For once, I wrote something in Dutch. I was sitting under slate skies on
the shore of Lake IJsselmeer and this came out. Since few of my readers can
read Dutch, I will present an (alas insufficient) translation. For those ghostly
readers more familiar with that language, they can scroll down.
This is the advice I can give to those who
are small and good-natured and want to pursue the best qualities in themself…
Greet no one on the streets. Take off your
hat for no one. Resolutely slap the crying child when circumstances dictate
to do so. Pick up the phone only if you have a desire for talking. Never answer
letters on time. Ignore the dog that casts sad looks from underneath the table.
Blow your nose in your hand and wipe it on a child’s comely golden locks. Play with
wildest temperament your electric guitar in the darkest nights. And pick a
bouquet of flowers for your loved-one from the tombstones of the graveyard.
Be endlessly generous in mocking the
foolish, the witless and insensitive. Pardon not a single breach, it isn’t free
you know. Wipe your arse with beggars’ letters. Do not refrain from larceny and
murder. Stamp on wooden floors, talk too loud with people standing close by.
Belch and stink, alike a dog. Decomb your hair, decay your teeth, grow your
fingernails yellow and monsterly. And serenade your loved-one with a crooked
trombone.
Stare the women at their tits, don't apologize
for nature. Never settle for second best. Don’t laugh apologetically for other
people’s faults. Mock all spend-thrifts, public lovers, cripples. No mercy, no
‘understanding’. Leave no sin unavenged, turn no cheeks. Live by the principle
‘he started it’. Decline the tepid glass, wipe from the table the stale old bread.
Don’t lift your feet when mother wants to vacuum at that place. Play someone
else if need be; fake yourself, be salonfähig,
sycophantic… completely false. And kiss your loved-one with garlic in your
mouth.
Put a dead bird in your neighbours milk
can. Freeze the people with a haunting grin. Spit a priest before his feet.
Urinate from your garret window when the moon is full and bright. See the world as a storm
of storms. Become high & low reviled, dastardly, heinous. Never discuss Religion,
Ethics, Love, Being or Knowing. Don’t explain yourself to people who understand
nothing. Calculate the number of the beast and deduct it from your taxes.
Poison the city’s water supply. And tell your loved-one you love her, despite
it all.
Place visitors in your second-best seat on
a Monday. Wear outrageous pantaloons of green seal pup fur on Tuesday. On
Wednesdays, wear a big red moustache and a golden beard. On Thursdays, run
500 miles. Visit close-by asteroids on Friday, and wonder about the men who live
there. Water your flower on a Saturday. And on Sunday, fool yourself in
thinking someone loves you.
These are some of the sacrifices you will have
to make to become, in the end, a valued and accepted human being.
Damn! 50 miles seemed manageable last night but now it's 500! More later. . .
ReplyDeleteI changed it to let it benefit in cadence, I'm afraid. And to boost the mythological aspect. True, 50 miles it was last night, and it still is 50 miles in the Dutch version, but somehow it sounded 'off' in English to my ears and I had my personal mythological hero Dave in mind... So now it's 500 miles, like the Indie 500.
ReplyDelete(And you're seven times my hero for reading it twice!)
I actually read the Dutch (sort of) and the Google translation of the Dutch. I have to say, this piece translates well into English. The words and sentences themselves do translate well, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that the idea translates well. In most things I read, I sense that the meaning has escaped me, or at best I have a vague idea what the author was really trying to say with the piece. If I like something, it's usually just the artful phrasing or interesting wordplay that has captured me, and I'm satisfied with that. This piece, though, I get. I really 'get' it! There's no need for me to show you that I get it, just know that I do.
ReplyDeleteYou rock!
That is a magnificent comment. Bullseye! I don't write in the expentancy to be gotten, but it still is the hightest goal anyone can aspire to. Many thanks!
ReplyDeleteWell said!
ReplyDeleteAnd it shames me, because there are some days I feel like I could do all those things, it reminds me that what we do, every day, is a choice, that every little act can have a dark shadow, that we choose to be who we are.
I try all the time to have empathy, put myself in the place of those other I meet in my everyday life, the slow person in the checkout line in front of me, the screaming child, the sad woman, and realise, we all have days like these. We all have days when we are a nuisance, where our indecision, our self expression, has consequence for others. And in that state, we beg for their patience.
Our day can be lifted by a friendly smile, a helping hand, crushed by a scowl or a harsh word.
I know which of the people you describe I would wish to have around me. I know which I'd rather be.
Tomorrow, I'll have your words in my head, helping my compass to point in the righ direction.
Hey Soubriquet! Be welcome! And many thanks for visiting this place and your good words. Sorry for the late response but I was out wandering in the proverbial woods (where the Pope is doing his bbusiness), trying to find some new inspiration. Any day now...
ReplyDeleteThis is great- like a new surrealist manifesto!
ReplyDeleteThanks Charlotte Sometimes 2004. Love your name: surrealist-worthy.
ReplyDeleteSeems as if "arse" uses up too many letters. A European proclivity perhaps -- as with the additional usage of the "u" by the British.
ReplyDelete