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Midden in de nacht uitgeput en stoknuchter thuiskomen van het uitgaan is het moment om Nescio er weer eens bij te pakken

#personal #nederblr #dutchblr #nederlandse literatuur #Nescio #Titaantjes

"It took another month before Japi surfaced. His old man had found him a job and he was supposed to start on March 1. He didn’t say that he thought it’d be miserable. He would wait and see what he could make of it. He’d be earning fifty guilders a month.

Then Japi started talking and talking and wouldn’t stop. It was creepy. There you were, he said, hurtling on this earth through the icy blackness of space, where night never ends, the sun had disappeared never to rise again. The earth raced on through the darkness, the icy wind howling behind it. All these heavenly bodies hurtling desolately through space. If one of them hurtles into you then you’re lost, lost with all the other fifteen hundred million unlucky people.

He’d worked nights; in Amsterdam he came home from the office at one or two in the morning, then sat up, brooded, scribbled, written whole novels and burned them. What could he do? What did they accomplish with all that? Hе let it get to him, dreamed up fiery speeches and ferocious articles while he sat in the office and worked on his boss’s business, worked hard, everyone was amazed at the quantities of work he could put away. The world was still turning, turning exactly the way it always had, and it would keep on turning without him. He let it get to him. Now he was more sensible. He washed his hands of it. There were enough salesmen and writers and talkers and people who let it get to them-more than enough. And they were always afraid of something and sad about something. Always scared to be late somewhere or get a scolding from someone, or they couldn’t make ends meet, or the toilet was stopped up, or they had an ulcer, or their Sunday suit was starting to wear thin, or the rent was due; they couldn’t do this because of that and couldn’t possibly do that because of this.

Every year is 365 days; ten years is 3,650 sunrises. Every day is 24 hours, and every hour more goes through the heads of all those constantly worrying people than you could set down in a thousand books. Thousands of worriers who saw that bridge are dead now. And still, it’s only been there a short time. The water there has been flowing for much, much longer. And there was a time when the water didn’t flow there. That time was even longer, much longer. The worriers have died by the hundreds and hundreds of millions. Who remembers them now? And how many more are going to die after them? They just worry away until God gathers them up. And you’d think God was doing them a favor when he suddenly wiped them away. But God knows better than you or me. All they want to do is fret, and struggle, and keep on struggling. And meanwhile the sun rises, the sun sets, the river there flows to the west and keeps flowing until that too will come to an end.

The math made him feel sick. How many rainy days had there been in all that time? How many nights had it gotten as cold as tonight, or colder? How many people had seen that water flowing by and seen the sun shining in it and seen allthe stars on the nights as cold as this? How many people who are dead now? And how many will still see the water flowing in the future? And two thousand years, that’s nothing, the earth has existed for thousands and thousands more years than that and will probably exist for thousands more. The water will probably flow for thousands of years more, without him seeing it.”

—Nescio, Amsterdam Stories

#nescio

Jongens waren we — maar aardige jongens. Al zeg ik 't zelf.

Titaantjes, Nescio

#fragmenten #nederlands #nescio

‘Ik ga naar Friesland.’ ‘Midden in den winter?’ Japi knikte. ‘Wat doen?’ Hij haalde z’n schouders op. ‘Doen? Niks doen. Jelui kerels zijn zoo akelig wijs: alles moet een reden en een doel hebben. Ik ga naar Friesland, niks doen, nergens om. Zonder reden. Omdat ik er zin in heb.’

De uitvreter, Nescio (1911)

#levensinspiratie #nescio #writings #this year I devour

Cupiō plūriēns scrībere ēdereque latīna nūntia sed quid scrībam mē fugit. Fortasse plūra trālātīcia loca ex Plīnī panēgyricō ad Trajānum, quem lēctitō.

#nescio