31 December 2001

It’s Monday, 31 December 2001 at 23:40. In the remaining twenty minutes I’m going to try to make a summary of what I did this year, to articulate a short opinion, and also to specify some things that for now is important for the year that will commence in twenty minutes. (It is of course appropriate that I exit this year in the same way that I have spent so many thousands of hours over the past twelve months – behind my Toshiba Satellite 2180 CDT.)

I continued building this year on what I started last year – by not talking anymore about what I was going to do, but to talk about what I’m currently doing. Or better yet, to not actually talk about it, but rather to show what I have done. I earned less money this year than what I thought would be the case. On the other hand, I wrote a lot more, and tackled more projects and finished more than I thought I would.

I worked hard this year – on my own projects. I sat or stood around until five o’clock, six o’clock in the morning in my “office” or in the living room or on the porch giving birth to more ideas. Sometimes I would buy breakfast at McDonald’s, and by the time most people were already in their offices, I would go to bed. I spent hours, days, and weeks working on things that ended up in brown envelopes, excluded from the projects for which they were intended. I learned a lot about myself and about things I want to do.

I also (once again) realised that I have a real interest in language studies. I spent a lot of time putting together material that I used to study Chinese, and I actually ended up with a few additional words and expressions in my head.

In short, I’m proud of myself. I had a good year – and I worked hard to make it a good year! (Funny that I almost feel like thanking someone.)

There’s still six minutes left. Ideas for 2002? Pay off my student loans, buy a house in South Africa, become a millionaire, master Chinese, fly around the world in my own Boeing with a dozen mistresses to keep me company, do a master’s degree in History, buy my parents a house, get married and have children, see the hair grow back on my head …

Time is up. I have to go pour myself a Muscadel and roll my first cigarette of the new year.

* * *

Okay, the new year is already fourteen minutes in progress. Let the work begin!

Brand Smit in his office behind a computer that cost him way too much

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30 December 1999

(Icarus journal, entry # 22)

I’m sitting in room 1102 in the New Cathay Hotel in Hong Kong. It is 30 December 1999.

[Note on 31/07/2022: Honestly, this piece of text is not good enough for publication. Looking back on that night, I probably could have predicted it then. I had no motivation. I had no inspiration. And I think physically and emotionally I was not in a good place. I had no confidence to produce a proper piece of text. However, the editor in me forced the writer in me: “It’s the end of the year, and of the decade! You simply have to write something!” This watered-down bowl of soup is the unfortunate result. I would rather see a gap in the end-of-the-year pieces than to let this weak effort see the light of day. Or … keep the first paragraph, and the last paragraph, and put this explanation in the middle.]

May the life ahead be beautiful; and if not always beautiful, then fertile; and if not always fertile, well … at least let there always be life!

1999 – Two days before the end of the world
1999 – Boat Hong Kong
1999 – View of Hong Kong
2000 – At least five men in a picture
2000 – Hong Kong, first morning of the new year

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Sunday, 31 December 1995

I feel compelled to say something about 1995. I’ll keep it simple and short. It was a year of extremes. Days like Tuesday, 14 March, searching the cold streets of Paris for an apartment where I was supposed to stay over for a few days (or weeks). Ecstasy, and then … uncounted, date-less days. Days filled with fading self-respect, vague dreams, delicate happiness … May all that is good await me in 1996.

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“I know you are sceptical, but […] join in with the ordinary current of life, and it will take you somewhere. Whither, you ask? Have no care on the subject, you will land and take root somewhere yet! Where? I cannot say, I only believe you have yet long to live.”

~ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

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