Hi. Welcome back, I say to myself.
A lot has happened in the meanwhile. I decided to delete my blog. I am all for streamlining information, and since my blog does not provide much added value, much news, it should not be around just to dilute other people's messages.
But still, I decide to keep it. I received some encouragement from some friends to keep going. So, here it is.
This time, somewhere between wondering why there was no summer in Amsterdam, wondering how friendships are built, strengthened and then eventually let go off, but mainly, wondering why I changed my mind and decided to write this blog post.
I do not know any of the answers ot the above, and I also do not have an opionion about it, I am merely observing the state things are in.
I am sitting on the sofa and looking at the streetlamp dancing in the wind. I should water the plants, the basil in the window looks sad. Hm, I love plants. They are quiet. But they actually say a great deal, if you observe them. Well, I am not always sure what they are trying to say, but I flatter myself by thinking that they are happy around me. And that makes me happier. (A rather simplistic philosphy, I am aware of it.)
So, I was looking out of the window. I had this thought.
Ok, I am reading the Shadow of the Wind, an OK read. In the book is a writer, he sits in his attic in the armchair, typewriter turned towards the window, window overlooking a Notre Dame, or other touristic thing in Paris. It's ...1933. The writer is broke and sad. What else.
In my view, the window should overlook a park, not the Notre Dame, for inspiration, but that's a detail. Since I am in the mood of flattering myself, I say: I want to have such and old armchair in the attic, window to the park, inspiration for writing. I would write on a type writer... no, it's too tiring for the fingers to keep punching those old buttons. On an electric typewriter .... no, the noise of it kills all inspiration. By hand ....that takes way too long. On a laptop...whay bother being broke in the attic in Paris if I write the novel on a laptop? Ok, none works. Hm, but if technology would allow for a "thought transcriber", to be used in inspired moments only, by taking this magic item in your hand and simply thinking what you would write...that could work!
But then, everyone would become a writer, just like now so many people are amazing bloogers, photographgers, networkers...it would become simply too easy. And that wuld most definitely kill off the romance! And here's the practical morale I got out of my thought process: while watching tv in the background last night, I saw this kids book (by Hallmark) that has a voice recorder. It's for busy mums. You read the book once out loud, record your voice and give the book to your kid. After this, the kid can listen to the story, told by you, without you being there. How awesome is that! And how lonely for the kid!?
A heavy movie... a biutiful one! I cannot tell you the plot, otherwise you won't enjoy it. All I can say about it that it messed with my head and I have been feeling down/weird the whole weekend!
