the world tastes! How dreadful that one has to rise again tomorrow, to eat again, to live again! Then why does one go on living? Why are we so idiotically good-natured? Why didn't we jump in the lake a long time ago? The anxiety, the being trapped by the unalterable, the melancholy, the aversion. The anxiety was there again, anxiety from childhood dreams, from fairy tales, from the things a schoolboy had to go through. Devils have been here and shrilly untuned me, string by string. It is not the wine I drank yesterday, and it is not the bad bed I slept in, and it is not even the rainy weather. In the shallow water along the beach, raindrops are splashing a cool and moist wind fusses in the damp trees, which glow leadenly like dead fish. The evening will go past, I will be able to sleep, tomorrow everything will be different. I will be smoking good long Brissago cigars and holding my wine glass up to the fire, till it glitters like a blood-colored gem. We'll have a fire in the tavern fireplace, so I won't any longer have to see or bear this lazy, slack rain. We will soon bring something gleaming back into the world, and find life more bearable. Tonight I will have baked fish, and drink a good deal of the local red wine. The mood is devilish, the air is flabby and tormenting, my thoughts are gloomy, and there is not a gleam in the world. Perhaps I drank too much wine last evening, or too little, or else I dreamed about troubling things. Instead of these, a morbid and dark sky nervously and ill-humoredly releases its morose shower of rain into the lake, and I creep along, no less nervous and ill-humored, through the changed landscape. I thought this evening was going to be much more pleasant for me, dinner and a night's lodging at the fisherman's inn, a walk on the beach, bathing in the lake, perhaps a swim in the moonlight. Irresolution and a bad mood prevail in the sky. The clouds constantly fall apart, and new ones are always there. The dampness falls and rises endlessly in the dense air. There is a kind of rainy weather that is refreshing and cheerful. I am walking on the beach, near the inn where I am staying. It is trying to rain, over the lake the gray and flabby air hangs anxiously.
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