The longer I live, the more I realise how life imitates art indeed. At least mine did. Everything of significance has been said or thought before, most of it a long time ago, too. So all that remains is personal perception and experience – this one lifetime's worth. Distorted memories, events, and tales unwittingly lived, curated and collated by the weary mind sieving the soul at the end of the day.
One of my pet peeves. Obviously many people had noticed or wondered before me.
Oscar Wilde for instance, according to Wikipedia. In a
January 1889 essay,
written while in the air there were
294 CO₂ ppm and the earth was trodden by about
1.6B people.
Lana Del Rey sung so, too..
In 2012, at 393 CO₂ ppm. Being one of well over 7B human beings.
But let me digress! Because the saying goes..
..and of course that, too, is on Wikipedia.
If we consider the ant and its hill as a most excellent metaphor for ourselves and our societies.. [clarification needed] Something higher, beyond us, would only make sense, wouldn't it? Simply by extending the line further, beyond us. An entirely other plane of existence – incomprehensible as it intrinsically would be, it sure would make sense of many things.
And would confirm there are indeed more things in Heaven and Earth
, as
famously noted by
Hamlet. Written by
none other than Shakespeare around the year 1600 – a mere 276 CO₂ ppm,
and not even 600M mortal souls meddling and biding their time on this, our
still beautiful planet.
🎶 Er was nog plaats genoeg, 🚣
en iedereen mocht mee! 🙃
But let's not digress. Compelled by experience in recent years, I've come to unironically believe there are more things. For which – or whom – words fall short. Even a broken Witness of Jehovah is right twice a day, aren't they.
..is about AC, as in AC/DC. I couldn't tell you the first thing about the physics, it's just a nice and somewhat apt word, and the second track on an album by Pan Sonic.
What all that has to do with this website is up for interpretation. I wouldn't care too much, or long, and didn't.
..then though. Is mainly meant to be a blog,
in the sense of.. ramblings uncalled for. Was there a time people read others'?
I do recall blog rings or something 🤔 but it must always (mostly) have been
personal mind brain dumps, only a few transcending obscurity.
This one was made with love, and vim, running on
Arch Linux btw.
And built by Lektor, of all the
static site generators. I dry-ran quite a
few of those, after having both discarded the overwhelming abundance of features
of WordPress Grav and abandoned the long stale pipe
dream of learning how to develop something of me own in
some form or other.
It's never too late to shed some ambition! Pretty sure some wise man said that or thought so, a long time ago, too.. Two millennia at the very least, in fact, because I can think of some venerable Ancient Greeks who would probably nod in agreement, saying “ναι, όντως”. (If they spoke Modern Greek, that is? 🤔🤓)
This lack of ambition, sloth we could call it, is a capital sin, and as such begs for a bible quote; but it's wway too late to go find one, at least for me where I am right now; and time, as we know, waits. for. no one. 😔 Not even for you! Nor for..
Ну что ж. Frits Van Egters is the protagonist of a 1947 🇳🇱 Dutch novel. Had I been born a 🇩🇪 German, my byname/moniker/alter ego might have been Gregor Samsa. Now if I were born a 🇧🇫 Burkinese.. 🤔
Like most of us, Frits has a number of traits and quirks; and some friends and family. And several mild obsessions, one of them being time, and the inevitable decay coming with it. The real me? tries to live by 🙌 the Golden Rule – with a passive spin on it. [clarification needed]
Feel free to reach out to
FRITS@VIRTA.BE
if you feel like it, or have to, or just feel like you have to. Or are in need
of, or need to get rid of some.. words! of any kind, all kinds! While supplies
last. Which, I'll have you know, 🧐 may not be
all that much longer.
Smirk smugly and/or insecurely? all you want; just wait and see, and let's talk again in 🙌 2030, if we're both still around by then. And then manage to find each other, and still are on speaking terms, on the same page, and able to talk at all. And then still feel like talking, too, about it. Or at all. 😏 Enough! with the pesky emoji, too.
— Frits,
one of ~8.1B
living human souls
on this June 17th 2024
at some
427 CO₂ ppm