Rijssenhout. The residents of the houses on Aalsmeerderdijk sit in their front yards with faces as if they are doing punishment duties. Then again, they look out on capital villas on the other side.
The ferry across is free; the pay machine is out of order.
Pumping and damming work on the Uiterweg. Water must have been on the road here for weeks this spring.
On a bench sits a man in a neon-colored suit and black boots. His hair is long, blond, and blow-dried. A traffic controller who has put on his work clothes?
People wear coats again. Summer coats, but the coats are out again, shifting the seasons.
Seagulls and crows scream from the rooftops. The sound reminds me of the raven in Japan.
A man in a t-shirt too tight around his waist, accentuating hefty love handles.
Beautiful artwork from chip design and a vice nerdy story about this Navajo weaving from Marilou Schultz.
I am rereading Raymond Carver‘s short stories. Nothing happens in these stories, nothing in terms of real-life events—suggestions of events only. A man and a woman are lying in bed. Nothing happens. Only the woman can not sleep. We follow her restlessness. A postman welcomes a new family in town. He observes them while they settle and leave town again.
There is no twist at the end of the stories—just a little wrinkle, at best.
Yesterday, I walked from our cottage at West aan Zee to Hoorn along the beach, an 8—or 9 km walk. There was a fierce wind in the back and some threatening rain.
I was impressed by the fractal-like figures in the sand, which formed 3D maps of unidentified countries (Which made me think about the barren landscapes of South America and Africa).
I had a great lunch at Kaap-Hoorn, roasted vegetables folded in Lebanese flatbread.
Continued to walk through the dunes and the woods to Formerum. Then, the rain washed me from the street, and I was picked up and brought home by car.
You can always find something unexpected. People dancing on the beach, this time.
What was a white beach in my youth – 45 years ago – now seems to become an illustration of a walking island.
I once lost one of the first digital watches here—a Trafalgar with red numerals that lit up only when you pressed a button. My father had gotten it from a colleague, who had gotten it as a business gift but thought the thing was too ugly—something like the one below. Very ugly indeed.
Yes, Dirty Harrry, with three r-s: https://www.dirtyharrry.com.
How often does it occur that information provided you on morning radio or television, or in the morning newspaper, causes you to alter your plans for the day, or to take some action you would not otherwise have taken, or provides insight into some problem you are required to solve?
Neil Postman
