A German lesson with a very busy lady who got lessons with me as a birthday gift from her colleagues.

Nice, pleasant conversation about every day things.

Then to keep improving my Slovak I decide to read a Slovak book. Easily the shittiest book I have ever read. Empty. Silly. Childish. Ridiculous.

The whole book is a long, pathetic rant about wanting to find the perfect man. As if a woman doesn’t desire anything else in life. Maybe a Slovak woman really doesn’t care too much about anything else.

As is typical for Slovak women the author gives the reader a long list of everything she wants her boyfriend to be, without at any point explaining what she has to offer in return. The only thing mentioned is that she would make breakfast for that perfect guy.

Fuck that. I can make my own damn breakfast.

Never buy a book with a pink cover!!!


A lesson with a smart IT guy in Rotterdam with a great sense of humor.

Then I prepare for my next lessons and I listen to some World War II documentaries on YouTube. Thank God for those.


A three hour lesson with a young man who is slowly but surely becoming a prisoner of our soul squishing economic system and everything for profit culture.

I tried to be the balm on his severe depressive state, but with little success.

Then insane administrative shit I will not bore the reader with. Worthy of a book if I had the time and the motivation and the right sarcastic mood.

Then another three hour lesson with two intelligent women. We watch and discuss a docu on Srebrenica, among other things.

I come home at about 21.00.

Start struggling to focus. My head feels like those times you are dehydrated.

I finish reading the maddeningly bad book.

Another World War II docu.

Then this pointless blog post.

Written because… I don’t know. Maybe this almost meaningless, practically joyless day will have meant something if I write about it.

About 7,000 days like this to go.

An ok, uneventful day.

I did give myself a gift today. I ignored all the boring people who try to steal my time to entertain themselves. Am talking about people who do not even like me or respect me, but who are so bored they do try to kill some time by writing me.

Nein, nein, nein.

If I want to be at least a little bit proud of myself I have to fanatically weed out any person that aggravates my already enormous sense of alienation.

I work sort of hard. The price I pay for having a living, breathing body that needs certain things to not suffer too much. But that’s it. Unless for money I do not need to tolerate any kind of unpleasantness.