Somewhere deep inside, I’m a romantic soul.
I like to submerge in experiences.
Stop sometimes and just stare at what I live through as it is happening. The image of Kaspar-David’s wanderer, who is looking at the valley, is coming out of my nose by now though. You can get immersed in so much empathy, joy by just watching a plastic bag that got picked up by the vortex of a city bus on the prowl.
Sure, this can’t always keep anybody pinned down for hours, but as I’m looking out of the window in my predatory blue “more-than-four” wheeler, and into the kitchens of all the bypassing houses around dinner time a couple of tableau’s catch my eye. The only thing that makes this whole “thing” even more enjoyable is that I have as much to do with my electoral district as an egg with a garlic press. They can be found in the same kitchen but for the most part, they only know each other by sight.
This comes from the fact that my voting rights in The Netherlands are so expansive that they cancelled the only one I have voted in due to a lack of interest. So, my direct influence isn’t even worth forgetting. In the Hungarian land, well, “just visiting” would be a nice status for my native anomaly. Two years ago, I didn’t even have a tax-card. The only reason that I do own one now, is by accident. As for the rest of the world, they seem to do just fine without interacting with me.
But, we got these two systems in which, more precisely formulating that what I almost made too corny, I do live, on which I have no influence. Which also haven’t shown much effect on me, this is not necessarily true but a matter of perspectives, as almost everything is.
Let’s talk a bit about the Cultural Currency Systems now. Or should we just try to figure out how to get the microwave working again? The left gap from the right, there is the cheese. Listen to everybody independent from all of this. Ok, there are a couple of exceptions that I rather wouldn’t share with you. But this is more due to lifestyle or experiences than anything else. Right to left, liberal conservatives, atheist and priest, saints or convicts, all the way to the deranged. Have to admit that in the last case, the free-range before the institutionalized can be found among my contacts. Who knows, maybe they say something interesting, something to think about, to nod to. The interesting part comes when the dice roll changes and lays before me me. What are your opinions about immigration laws? What will be dinner tonight? That, I still have no clue about to this very day. I don’t want to run around the hot porridge, but for some people, the newscast is a luxury item.
Especially if I would like to know something about my survival rate for tomorrow. The mood is not that dramatic, mind you, but the idea is clear. Clear the table, wipe everything above this away and take a take on this. Isn’t it more interesting to look at these things from a more philosophical viewpoint if we have this aberrated luxury, well thank you very much?
So, a round of beer for the table, mine is empty.
Also my wallet. The Repo man is a nice guy, but sometimes he does figure out where I live. Black is also a nice not-color at occasions, as soon as I will figure out how a tax form looks like.
Nietzsche is dead, as the intellectual jokes proclaim. He is not the only one in line. Maybe we should read on a nice day what he has written exactly – whispers the Godly voice. And the romantic is phlegmatically in a rage about why people still get surprised about how life goes. Yes, there is shit. There has been shit. Before now too. Let’s try and get on, with nice and selected profanity’s at the appropriate places, if needed with aim, as the hypocritical motivator is shouting in his dreams.
Yes, hypocrisy should not be forgotten if we are talking politics with a beer in our hands.
How’s your mother? Did she get the chicken soup I sent her? Last time, a complete pineapple did the trick for me, after a day and a half I was fully functional again.
