Will you wait with me for Godot?
The picture above is of Adolf Eichmann's house in Buenos Aires (Argentina), seen from the direction of the bus stop where he would go to and from work at his job in a Mercedes-Benz automobile factory. It's, so to speak, in the middle of nowhere -- like "Bloomfield" in Baltimore Maryland (USA) where my parents had a lower working class house when I was 3 or 4 years old. That house has apparently since been torn down and the current neighborhood (still lower working class) was not there at that time or maybe the exact location of that house is now part of a superhighway "cloverleaf"? It was just a stark house on barren ground with some weeds growing (I presume there was no need to mow grass).
It's a wonder they can get away with calling it "bread".
So I imagine myself going to the bus stop after Eichmann had been captured and taken away and the house who knows what has became of it, continued to be occupied or not. So I would not go out there expecting to meet Godot concerning whom I know nothing, but expecting to separate the wheat from the chaff by all those who are looking for answers not questions, respectfully, or less respectfully, saying "Goodbye!" and rushing off some place more to their suiting. Let them eat Wonder Bread, which helps make people stay normal, which, of course, is normal.
There are things to do here, such as to think about how nice many business offices are to spend some time in if I don't work there (or any place else), and nobody else is there except a night watchman.
Life should be meaningless
For life to have meaning would be bad. Why? Because any meaning life could have would probably be something people would try to extract from me such as dying for some Good Cause that makes life meaningful for them. For instance: defending the country are living in where I too am stuck residing, in a war: "Better dead than red.", etcetera and so forth. They get off on honoring "heroes".
Since they have not cared to help me enjoy my life I see no reason to help them enjoy their lives at my expense. If their imaginations are so impoverished that they need "meaning", like transferring popcorn kernels in a big paper cup into their mouths to masticate while watching a movie, to keep from being bored to death, that's unfortunate, but it's not my fault; I see no reason to exert my self to fix a problem I did not cause, especially when it would cost me to do so. Neither should they make my life be worthless, nor treat me with indifference or as human resource.
"Meaning" is sort of like a dead mouse on the kitchen floor the cat has caught that I have to dispose of in the trash, except that I like the cat and I pity the poor mouse. They do not have such feeling for me, even though I, like or unlike them, am a person and the name they gave me does mean: something for them to walk on.
Invenit et fecit
