The week has turned into a weekend.

Bush held a public speech yesterday, on one of the main squares of Bratislava. Such an artificial address. "Dobrí den!", "Slovak immigrants shaped America", "Slovakia fought for its freedom, today dozens of Iraqis are fighting to vote for their freedom", "Thanks for your help in heeding the call of Freedom", "On behalf of all Americans: Dakujem and God bless you all". The President of a major world power should not sound like a car salesman. It is apalling. The whole address, and everything surrounding it was just one big show.. fake and plastic. It might as well have been Mickey Mouse on that stage, speaking about freedom and how lovely Slovaks are. Uttering Slovak phrases for "Good day" and "Thank you". For one thing, if one has nothing heartfelt and authentic to say to a mass of people.. why say anything? Why get up on that stage, and turn a perfectly beautiful square into a high security fairground? Why did Putin not address the public too? Why only Bush? And for goodness sake, why in the manner of a pop star? How is one to look at that whole fairground/showbiz spectacle, and leave feeling secure, in the knowledge that these people hold a major influence on the affairs and wellfare of the world?

In some respects, perhaps I would have felt more secure about everything had it indeed been Mickey Mouse, and not mr. Bush (and his cronies), performing this spectacle of an address..

...
On to other matters.
Art has become my mistress. In my entry on February 2, 2005, I talked a bit about love and creativity, and insinuated at how they relate - and at how these phenomena support each other. When I call art my mistress, what I mean is that now.. in these times in my life where I am spouseless and alone.. the gap is somewhat filled with creative work through art. It is not the first time, and certainly not the last... as everytime I have been single I have found some consolation, or outlet, only through art.
I have begun writing again. To a larger extent than usual I mean. I have begun serious work on my first novel. Indeed. And the power and concentration for this is found in the metaphysical search for filling this abstract gap. A gap that I fill also through love affairs.

When I am in relationships, or am engaging in a love affair, part of my concentration and patience for creative work, such as writing or theatre practice, is lost. I conduct the metaphysical search through tending to my love affair. Time for art is lost, but time for love is gained.
I am sure I will have to find a way to balance this conflict. I can not entirely accept a future either without love or without art. Why should I not be able to have both? And succeed in both?

This is a matter for further discussion.

Reflectively,
..kH