6 January 2026

Green wood: Originally conceived as an enlarging and flattening of a small scene reflected in a bulbous green vase at my new Wood Green house. Learned that “green wood” is the phrase for freshly-chopped wood that hasn't dried out yet (nice alignment with a cut flower stem). Floating feeling of little lights traveling from a surface tension to darker depths. But the painting itself became about dueling material impulses. Thick application versus thin staining, muted tones versus the strong light source(s), measured marks versus ones made with physical momentum. Palette indebted to Joe Brainard's Whippoorwill (1974, the one at The Met). A close examination of that painting, at least from what I can glean in reproduction, reveals a careful, considered back and forth between the warmth of the early layers and the cool topmost ones. The eye also boomerangs across the composition—controlling and playing with that movement is a way to work. And at the bottom of the image, the brown masses that are the floor and the sofa frame sandwich the loveliest slivers of color in the tiny space between them—I hoped something similar would happen in my work, and I think it kind of did in a more obvious way with some red watercolor peeking through. That handling of color, of restrained use in small space, is attractive and something in itself. Happened in On diversion too.

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Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Night Salmon

Fought and few to taste this sea of wonder Ports and calls to forest-see The fry and his future are low In scenes of magic upon this man Fitting mountain roams and to the true North- A fib world and early sign- of better rosted fib for cover And only this whole year to see the Wonder Isle And smolts taking off to browse- the intermittent thanks insipid to involved- A war for gentry palace and call This reef a sign of great espouse of inter-water shine The hope of Nation’s heart to begin and lose and see again Escape against the proxy roam And Heaven making waves For sheltered slander foeing few- but making Salmon rain and safe A porous watch to be the wild And best among the draining sound To hemorrhage litany but of walrus Picking tables in fashion time To be a star Implanting few And doors to aether calling Survival People and in this mode calling other Underway- Of boots to browse the part of nine And night is in her apathy- yet seeing share and self to worth A miniature and his size to not impart love And dameing his witness of shore and plenty Across the beam of dark Emitting light to proper shore And elvers ‘tect the reason near For fish to gaze t’ward Heaven- Thousand sign to this remark The stable in three years- In apogee of Heaven bliss For forty marks a splitting And thinking rouse to all in time The shallow and its Salmon

And so the zoo Where citizens’ affair of the crested flight Through forests in multitude by day Assumptions to where they are, and in mid-flight a jamboree to the hangar Doubling forth but to Digby In apprentices staying bind For reticence dock and May A corporal flight and good To Labrador as Sherman Steady as they come- to this Wind and found Atop the water and waking forth A crying new- to see us there By the stream and up for air Six golden and a thrust Madonna’s hill and moving voice A hen to cluck up In cover by year and to this stand Impressionism the dark And caught by season’s wail And fresh accord To gannet with others And singly without Winter will have to do.

GO HOOSIERS!

Hopefully this game has not been cancelled due to the Winter Storm conditions up in Indiana. I'm tuned into B97 – The Home for IU Women's Basketball, hoping to hear the Pregame Show then the call of this game between the Indiana University Women's Basketball Team and the Purdue University Boilermakers.

And the adventure continues.

I stayed in this weekend. The “schlumpy” heavy feeling has returned to my body. Here I am feeling it right now: from the base of my neck and along down my spine towards my lower back. I don’t know if it’s simply exhaustion or the lack of proper exercise and movement this past week. I thought I’ve stretched some, but not as actively and as consciously as the previous weeks. I also missed out on eating mostly vegetarian this past week. And I didn’t take my daily vitamins and supplements.

I wonder if any of that has anything to do with it. I’m no scientist or doctor, so I won’t ever know that for sure. I’m trying my best to feel and intuit my way through this. If we go down the checklist of basic nutrients… I do not feel like I’ve had enough sun, water or movement this week.

Admittedly, I have been staying up really late watching a lot of YouTube videos on consciousness (i.e. I’m not sleeping very much either). It’s a mix of “revenge procrastination”, actual curiosity and some anxiety that the coming week is my last official week of working at the office.

It’s back to remote work and more idle time for this human.

I notice in my body that I’m not scared… but it recognizes up ahead, is this feeling of uncertainty. It’s a situation or moment that I can’t predict and have no previous information to fall back on. So since I’ve gotten used to the rhythms and demands of working a regular shift, I notice that my body is clearly a little unsure about what it means to having more idle time again. Sleep, is always delicious. I’m trying to remind my body that it doesn’t want to be on “productivity” mode. That this is meant to be a reset.

I’m also writing this on my trusty old Linux. It still works! It’s great for distraction free writing. I needed this. I haven’t been writing regularly, and as I’m sure it is for those of you still here, it’s one of those helpful and medicinal things we’ve consciously added to our hierarchy of needs.

I have a special relationship with Star Wars: The first installment, Episode IV, was the first feature film I saw. Of course, at nine years old, I was mightily impressed and saw the movie many times in theaters.

Reading about the upcoming Episode X, the 10th episode of the original trilogy, makes me sad. The first Star Wars was original and innovative, but stretching a single idea over nearly 50 years (and counting) feels disheartening for human creativity. AI can probably do better. 

Stay entertained thanks to our Weekly Tracker giving you next week's Anticipated Movies & Shows, Most Watched & Returning Favorites, and Shows Changes & Popular Trailers.

Anticipated Movies

• The Wrecking Crew
• Iron Lung
• Rabbit Trap
• Worldbreaker
• ☆ Send Help
• Shelter
• The Moment

Anticipated Shows

• Memory of a Killer
• Take That
• FreeLance
• ☆ Wonder Man
• Under Salt Marsh
• Balance: A Perimenopause Journey
• Terror Man
• Vanished
• Rise of the 49ers
• My Romance Scammer

Returing Favorites

• Shrinking — Season 3
• School Spirits — Season 3
• ☆ Bridgerton — Season 4
• Next Level Chef — Season 5
• Death in Paradise — Season 15
• Mock the Week — Season 22

Trending Shows Status Changes

• Free Bert — Returning Series → Ended
• Power Book IV: Force — Returning Series → Ended
• Queer Eye — Returning Series → Ended
• Finding Her Edge — Returning Series → Ended

Most Watched Movies this Week

• +1 The Rip
• -1 Predator: Badlands
• +1 Rental Family
• +1 One Battle After Another
• +1 Zootopia 2
• -3 People We Meet on Vacation
• new Sinners
• +1 Bugonia
• new Dust Bunny
• -3 Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery

Most Watched Shows this Week

• = Fallout
• = Landman
• new A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
• -1 The Pitt
• = High Potential
• = The Rookie
• -3 Stranger Things
• = Percy Jackson and the Olympians
• new Hijack
• new Star Trek: Starfleet Academy

Popular Trailers

• Parade — Rental Family
• Don't See It With Your Boss — Send Help
• Hold On — Shelter
• Critics Review – “Heart-Pumping Action” — The Beauty
• Have you discovered the secrets from The Bone Temple? — 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple
• Mother Nature — Primate
• Season 2 Episode 4 Preview — The Pitt
• Season 4 Official Trailer — Invincible
• Official Teaser Trailer — Masters of the Universe
• Is this hard for you? — Plainclothes

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Hi, I'm Kevin 👋. I make apps and I love watching movies and TV shows. If you like what I'm doing, you can buy one of my apps, download and subscribe to Rippple for Trakt or just buy me a ko-fi ☕️.

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Oorblog & Rede

Wij geven u volop ruimte om overal en nergens over alles te preken maken duizend en één versies van dingen om energie in te steken zaken om alles wat we voor u hebben gevuld weer te mogen legen reden te over om de hele tijd in voertuigen op en neer te bewegen we regelen allerhande snelwegen en weegschalen om alles te meten laten niks achterwege om alles over u goede leven elke keer te weten als je ons moet geloven en dat is maar beter dan zijn we niet te stoppen een overmacht gemaakt van vergulde eieren totaal niet te kloppen

We vinden ons zelf super enorm uitzonderlijk meesterlijk materiaal om dit te verkondigen maken we van elke ruimte een klankschaal waarin we deze grote boodschaplijst verkondigen tot bloedens toe dankzij onze drugs wordt u ondanks alles dit gedonder nooit moe al kunt u op uw benen niet meer staan komt u niet onder die drug vandaan zit u geketend in een roestvaste baan levenslang in het oog van de orkaan u neemt het ons niet kwalijk, vindt ons toch nog altijd even lief en aardig zou u er anders over gaan denken verklaren onze experts u minderwaardig

Wij geven om u en zeggen dat in elke kerk via alle beschikbare kanalen zenden deze verklaring continu uit en verkondigen dit in miljarden verhalen u bent het beste wat er ooit op aarde heeft mogen rondrennen, vliegen en rijden omdat te blijven doen hoeft u alleen u gelijken met onze wapens te bestrijden te verdelgen als onkruid, als vijandelijk verklaren, met explosieven te bewerken en weet dankzij u gegeven levens en die van u kinderen blijven onze kerken maken we er nog meer zodat we de boodschaplijsten kunnen blijven beheren elk etmaal verdelen, sturen en manipuleren dankzij de zaken die we u aanleren u gehoor geeft aan de kleine stem fluisterend achter de zware stem van het volk uit vrije wil het leven zal ombrengen in een kunstmatig roze gekleurde donderwolk energie zal besteden aan al onze labels, merktekens, ongenoegens en objecten opgaan in een wereld vol fantasietjes die wij met onze middelen voor u opwekten u zult niet veranderen als wij dat niet toestaan en dat gaan we nooit toelaten anders verdwijnen wij met onze handelskerken in de zelf veroorzaakte zwarte gaten

Zolang wij er zijn zit u vast aan de betaalde vertaalde versie van de levende natuur de aangepaste vorm beschreven als economisch noodzakelijke levendige cultuur vol overleg organen, leveranties, hartige taken, verzendingen, inkomsten overzichten, micro golven, wisselstroming, beschermde omgevingen en uitgaande inzichten hier voor nodig is een op levende lijven aangedreven enorme verbrandingsmotor en een schone schijnwereld ter verbloeming van de allesoverheersende dictator die op gezette tijden u kinderen laat opdraven voor noodzakelijke verbranding en de verborgen leider kan dit doen met een simpele uitgezonden noodmelding welke langs alle aangelegde lijnen in u woon, studeer en werk kamers uitkomt en met behulp van overdadig beeld en geluid wordt elke kritiek er op verstomd waardoor u uw eigen kinderen zonder tegen bericht vrijwillig laat opbranden voor een opzettelijk opgewekt probleem geadverteerd als vreeslijke toestanden die de vrijheid om de aangelegde leiding te volgen bedreigen soms zelfs ontkennen u niet langer mag en moet leven in een wereld die anderen voor u konden verzinnen u stuurt daarom zonder twijfel uw harts beminden naar de vers aangemaakte strijd waarna de beminde terechtkomt in de brandstof tank van de motor en overlijdt u zal overblijven met de tekst verklaring dat de zinloze dood super zinvol was door dit offer kunt u in vrijheid de kerk blijven betalen met persoonsgebonden bankpas zodat alles blijft zoals het is al kunt u op uw benen niet meer staan komt u niet onder die drug vandaan zit u geketend in een roestvaste baan levenslang in het oog van de orkaan

Rendez-vous sur https://www.surchauffe.info/

I went to see Suicide Silence, Dying Fetus, and Slaughter to Prevail in Berlin.

I’ve seen Eddy with All Shall Perish on November 25, and it was a great show. Now I have seen him again with Suicide Silence as the opener. They played 7 songs. 4 of them were old and good. The other 3 went by without any emotions. Overall, I had fun, and it was nice to see the “oldies” played live. :)

Dying Fetus played a solid set. Also 7 songs. All of them were a banger. The sound in this arena was incredible.

And then, the main act, Slaughter to Prevail. Oh boy. The sound was a disaster. The bass was too loud (not the bass player haha). The guitars were shouting over, and there was no way to understand Alex. It felt like listening to a newcomer band on their first-ever show. Or how we sound in our practice room. 😅 As a headliner and for +60 €, I expected much more. Last year we saw In Flames on the same stage, and it was remarkable. Such a good sound. But the sound of StP was destroying any fun on this show. Besides the sound, it looked like they delivered a good show. After around 6 songs, Alex had his no-microphone scream. Quite disappointing. It was rushed and not even close to the ones I saw on video. Kudos for trying; this is an incredible thing to do in an arena like this. But it should have been better executed. Like I said, it was rushed. No real announcement; it went silent really fast, then he screamed for 1-2 sec, and it was done. There was room for more. Build it up like in the videos; celebrate it.

Overall, it was a nice concert. And I know, if Slaughter to Prevail plays again, I will not seek to see them once more. If they are playing while I want to see another band, then I'm fine with it and check them out again. But I will not buy a ticket exclusively just to see them.

Once again, the Velodrom UFO is a great location. A lot of space, when well executed, a good sound. Plenty of toilets, good organization, etc. I always enjoy it there.

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94 of #100DaysToOffload
#live #music #concert
Thoughts?

7 more posts and I completed #100DaysToOffload a second time. Crazy. It was around 2 years ago when I created this blog on write.as. The following is more or less a conversation with myself.

I have written a lot since then. Still, I can’t say whether this blog has helped me or not. On one side, yes, I never expressed so much of my life to the public. But have I learned along the way? I can’t really say. One thing is for sure: I have learned that I can write 200 posts without having a plan. My fear was that I'm unable to fill this blog with life and create 100 and then 200 posts that are mostly not complete nonsense. I definitely did not get better at writing. I still write what comes out of my brain with all kinds of typos, spelling mistakes, and grammatical errors. And that alone feels like work. I can’t imagine writing longer posts and refining them again and again. Writing in this blog is like cooking and woodworking; it makes a lot of fun, but only as long as I don’t have to make a living out of it. It makes fun but also stresses me a bit. Because, to please myself and get posts done, I have to force myself over and over again to do it. I did not build a habit in the past two years. I love it, but it also feels a bit like a burden. But I’m happy that I did it. (Funny how I drifted away from the initial question.)

So, what’s the other side? It helped me, but it also made a lot of work, which I had spent somewhere else. Or did it really?

I’m thinking about how I will continue after the 200th post. #100DaysToOffload needs to be completed until the end of January, and then what? Start it again? Write without the challenge? I doubt that I will ever publish a new post without a challenge. Maybe there is a 50-days-to-offload challenge? One with a smaller scope would be nice. One idea would be to write fewer posts but maaaaybeee longer. At least a bit more polished? And then put smaller thoughts and things directly out to Mastodon, for example. Or Bluesky. Does all this even have a future with AI? 😅

But writing on Mastodon or Bluesky stresses me out in some way. Not posting itself, but if someone replies and I have to answer. Over the last few years, I got so bad at replying; it is crazy. I have unanswered WhatsApp messages from 1-2 years ago… Do I really want to take this to the public? 😅 I had small conversations on Mastodon, where I really had to force myself to answer. Not writing the answer itself. To not forget to answer, if I don’t reply immediately, it is gone, and I will forget about it.

How to end this post? I have no idea. In the first place, I thought I would just write a small post, and then it escalated quickly. I don't know what to do with it. I can tell myself to revisit this post in the future, but this isn't going to happen. 😂

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93 of #100DaysToOffload
#log
Thoughts?

Tout au long de votre vie, vous allez accumuler des souvenirs, cumuler des expériences et vous attacher à des objets dont vous ne pourrez jamais vous séparer. Ils sont pour vous des compagnons de route indissociables de votre histoire personnelle. Ce livre que votre mère vous à offert pour vos quinze ans, cette lettre écrite à votre premier amour, que vous n'avez jamais osé envoyer, ou votre collection de timbres, héritage de votre grand-père. Pourtant, quand vous rendrez votre dernier souffle, ces objets retiendront le leur. On vous pleurera quelques jours, quelques semaines, quelques mois, puis, vos proches videront votre maison, bientôt occupée par de parfaits étrangers qui y seront pourtant chez eux. Tout ce qui vous représentait appartiendra bientôt à d’autres et les traces de votre passage sur terre s'évaporeront lentement, une à une, dans la mémoire de vos proches comme par les objets que vous chérissiez. 

Chaque samedi, je me rends dans la déchetterie de ma commune pour y déposer divers encombrants ou restes de chantier. Quand mon travail est terminé, je plonge (littéralement) mon corps et mon esprit dans une benne à ordure d'une genre bien particulier : la benne à papier. On y trouve généralement de la paperasse sans intérêt, le plus souvent issue d’un rangement de printemps ou d’un grand nettoyage par une administration locale : encarts publicitaires, revues touristiques, photocopies, plaquettes de communication, formulaires administratif déchiquetés ou encore papiers de la maison sans aucun intérêt.

Mais parfois, sous cet amas de brouillons, se cachent des trésors jetés ici comme s’ils ne valaient rien. Des trésors, vraiment ? Il l’étaient pour vous, avant d’être confiés à cette grande poubelle, quelques jours après votre disparition. J’y ai lu votre journal intime, celui que votre grand frère n’a jamais su trouver. Je connais tout des sentiments que vous portiez à ce jeune Jean-Michel alors que vous n’aviez que quinze ans, les souffrances que vous faisait endurer votre mère ou la couleur de votre robe préférée. J’ai tenu entre mes mains votre médaille de baptême, cachée dans une vieille enveloppe que personne n’avait pris le soin de décacheter. Votre nom y est resté gravé, ainsi que votre date de naissance. J'ai parcouru votre journal de jeune fille, celui où vous écrivez des poèmes quand vous étiez une jeune enseignante. J’ai lu vos cartes postales, vos livres de chevet, tenu entre les mains vos diplômes, vos réflexions personnelles sur l'actualité des années 1980, les photos de vos meilleures soirées en famille. J’ai feuilleté votre carnet de photos souvenirs, vous qui étiez militaire dans les années 1930, quelque part en France. On vous y voit jeune, fier et heureux, entouré de quelques camarades tout aussi vigoureux. Que reste-t-il de cette époque et de ces hommes dont vous étiez ? Rien. Absolument rien. Votre petit-fils, jusqu’alors gardien de votre mémoire, vient de disparaître à son tour et ses souvenirs ont été jetés ici, parmi les ordures, sans même que vos lointains héritiers ne s’en soient aperçus. Ils n’avaient que quelques jours pour vider votre maison pour la mettre en vente, avant de repartir dans leur région d’adoption. Vous étiez pour eux un vague souvenir, vous deviendrez pour leur enfant une vague impression, une simple évocation, avant de disparaître à jamais de la mémoire des hommes. Ce petit carnet  était la dernière trace de votre existence, bien réelle, témoignage anecdotique de votre très longue vie. Si mon regard ne l’avait pas croisé, par hasard, il serait poussière. Mais je me sens obligé d’en prendre soin, désormais. Je ressens cette responsabilité de préserver ce qui reste de votre mémoire, de vos doutes, de vos peurs, de vos envies, de vos incertitudes. Je veux être un passeur de mémoire dans cette interminable galerie des oubliés. 

Nous ne possédons rien. Nous sommes de simples locataires en toute chose et en tout lieu. Tôt ou tard, nos souvenirs et nos biens termineront dans cette benne à ordure ou se joue le dernier acte de la vie des morts. 

O BBB como espelho do Brasil que muita gente diz odiar – mas assiste todo dia.

Talvez o incômodo seja reconhecimento.

Todo ano é o mesmo ritual. As pessoas dizem que odeiam o BBB. Que não assistem. Que “não aguentam mais”. Que virou baixaria, militância, gente rasa, conflito fake. E mesmo assim sabem quem brigou, quem chorou, quem virou vilão, quem “está sendo cancelado”…

Acompanham pelo X/Twitter, pelo Instagram, pelo WhatsApp… “Não assistem” – mas sabem de tudo.

A verdade é que nunca assistiram tanto.

Se não fosse tão assistido, a Globo não faria novas edições.

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(Curiosidade, consultei o catálogo da GloboAds. Para dar uma ideia: um comercial de 30” durante o BBB (nacional), custa entre R$ 500.000 e R$ 780.000 (depende do dia da semana a ser veiculado). O mesmo contrato, durante o “Jornal Nacional”, custa em média R$ 1.000.000. A surpresa do custo é o custo de tarde, durante o “Vale a Pena Ver de Novo”: custa R$ 210.000).

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Ou seja, sim. Ainda há muito brasileiro assistindo o BBB. Mesmo negando.

Talvez o problema não seja o BBB. Talvez seja o reflexo.

As pessoas dizem que não assistem ao BBB porque ele incomoda… Por quê? Porque ele não mostra um recorte de Brasil ideal que era esperado ver. Ele mostra um Brasil possível. Gente que fala sem pensar, gente que fala o que não devia “da boca pra fora”. Gente que fala bonito e age mal – e vice-versa. Gente que erra tentando acertar e gente que acerta só pra ser aplaudida.

Um país inteiro dentro de uma casa, que não tem filtros suficientes pra esconder as contradições. A gente odeia porque se reconhece.

Reconhecimento incomoda demais.

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É confortável criticar os participantes… Chamar de burros, rasos, manipuláveis. Difícil é admitir que eles falam o que muita gente fala no almoço de domingo, só que sem microfone.

Que reproduzem “preconceitos comuns”, inseguranças comuns, ambições comuns.

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O BBB não cria personagens, ele expõe padrões já existentes. E esses padrões são difíceis de engolir quando não combinam com a imagem que a gente faz de si mesmo, e com a imagem que a sociedade projeta dela mesma: totalmente quebradiça.

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O público gosta de apontar o dedo, mas não gosta de ver a própria mão se apontando.

Basta um paredão pra virar torcida organizada, guerra moral, linchamento digital.

O mesmo público que acusa o programa de ser tóxico, participa ativamente da toxicidade. E participa com prazer.

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Existe também uma hipocrisia silenciosa na crítica que faço ao BBB. Dizem que o programa “emburrece o país”, como se ele fosse a causa - mas ele é o sintoma.

Como se o Brasil fosse um oásis de debates profundos interrompido por uma prova do líder.

O BBB não empobrece o discurso nacional. Ele já é empobrecido.

Ele tira o filtro. Mostrando como falamos quando achamos que ninguém importante está ouvindo. E ter uma câmera mostrando “o que estamos fazendo/falando” é muito incômodo. Fazer uma autocrítica, uma autorreflexão, demanda muita energia e muita concentração.

Demanda ainda muita paciência e quebra de paradigmas. Serão encontrados pontos a serem melhorados, e não será gostoso sentir isso.

Talvez por isso incomode tanto.

Porque ele desmonta a fantasia do brasileiro cordial, racional, politizado e consciente.

O que aparece ali é um retrato de país cansado, defensivo, performático, tentando desesperadamente estar do lado certo da história — mesmo sem saber direito qual é esse lado…

Um Brasil que aprende frases prontas e adere a ideias e grupos já criados, mas tropeça quando precisa fazer uma fala mais técnica; uma argumentação mais profunda.

E ainda assim, a gente assiste ao BBB. Não por curiosidade de ego apenas. Mas porque existe algo de íntimo nesse espelho na casa mais vigiada do Brasil.

A casa vigiada não mostra só quem está lá dentro. Ela revela quem está do lado de fora torcendo, odiando, e se projetando em alguém lá dentro.

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O BBB é menos sobre os participantes e mais sobre o público que precisa deles pra se sentir melhor, mais certo, mais consciente… por isso o BBB sempre é sucesso de audiência, sempre foi, e sempre será.

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PS.: “Brasil” também pode ser interpretado como um grupo social específico do qual você participa.

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Rio de Janeiro,

25 de Janeiro de 2026.

Deze scène heb je al honderden keren gezien in talloze films en series.

Iemand ligt gewond op de grond door een zwaard, een kogel of een speer. De hoofdpersoon gaat door de knieën, houdt het hoofd vast, drukt met de handen op de wond en zegt:

‘Alles komt goed. Alles komt goed. Je gaat het overleven. Je gaat het overleven.’

En vervolgens sterft het slachtoffer in de armen van de held.

WTF is dit voor levensles?

Bij Bureau Rotterdam en Bureau Utrecht en alle andere varianten waar Ewout op pad gaat met politieagenten gebeuren er ook dit soort scènes.

Iemand bloedt hevig door een schotwond of een aanrijding. De politie verleent eerste hulp tot de ambulance komt.

Ze zeggen niet: ‘Alles komt goed’. Ze zeggen: ‘De ambulance komt eraan’ en ‘Knijp eens in mijn hand’ en ‘We leggen je in de stabiele zijligging’ en ‘Kijk naar mij’.

Maar goed.

De film wil drama creëren. Het wil wanhoop laten zien. Verdriet overbrengen.

Maar toch. Het ergert me.

Omdat het geen goede metafoor is voor als het leven een tragische wending neemt. ‘Alles komt goed.’

Nee.

Niet alles komt goed.

Maar je vindt altijd wel een weg.
Wat je ook overkomt.
Waar je ook doorheen gaat.
Wat je ook voelt.

Je vindt een manier om met de nieuwe realiteit om te gaan. Het punt is meer dat je nu niet weet hoe dat gaat zijn.

Dat weet niemand.

Want wat raken we echt kwijt? En wat krijgen we ervoor terug?

Daarom raakt deze passage uit het korte verhaal ‘Pool Night’ van Amy Hempel (1951) me zo.

Ze schrijft dat ze weet dat huizen in de brand vliegen. En dat het verstandig is om van tevoren na te denken over wat je uit je huis zou redden als dat zou gebeuren.

Niet omdat, in the heat of the moment, alles even dierbaar lijkt. Maar omdat niets er echt meer toe doet. Zelfs niet je eigen leven.

Dat is wat voor mij een depressie is.

Niets lijkt er meer toe te doen. Zelfs niet je eigen leven.

Helaas weet ik ook hoe het voelt om alles kwijt te raken door een brand. En daarom kan ik je vertellen dat Amy de diep menselijke psyche heel goed begrijpt.

Je denkt dat al je spullen iets betekenen voor je, die in je huis staan. Van foto’s tot kastjes tot de tv tot je wekker. Maar op het moment dat alles in as is opgegaan, is dat een nieuwe realiteit waarin je je snel aanpast.

Het is jammer, maar niet zo heftig als je van tevoren dacht.

Het is weg.

Ze zegt ook in ‘Pool Night’:

I thought the present was the safer bet.
We can only die in the future, I thought, right now we are always alive.

Dit is zo goed geformuleerd.

Als je huis in de fik staat, gaan je spullen je niet meer redden. De toekomst gaat je niet eens redden. In een fractie van een seconde snap je de illusies van bezit en ego en toekomst.

Het enige wat je hebt is ‘nu’. En de enige beslissing die je kunt nemen is jezelf in veiligheid brengen. En als dat niet lukt, je laten redden. Op hoop van zegen.

Dat gaat best moeilijk als je bloedend op de grond ligt, metaforisch gesproken.

Maar ik heb toch liever dat je me vertelt dat je mijn wond dichtdrukt en een tourniquet om mijn been bindt en 112 hebt gebeld en dat ze zo komen. Dan dat je me vertelt dat in de toekomst alles goed komt.

Want om heel eerlijk te zijn: dat soort zinnen zijn geen troost. Ze zijn een manier om zelf niet te hoeven voelen hoe machteloos de situatie nu is.

Sentiment is een manier om weg te kijken van machteloosheid.

Ik zou zeggen: kijk de machteloosheid recht in de ogen en handel.

liefs,

tomson