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.
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