I’m in town, with all its accompanying frustrations, with all its beggars, sales-people in the streets and thieves, with all the humans making all those noises you don’t want to hear, with all the humans being all those things you don’t want to see or know. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer not to know my neighbours are animals. In case they really are animals, like the dog next door, it’s of course a different thing altogether. Walls are paper-thin. Summer is spent with windows and balcony doors open. I do not want to live in a zoo, unless it hosts animals of the furrier kind. I’m sure, however, that hanging around with orangutans would be easier than moving down the street without being accosted by various obnoxious elements. Yes, I’ve really had it with people selling things or ideas. When they have to chase the costumers (or try to fool them), it doesn’t speak well of the quality of the product. I hope you can smell my frustration. Cities simply attract too many people in an area way too small to harbour them. That’s the whole issue with cities. Otherwise they’d be lovely.
Is anybody even reading this blog anymore? In English? No use asking, I suppose. It’s sort of become obsolete, as far as all the old purposes are concerned. I have little energy for them. I keep seeing waldorf proponents and representatives lying through their teeth; there’s no need to keep pointing it out, it is the same thing over and over again. I know, this is how it’s been for decades — I know this is how it’s going to be for any forseeable future. Until the waldorf schools — and perhaps anthroposophy too — have self-destructed. Until they have caved in under the burden of their own immaturity and incompetence. I am quite sure, you know, that that’s were the ultimate fate of waldorf education lies. At most, a shell will remain — a facade resembling what was, imperfectly hiding what is know empty where there was once content (even if we, as critics, might have disagreed with the content, it was there). You see, that’s what happens when you are pretending you stand for nothing special, when you lie about what is your foundation. Soon nobody will really know what it all meant. Not even you — perhaps least of all you. And then you’re done, finished. At most, the shell will be there. A couple of the decorations, perhaps. But why? When there’s no reason for them anymore, why would anyone bother?
I’ve spent time, on and off, on the island. I’ve been painting floors (it’s not all finished, only one colour, or hue, is finished, the second remaining; painted with linseed oil paint, ‘terra verde’). I think I could go on doing this forever. It’s a strangely meditative exercise. I could easily combine painting floors with reading books and taking walks and not spend many minutes more on the internet. Oh, well, maybe it’s not that easy to give up. Still, it’s a lovely thing to do, painting floors. A bit tricky, and quite exhausting.
Midsummer came and went; it passed me by unnoticed, as usual. Or I shouldn’t say ‘unnoticed'; I very much notice it. I’m just not part of it. Even more than is usually the case, I feel like a bystander to life, not a participant. On occasion, I have this desire to belong. Anywhere. I sort of understand why people join cults — not necessarily because of conviction, but to fulfill other needs. Which, by the way, can’t be satiated, because the basic conditions of life remain the same. You just keep the hope up with the help of a useful illusion. I don’t quite manage.
The nights are incredibly light, and I haven’t slept properly in what seems like ages. (Mr Dog, the most adorable furry person in the world, is not quite well, I’m sorry to report. Tummy issues. Perhaps some of the captured bunnies were a bit stale or something.)
Wish I had something to say about old Rudi, but he sticks around, makes very little fuss. Oh, well, yes — I chatted with a lady who claimed she knew what he was feeling right then. What utter nonsense. He verified it to me — she was way off.