Liefde. Zeventig dagen op ooghoogte

vrijdag 10 april 1964 [de vijfenveertigste dag]

Om middernacht naar Mingus. R.d.R. uit R'dam laat me een interview lezen, in jazz, nov. dec. 1963: ‘When I write ugly, I want people to hate it, and I want them to hate themselves. What's so funny is they think a composer's supposed to please them, but in a way a composer is a chronicler like a critic. He's supposed to report on what he's seen and lived (...) If a cat comes up with some music from the moon, I know what it's going to sound like, but I just haven't tried to write any moon music (...) I decided to hold my funniness until I could laugh from my shoes,

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up and down (...) Now is the time, now that Jesus of Nazareth hasn't returned yet, and we've got people going to the moon, that we should realize He may return as we start blowing ourselves up (...) I've never felt there was no magic power over me.’

*

Leila: ‘Krijgt de kanker, lamme.’ Maja schrikt niet eens meer: ze is wel wijzer.

Roland doet boodschappen: ‘Ik koop wat het kind nodig heeft, wat de katten nodig hebben - meer niet, ik doe niet meer mee. I don't fight. I'm sick and tired of it. I've got enough of this.’