Good morning, afternoon, or whatever is appriopriate in your time zone on the exact moment you started reading this sentence.
I don't know Italian. I do know about magical thinking. I'll attempt to explain what I mean with that, but I'll need to wake my brain up first. Coffee is a good start in theory, but physical activity is not required in this case. I should calm down, rather, take a deep breath, and wait four days. Starting now. Well, I don't mean I won't do anything for four days, that would be weird and extremely boring. No, I mean I won't attempt to speed up time. Time is precious enough as it is and rather then fast-forwarding to the moment you anticipate one should try to enjoy all the other little niceties of life while waiting for the good stuff. It's what I call the 'buffet' approach (if that's a correct translation) instead of the 'roadkill' approach (this is the other way; I don't have a clue what a proper Dutch term for roadkill would be).
Okay, I'm calm, and I have to wait quite a long time, so I should be able to write.
This was written the day before yesterday. I'm still not capable of clearly formulating my thoughts in a way I'd like to present to you all. I know what I'm thinking, what it is that I want and how I feel, and I know what I would like to tell some of you and in which way. To one of you I would simply smile broadly and do a dance, gleefully cheering. "Words are not be the right way to express myself," I would tell you. Another I'd tell the whole story, interrupting myself occasionally while cheering giddily. I'd say: "You are maybe the only one who can really understand why I would be this happy. Yay for similar souls! High five!" (Well, probably not literally those words.) Yet another would have to suffer through a conversation about another subject, during which I would occasionally take a glance out of the window and sigh in eternal bliss, to provoke a rather obvious question. My answer would be: "I'm sorry, I'm just really happy," refusing to let my mysteriousness slide. The only purpose of such a conversation is to annoy someone really badly. Also a possibility, in the case of some people who never read this blog but who share in my nonsense anyway, is to listen to my exaggurated tales of great exploits. I won't even give an example, because they are shamefully untrue, laughable, stereotypically 'manly,' and rather sexist. Also, that way I would be giving away my strategies and my hidden mindset. I don't want to show all my cards just yet, that would ruin the whole game.
My problem with the story is, as aforementioned, that I cannot find a way of telling it that appeals to everyone reading this. I tried it before, an attempt that failed because it was too freaking vague a story. I am compelled to transmit my story though, like many humans with me. Everybody has something to tell and great joy lies in sharing your tales with a willing audience. It's the reason great villains tell the heroes of their master plans before they activate the unneccesarily slow and intricate machine of death, because they are hopeless social rejects who really just want people to pay attention to them. (It's all because their parents never showed enough affection to them, you know.) I would make a good villain, I think. Telling everything there is to tell, and then killing the person you told it to sounds like an excellent therapy. Maybe I should start trading in the abduction business, selling poor souls to rich bastards in need of therapy. Sounds like fun.
The solution to my dillemma (in short, my dillemma consists of my desire to tell my story and my desire to tell it in a diffrent way to everyone who reads this) is continuing the story. Which I will, next tuesday.
Hugo Maat.
Ps: If I were an apple-pie, I'd spontaneously collapse. If I were a soufflé, I'd quickly close the oven.
Okay, I'm calm, and I have to wait quite a long time, so I should be able to write.
This was written the day before yesterday. I'm still not capable of clearly formulating my thoughts in a way I'd like to present to you all. I know what I'm thinking, what it is that I want and how I feel, and I know what I would like to tell some of you and in which way. To one of you I would simply smile broadly and do a dance, gleefully cheering. "Words are not be the right way to express myself," I would tell you. Another I'd tell the whole story, interrupting myself occasionally while cheering giddily. I'd say: "You are maybe the only one who can really understand why I would be this happy. Yay for similar souls! High five!" (Well, probably not literally those words.) Yet another would have to suffer through a conversation about another subject, during which I would occasionally take a glance out of the window and sigh in eternal bliss, to provoke a rather obvious question. My answer would be: "I'm sorry, I'm just really happy," refusing to let my mysteriousness slide. The only purpose of such a conversation is to annoy someone really badly. Also a possibility, in the case of some people who never read this blog but who share in my nonsense anyway, is to listen to my exaggurated tales of great exploits. I won't even give an example, because they are shamefully untrue, laughable, stereotypically 'manly,' and rather sexist. Also, that way I would be giving away my strategies and my hidden mindset. I don't want to show all my cards just yet, that would ruin the whole game.
My problem with the story is, as aforementioned, that I cannot find a way of telling it that appeals to everyone reading this. I tried it before, an attempt that failed because it was too freaking vague a story. I am compelled to transmit my story though, like many humans with me. Everybody has something to tell and great joy lies in sharing your tales with a willing audience. It's the reason great villains tell the heroes of their master plans before they activate the unneccesarily slow and intricate machine of death, because they are hopeless social rejects who really just want people to pay attention to them. (It's all because their parents never showed enough affection to them, you know.) I would make a good villain, I think. Telling everything there is to tell, and then killing the person you told it to sounds like an excellent therapy. Maybe I should start trading in the abduction business, selling poor souls to rich bastards in need of therapy. Sounds like fun.
The solution to my dillemma (in short, my dillemma consists of my desire to tell my story and my desire to tell it in a diffrent way to everyone who reads this) is continuing the story. Which I will, next tuesday.
Hugo Maat.
Ps: If I were an apple-pie, I'd spontaneously collapse. If I were a soufflé, I'd quickly close the oven.
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1 opmerking:
Oh, man, ik probeer te bedenken waar ik je PS eerder gehoord heb, maar ik weet het niet meer! Frustratie!
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