THURSDAY, 1 MAY 2008
The love of a woman – from a man’s perspective
Picture a man walking in a desert. He’s been walking for days. He has run out of food and water, and he is dehydrated. He stumbles as he descends down a dune. Rolls to the bottom. Just lies there.
Then, at that moment, a rescue plane appears in the blue sky above him. Someone parachutes down with emergency supplies. Three hours later a jeep ambulance arrives.
A few days later he wakes up in a hospital. He is connected to tubes, and doctors and nurses are monitoring his condition. He is going to be okay, the doctor assures everyone in the waiting room.
This, from the moment the rescue plane appeared, to the assurance of the doctor, this is the love of a woman. It is a most fortunate turn of events in the life of any man.
FRIDAY, 2 MAY 2008
The thought culminated in a demand for a term that can be applied to the last two years of my life. A few months ago, I started calling it the Second Commercial Dictatorship, but meaning to be a bit more descriptive and more accurate, I said: A time of discovery, failure, embarrassment, faith, disillusionment – and the beginning of the end of financial incompetence.
THURSDAY, 8 MAY 2008
By Wednesday or Thursday or Friday repetition of the same boring actions and a lack of creative fulfilment become a problem. A good way to handle this is to go out for drinks, to play some tennis, or to watch a movie.
I, however, force myself back into my office chair, and the routine continues – whatever the routine is that particular week. My state of mind is therefore susceptible to any mistakes I make, to results that are not as good as I hoped they would be, even to good results that are “too little, too slow”.
The outcome is predictable: “It” does not work. I have to do “something else”. “It” is too slow. Perhaps I should look at “this” or “that” again.
If I had just sat down – on the green couch – and read a book, or watched a movie, I would have been on the road again after a few hours, or the next day. Well-rested. Ready for another day’s journey.
But the way I approach the problem is like someone who has been on the road since just after breakfast. Instead of finding a motel when it starts getting dark, after ten or so hours on the road, the man continues driving, without stop. Until he crashes into a truck or a telephone pole.