1. So, i went to Kassel and returned. i did almost nothing, save reading and writing on the train, and in Kassel mostly going on hideous healthy walks and eating hideous healthy food with Juniper. She has a cat, or rather a neighbour’s cat, an insolent demanding beast calling itself Max, which has taken to sleeping in her flat for hours every day, and now expects her to feed it a special cat treat, some kind of luxury caviar with quail eggs i wager. i first met this usurper last November, when it appeared in the garden, staring menacingly at me, then prowling about the flat, eyeing me warily before disappearing once more. After i left, Juniper wrote:
Max visited, jumped into your bed rolling over it to substitute your smell with his own, that’s how men are.
Don’t let him drink the good gin.
2. i find cats amusing but fail to understand them. As far as i can gather Max has slowly made inroads into Juniper’s flat & affections over the last few months, and as the Russians elected Trump through hacking, so Max has taken to sniffing about Juniper’s flat, gobbling up cat treats before sleeping on his designated cat bed:
3. Juniper grew up on a farm outside Kassel. i have noted that neighbourhood cats, while generally regarding me with the wariness appropriate to my essentially canine nature, immediately approach & then follow Juniper on our hideous healthy walks. She doesn’t know why Max chooses to sleep in her flat, however i noted that three times i alarmed him by talking vehemently about my many enemies, or by laughing, and he was then so startled he darted out of the door and into the garden, sleeping a few few feet away as to say “don’t like that fat strange person you have inside”, which to me suggests an aversion to raised voices and loud emotion.
Juniper is ideal, then, being an essentially quiet person. Quietness is an attribute of soul. It betokens a direct engagement with our physical reality and is increasingly rare; i’ve also found it in my stepfather, a bus driver most of his life. i told Toddball that my stepfather is one of my role models; and Toddball was astounded, i think thinking i would think such a man of no import, for a thinking man; but thinking is not my challenge & difficulty. Thinking is, in a sense, trivial.
The quietness of Juniper, and my stepfather, do not necessarily imply lack of education; she speaks 3 languages well and reads “literary fiction” but is not at all an “intellectual”; having too strong instincts to drift into that useless cloudy domain. It is the academics, the IT geeks, the big city-folk, the fat rabbits and “theorists” who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the Kingdom of Earth, and will be justly despised by their children’s children (to paraphrase Kierkegaard and Yeats).
4. Quietness is rare in literature: writers & thinkers tend to be loud; but i could cite Chekhov, Keats, Sir Philip Sidney, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Bishop; overlapping some of Patrick Kurp’s affections & notes. It is to do with a simultaneous sensitivity and reticence, a reluctance or inability to coerce. i find milder forms of this in other writers (Camus, Wallace Stevens) but in truth it is rare to find a writer who does not seek to dominate or at least present the world in his terms. And today it is vanishingly rare.
5. My father rang while i was in Kassel. We had a good chat about how England is a right proper shithole; he despises most politicians and authorities as befits Elberry Senior, and apropos the gap between official media coverage & reality said “egh well the BBC is THE WORST!!! They are all liars! That blessed man, egh, that DRONALD TRUMF!!! He said BBC is a BEAUTY! Egh? Are you with me? Egh? They are all LIARS!!!” i opined that the more they attack Trump, the more you can be sure he is probably doing something right. i take some heart that his Syria attack seemed more symbolic than real, and he followed it up by destroying a bunch of the kind of bearded folk Assad is fighting, over in the ‘stan. But of course politics is just a weird human contrivance and will always be absurd.
Unexpectedly, my father asked me what the Bible is. Given he is a kitschy Catholic i was somewhat taken aback but tried my best. He then asked what the difference is between the Catholic and Protestant Bibles, when the New Testament was written, etc. i answered as best i could, off the top of my head, and later Googled and found that i was surprisingly accurate – product of a brutal grammar school/Viking education.
Given he is nearly blind i suggested he procure a copy of Johnny Cash reading the New Testament.
6. Among other matters, we discussed Brexit and the EU. The former will, i feel, go ahead in spite of all – the EU is ideologically much weaker than the Soviet Union, and most European states have a much stronger national identity than shitholes like Kazakhstan. For all the globalists have tried to erase a millenia of culture, it persists. For all the fat rabbits and ridiculous weak white people will sell their birthright for passport-free travel, there are enough colonials like my father or 2nd-generation mongrels such as my self, who wouldn’t blithely throw European culture away for the sake of a globalist state calling itself “the European Union”.
7. i continue to relish Trump. We will see if France can rekindle its nation. If one could see Trump as momentary focus of America as America and not as a globalist platform or SJW cesspit, i hope that Le Pen will triumph in France. i predicted a Trump victory, drawing about 90% on Tarl Warwick and 10% on my own occult scryings (which were unambiguously in Trump’s favour). With France i feel Le Pen is coming into focus, but we will see. If the French go for a globalist or socialist they will pay the price, and there will be a race war in good time – which will probably be the case in Germany, as i feel the Germans will keep voting for Merkel until they destroy their own nation.
However i strive for a certain quietness, to listen and wait.