Journal Entries
Deadly Silence
Posted Aug 7, 2003
They were in their fifties and on a rare occasion they received an acquaintance of theirs.
Exactly eight o'clock the bell rang and the visitor was welcomed as one did in the upper middle class in Holland,when a doctor visits a lawyer and his wife. Children were sent outside or upstairs. It is 1955.
There didn't develop a real conversation more than the usual general civilities and after their first cup of coffee the lawyer suddenly sat up more straightly and slided to the edge of his chair by which he fínally could ask his passionate question which hatched his mind and soul fo so long but could not find thé definite answer. He looked the doctor straight in his eyes and said out of the blue; "Is it really possible to kill someone by maintaining silent?"
The visitor kept silent for a while because of total confusion. Because he wasn't prepared for such a morbid question at such an occasion. But hé was the doctor, hé had to know and there was no way out by ignoring such a dominant question.
And after a silence of five long seconds he replied ;"It is indeed possible to kill someone by maintaining silent for a long, long time", as if he was giving an anatomic lesson.
It appeared to be a social lesson.
From that moment on the lawyer didn't speak óne word to his wife. Not in the days and weeks after. Neither in the months that followed and not even in the handfull of yéars that life gave him.
Untill he himself became exhausted and concluded that this prescription hadn't done its work.The promise remained unfullfilled.
My father and mother had to go on, asif they were alive.
Till finally death came and took them both in his arms.
Amsterdam, Alfredo, september 2002
P.S. Link to H2G2 F550?thread=208332
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Latest reply: Aug 7, 2003
Deadly Silence
Posted Aug 7, 2003
They were in their fifties and on a rare occasion they received an acquaintance of theirs.
Exactly eight o'clock the bell rang and the visitor was welcomed as one did in the upper middle class in Holland,when a doctor visits a lawyer and his wife. Children were sent outside or upstairs. It is 1955.
There didn't develop a real conversation more than the usual general civilities and after their first cup of coffee the lawyer suddenly sat up more straightly and slided to the edge of his chair by which he fínally could ask his passionate question which hatched his mind and soul fo so long but could not find thé definite answer. He looked the doctor straight in his eyes and said out of the blue; "Is it really possible to kill someone by maintaining silent?"
The visitor kept silent for a while because of total confusion. Because he wasn't prepared for such a morbid question at such an occasion. But hé was the doctor, hé had to know and there was no way out by ignoring such a dominant question.
And after a silence of five long seconds he replied ;"It is indeed possible to kill someone by maintaining silent for a long, long time", as if he was giving an anatomic lesson.
It appeared to be a social lesson.
From that moment on the lawyer didn't speak óne word to his wife. Not in the days and weeks after. Neither in the months that followed and not even in the handfull of yéars that life gave him.
Untill he himself became exhausted and concluded that this prescription hadn't done its work.The promise remained unfullfilled.
My father and mother had to go on, asif they were alive.
Till finally death came and took them both in his arms.
Amsterdam, Alfredo, september 2002
P.S. Link to H2G2 F550?thread=208332
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Aug 7, 2003
Deadly Silence....
Posted Aug 7, 2003
At this sunday afternoon in september I wrote at the Guide Entry "Death" a journal story called; "deadly silence.....").
It makes me think of the song by the Plaint in the Fairy Queen of Henry Purcell; "Oh let me ever, ever weep, My eyes no more shall welcome sleep; I'll hide me from the sight of day, and sigh and sigh my soul away" etc.(Act 5).
No more hiding, no more sighing my soul away.
Never.
Ever.
I am alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Stories
Posted Aug 7, 2003
I remember that a few years ago I put an ad in the newpaper with a motto "I'm cracking down by the weight of all the stories I carry with me" and in that sense I'm glad I've found this site.
I can anticipate the H2G2-subjets that already exist and tell a relevant story/experience, or I can write everything down in my personal Entry.
I don't know.
I can also do both.
Writing my stories/experiences is a nice way of becoming empty, but most important, it is surviving death. Not that I have any idea when I'll ever die (born in 1951), but I do have memories, stories and experiences which I love to share, to pass on ,and so maybe inspire others in some way and the other way around.
Yes, that's the main root of my drive; inspiring each other is "surviving" one's own final end in life, cause that inspiration lives its own peculiar life all around the globe across languages, races, countries, cultures, social structures, religions, sexes and time. It may sleep a while in someones heart in Southern Africa and suddenly wakes up to infect a backpacker from Argentina who . . . . and on and on and on we go (from whom is that song?)
Inspiration is the seed of dynamic life in which all senses are open.
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Latest reply: Aug 7, 2003
writing in English
Posted Aug 7, 2003
At least I can typ when I'm writing in my journal. I can't really write letters, lyrics or a journal like this, because my hands have to follow my mind immediately and writing by hand goes too slow.
But now it's in English.
When I write, it's almost an autonomous proces: words in my mind dance with my feelings and this is a very concrete description.
And when it goes like that it generates it's own force, speed, ways and colours. As controlled as I am in daily life by myself, as free do I feel when I write.
But any hesitation slows that stream and it rapidly dries out and becomes more and more artificial.
Therefore by now, I'll write anything I write first in Dutch and translate it afterwards in English. That might be te least frustrating scenario, although it feels like making love first and then afterwards repeating it in mime.
When I write I feel in touch with my thoughts, emotions,subject ánd readers. That's what keeps burnig the fire in my writing.
Hopefully translating doesn't extinguish the fire, because English is a very sensitive and rich language which can relate to áll kinds of subcutaneous feelings and thoughts and provides therefore mány words for about the same kind of word. By example. I've just used the word "rich"(language), but there are many other variaties about this word: abundant,lavish, sumptuous, etc. and all have their own colour and writing is painting to me.
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Latest reply: Aug 7, 2003
Alfredo
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