Said goodbye to the girlfriend at Grand Central; headed out to Funen, in preparations for her birthday party on Saturday, where I’ll be joining her again. Bad days on account of hayfever; guess those new pills didn’t work, to reverberated to the old ones and felt better throughout. Including the late afternoon, where I met up with cousin Thor, who sponsored dinner at a Thai Restaurant. Severe heartburn the effect of which. Will join him tomorrow for a drink on the town, might be fun. Good to talk to him again. Quiet day at ‘work’ – having taken the day off because of the time put in at spare hours on the Ministry project the past two weeks. Made sure to vaste as much time as I’ll allow myself as the end of the week progresses. In no kind of time-waste did stop by the library, brought back a guide to Prague, which we’ll be visiting shortly, and a biography, if I may, of the Israel-Palestine conflict. ‘Holy land, unholy war’, by Anton La Guardia. Have read no reviews, but will dive in just the same. ~~~ Should briefly mention the Leonard Bernstein bio, which I ended a few days ago. Driven man, driven career, seems to be the keywords. Thought the ending was a bit short for the kind of ground work put in, had expected more of a bang to finish it. But a very serious piece despite, and a very sad but honest conclusion from someone who obviously had very strong feelings about the subject she chose to form a book about. She makes a very convincing case, I thought. The portrait ultimately becomes a man who gets what he wants – but like in the old gypsy curse loses himself in the process, and especially in his later years his excursions from his art, the conducting and composing, plays center stage, and his public and private antics become the sad focal point of the memory he leaves behind. A good work, reeks of integrity. ~~~ So it’s a bit of a tight spot she’s in, but thankfully she finds support in her brother, who’s the better for speaking and acting his mind. It’s something she’ll have to learn, also; this sneaking around corners and suffering when she’s in disagreence with someone, ‘because they might get run over tomorrow, and for the rest of my life I’ll feel guilty for having argued with them’, it’s just a perfect example of the cross she bears. That’s really a most fitting image, at least in her mother’s view; of her mother pinned to a cross, being dragged through the streets of Jerusalem, her daughter like one of the diciples tagging along, trying to hold up the weight of the mother on the cross. ‘The one who has come to surrender her life so that others might be free’, well bullshit to that, I say. Bull-fucking-shit. If that’s her illusion, good riddance, let’s all just leave her to it; I for one think the chances of her rethinking her approach towards life are very slim indeed. Find it difficult to care less, of course as I’m so close to one of her subjugtes. Then for all appearances, my part in this lessens in magnitude with every disappearing day, now that aforementioned diciple has begun to nourish doubts as to the teachings she’s received so far. Though not quite good enough, most certainly good and true. ~~~ Tomorrow Friday. Now that I’ve seen the horsing around to the door, there seems little excuse not to get serious about learning one or two new tricks in the book, computer-wise, and reading for a spell. Will be out for my run, also. Friday. Am hoping for a quiet day.