Today is my birthday. I got some presents like trailrunning shoes with Gore-Tex found on Marktplaats, a novel from Anjet Daanje , ‘De herinnerde soldaat’, the third part of Gerbrand Bakker’s memoir published by Privé Domein, ‘ Moeder, na vader’. I am already very grateful. I made a hummus myself and the rest of the presents I still need to unwrap. I am writing, drawing and reading and I would like to see a film with Frances McDormand. We walked eleven kilometers, the shoes were great. A deer ran from us. Now here might be some drama. I am not sure if I should tell you about it. I am wondering how other people do this living. With the running, making works, having family you love and friends you like, sometimes, learning new languages, having a estranged body, reading books, running errands, the cooking….writing. Like an amateur.
Two things. After a week in France I walked the dog in our neighborhood. I always take the same route to check the little free libraries. In one of them I encountered a booklet with ‘notitions’ by Paul Léautaud: ‘Propos d’un jour’, 1947. In Dutch: ‘Een zeker tegengif’. I can not stop reading this very sharp and ‘honest’ or genuine and against hypocrisy writer. And I definitely want to study harder on the French language. Maybe I can become a different person as this politician promised on the television. Every language a new person.
My father, his boat the Dreamer and his hospitality. He was always inviting ‘friends’ on his boat. Those friends would make fun of him. He didn’t see. My mother did. It was painful because my father thought he was giving them a very special time. He died at the age of 57. My mother didn’t invite his friends for the funeral.She died eight months later. Maybe I already told you about this earlier. I am sorry about that, I never read my writings again. Stop. I find it too embarrassing. And I would most probably stop writing. That would be a pity, wouldn’t it? ( I am not sure about the question mark )
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