This morning I was woken up by our lovely neighbours, who started blasting shitty Finnish rap at around 6:30 and talking as loud as people who’ve been drinking up to that time do. Now that I have my computer in the bedroom, I’ll have to dig up some Bat & Ryyd to play on high volume, loudspeakers against the wall, after the merry youngsters get to bed themselves.
A quick check revealed that the fever is still up to 37,6 C, which casts some doubts on today’s barbeque trip and even Tuesday’s diving session. I got myself a cup of coffee and sat down to enjoy the rising sun and cool summer air wafting in through the window, and to read about Discordianism, ‘pataphysics, situationism and psychogeography after far too long a pause spent concentrating on things that don’t really matter. This made me think of one small regret I have.
I read the Illuminatus!-trilogy in the last years of the 90’s and enjoyed it greatly. Fast forward a couple of years and open the scene with me sitting in New Bamboo Center, waiting for my take out curry chicken. I started paying attention to a guy in a table next to me, fingering a copy of Illuminatus! and talking about it to a girl who was obviously his date. The guy was really animated about the book and I sort of got the vibe of a third date “making an impression” thing going on.
A point to note – at the moment I was wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, oil slick coloured round shades and a long black coat with a smiley button. When I got my food, I got this impulse to walk to their table, lean over it, face the guy a bit too close and say “don’t read that book, man – it will invade your dreams”. I’m not widely known for curbing my impulses, so to my considerable surprise I walked past the table and out of the door before I realised what I had done.
That is something I still regret now and then. A strange regret to have, but I guess I consider it a kind of an early symptom for the years that followed it.