My life as an amateur. Part 51.

 It is best to say nothing, when someone else does the talking. I was invited for a garden party this afternoon. I am not so fond of parties and doing small talks. I need to tell this friend that I am not coming, telling her a lie about having family issues.

Last night I had a recall about W. I didn’t see in years, until a month ago. He is making a film and he is busy with it his whole life. He is almost seventy now and it is a comical film in black and white. I played once in it, I was told to fall out of an ambulance while driving. I was pregnant at the time. My son is 24 years old now.

 A mouse came to live in his room, when he needed to go on holiday he took the mouse in a private suitcase on the train to Switzerland. With holes in it. O, and by the way, I do not intend to take notice of external opinions. 

I try to make white paintings. I try not to go to dinner in a restaurant. Tonight we went to a restaurant because there had been some important events in the lives of the children. It didn’t take long and the waiter was nice and I just took a salad and a bottle of water. Another waiter threw a big chicken on the floor, by accident. It was the neighbour’s chicken. Today I finished the same painting for the third time. I am satisfied but it is still not white enough. I might go living somewhere else, where it is quiet, with lots of silence. Do you follow me? I think that is the best thing to write to a friend. To become an expert in one category.

In other words, everyone can go pleasantly f-word themselves. When you think about it. When you cannot find the white space, to be.

My life as an amateur. Part 50.

 Today is not such a good day. That is a pity but not all the days can be good. You know why. Today however is embarrassingly bad, I don’t even care about art. I listened to Stockhausen the elder and now I am writing this sitting in my white design chair. Well, yesterday I intended a gathering of ex-doctors, these were more or less elderly people who needed to drink enough water, to go to the toilet all the time and even one of them was farthing during the reading about the amount of hospitals in Amsterdam last century. I fell asleep, with a drooping mouth, all the others were wide awake, I think. I better start a band with thoughtful music.

While walking the dog for half an hour ten people smiled at me. Maybe that is enough, maybe I should not write that this is enough to live for. A couple of days ago, probably a Saturday, I was going through the racks in a thrift shop, very swiftly, when I heard a mother yelling at her daughter: ‘ Now you listen to me, stop crying, otherwise you go to the hospital’, she repeated this every two minutes. I was wondering what she meant with this threat. I worked very hard. Actually I wanted to leave at five, as I used to do but there was still so much work to do that needed to be done. So I stayed as the others stayed too and finished together. I think that was good. But the dog told me enthusiastically it took too long. I think it is difficult to choose the right thing to do. Stop. There flew a real fly past my ear when I was framing drawings of animals. Should I like animals? Maybe only when they talk, like they do in books.

My life as an amateur. Part 49.

 My sister is seven years younger. This morning I sent her a message for her fiftieth birthday, I wished her a very happy day. She texted me back that her husband had left her after 33 years and immediately had gone to live with another woman. I haven’t seen or heard from my sister for three years, or something like that. I can see some of her life on facebook and instagram. We will be on the phone tonight.

You can choose something and do that thing for a certain range of time, maybe forever. Like you choose to be a hairdresser and run a small enterprise. In five months you are bankrupt and you choose to go work at a police station. In the evening you cook for your boy or girl or another friend and watch your favorite series on your favorite series provider.

I can't do that, I am living somewhere between the police station and the series provider. That’s ok, it is very quiet over here, except for the occasional insects. Yesterday I saw a bit of a documentary about the poet Gerrit Kouwenaar. His comments on poetry were live-saving. So that is great for me. Mental note: listen to music by Karl Heinz Stockhausen, his grand work Aus Licht.

There is to notice some panic when I do not have control. I could give some examples here but it actually matters the whole of life.

The favorite aunt of my former boyfriend ( not that it matters) went on a holiday a very long time ago. Her cat stayed at home and needed to eat while she was away. So she took seven saucers to put seven meatballs on them. And off she went.