1. i was in McLingua the other day, talking to a Mooing Cow: this is one of the standard types among English teachers: young, American, Left-wing, female, slightly pudgy, gormless expression, tends to walk around sighing, God, I’m so tired!, and i saw she had a new class at a company i’m also at once a week. i told her how to get there and because i can get there quite easily (bus then u-bahn then walking, so i can avoid the almost permanently dysfunctional s-bahns) i was on the verge of exhorting her to take the number blah blah blah bus from Elberryville to such-and-such a u-bahn station, then the U-blah to blah, then realised, Wait a minute she doesn’t live in Elberryville, at best the final u-bahn station is relevant to her.

Later i reflected that because i like the commute (it only takes an hour from door to door, and i like buses) i wanted to recommend it to her, and so ignored its almost total irrelevance for her needs. Directions are useless unless you share a starting point as well as a goal.

2. This is a general pattern of response for human beings. A few months ago i met a woman who used to work at McLingua (she’s now a HR boss somewhere). We were at the Weisses Bräuhaus on the Tal and she first summoned the typically surly Bavarian waitress and in her poncy German asked for vegetarian dishes, then when told there were none to be had asked what she could get without pork, meriting another surly look since virtually everything on the menu has the word Schwein in it.

i made the mistake of saying i wouldn’t eat because i only had 6 Euros in my bank (i should have told her i wasn’t hungry). She exploded, in her cosmopolitan luvvie accent, – Oh my God, that’s terrible! That’s really shocking! Really, you should sue McLingua! – and then insisted on buying soup for me.

i should have just said, Actually, your stupid poncy voice has put me off eating, but being Mr Tact i shrugged and let her buy me soup that i didn’t particularly want. She then spent the next hour haranguing me for my life choices, while i tried to eat my soup and felt miserable and trapped by the life choice of letting her order food for me.

3. She’s not a bad person but a typical progressive – she speaks in a passionate la-di-da plummy accent, full of shallow conviction on every subject under the sun, for example she told me Donald Trump is literally an idiot, the man is totally stupid. He’s really a Russian spy and then, when i exploded with laughter (bits of soup spraying over the table) she added authoritatively, – I’ve done a lot of research and he’s totally controlled by Putin.

She exhorted me to go for office jobs, for example as a translator. i told her my German is nowhere near good enough to translate and she said, – Don’t tell them that! You have to fake it a bit! – then, when she saw my look of disdain, – God, Elberry! You’ve got to learn to be strategic.

That’s apparently the new word for lying. i told her i did 20 office jobs in England and would rather live an uncertain life doing a job i half-like than a 9 to 5 in something i hate, something i’m bad at. She of course wasn’t having it and kept pointing to my poverty as a sign of my failure in life, and as is the way of such folk (always women) she took this as an invitation to harangue me to, as it were, follow her directions from her spiritual starting point (Progressive egotism) to her goal (worldly status).

What a stupid cow.

4. Over time my general map has become increasingly occult, so where 20 years ago it would have been fairly comprehensible to the normies, it is now more like a personal grimoire. i’ve found that certain acts please my hamingja, while others weaken it:  lying always leaves me beset by mishap & awkwardness, though very occasional theatricality & deception seems fine – the difference here seems that the latter is not for personal gain or ego but is more of a spiritual manoeuvre, and typically exercised for purposes of high mirth or to create a magical space, to as it were temporarily exit normality. When i contemplated Prog Power Woman, i felt keenly that she was spiritually astray, with a weakened, modern hamingja, at odds with her world because she is an atomized, cosmopolitan egotist who exercises dominance over others under the guise of benevolence.

i decided never to see her again, as i don’t see any way to communicate with people like this. It was, however, interesting that she instinctively recognised the magical power in buying food for someone, and used it to control my presence, so i couldn’t simply get up and go but had to calmly finish my soup and then tell her how grateful i was for her charity if not for the bullshit coming out of her stupid progressive cow mouth.

i don’t even like soup.