De Nederlandse schrijver, journalist en redacteur Peter Buwalda werd geboren in Blerick op 30 december 1971. Zie ook alle tags voor Peter Buwalda op dit blog.

Uit: De kleine voeten van Lowell George

“In mijn eentje bewoon ik een groot, smerig kasteel.
Daarom heb ik op advies van de Gemeente Reinigingsdienst een schoonmaakster in de arm genomen. Gisteren had Carmen haar eerste werkdag. Ze zou er om elf uur zijn. Op een laag vuilnis van anderhalve meter lag de kasteelheer kalm urinerend op haar te wachten.
Ze was laat. Onder de bacteriën ging een voorzichtig gejuich op.
Om halftwaalf ging de telefoon. Iemand meldde in plat-Roemeens met Engelse invloeden dat ze verdwaald was – wat ik niet zo gek vond. Geen idee wie lang geleden mijn straat van huisnummers heeft voorzien, maar het was geen genie. Of juist wel. Een wilde denker die precies hier, in deze eenvoudige wijk, het numerieke stelsel omver wilde werpen, wat hem uitstekend gelukt is, want niemand kan er iets vinden, ook TomTom niet.
‘I stand before nummero two-five-eight,’ zei Carmen. Feitelijk, zie boven, was dat geen informatie.
Ze kon bij de buren staan, maar ook in Zaanstad.
‘Stay standing,’ zei ik, waarna ik in concentrische cirkels Noord-Holland begon af te fietsen. Na twintig minuten ontwaarde ik op een stoep een vrouw met een emmer en een dweilmop.
‘Carmen?’
‘Sir Peter?’
‘Zeg maar lord.’
We fietsten slingerend door Amsterdam-Noord, Carmen achterop, wapperend met haar dweil, ik automobilisten dollend, samen fluitende het Turks Fruit-melodietje van opgebaarde Toots – tot we voor mijn kasteel stonden. Meteen zaten we in een heel andere film, namelijk The Exorcist. Carmens blik, hoe ze naar mijn slaapkamerraam staarde: alsof daarboven een hele grote bacterie op bed lag, hees ‘stof’ brullend, en ‘nooit meer poetsen’, dit alles in het Latijn der kerkvaderen. Ik zag die bacterie al de complete stofzuiger keihard in het kletsnatte gat tussen zijn beentjes rammen, dat hing nu wel in de lucht.”

Peter Buwalda (Blerick, 30 december 1971)

De Duitse dichter en schrijver Theodor Fontane werd geboren in Neuruppin op 30 december 1819. Zie ook alle tags voor Theodor Fontane op dit blog.

Uit:Wanderungen durch die Mark Brandenburg

“Der Ruppiner See, der fast die Form eines halben Mondes hat, scheidet sich seinen Ufern nach in zwei sehr verschiedene Hälften. Die nördliche Hälfte ist sandig und unfruchtbar und, die freundlich gelegenen Städte Alt- und Neu-Ruppin abgerechnet, ohne allen malerischen Reiz, die Südhälfte aber ist teils angebaut, teils bewaldet und seit alten Zeiten her von vier hübschen Dörfern eingefaßt. Das eine dieser Dörfer, Treskow, war bis vor kurzem ein altes Kämmereigut der Stadt Ruppin; die drei andern: Gnewikow, Karwe und Wustrau, sind Rittergüter. Das erstere tritt aus dem Schilf- und Waldufer am deutlichsten hervor und ist mit seinem Kirchturm und seinen Bauerhäusern eine besondere Zierde des Sees. Es gehörte seit Jahrhunderten der Familie von Woldeck; jetzt ist es in andere Hände übergegangen. Der letzte von Woldeck, der dies Erbe seiner Väter innehatte, war ein Lebemann und passionierter Tourist. Seine Exzentrizitäten hatten ihn in der Umgegend zu einer volkstümlichen Figur gemacht; er hieß kurzweg »der Seebaron«. Das Wort war gut gewählt. Er hatte mit den alten »Seekönigen« den Wanderzug und die Abenteuer gemein.
Karwe gehört den Knesebecks, Wustrau dagegen ist berühmt geworden als Wohnsitz des alten Zieten. Sein Sohn, der letzte Zieten aus der Linie Wustrau, starb hier 1854 in hohem Alter. Es gibt noch Zietens aus andern Linien, und überall, wo nachstehend vom »letzten Zieten« gesprochen wird, geschieht es in dem Sinne von: der letzte Zieten von Wustrau.
Wustrau, wie viele märkische Besitzungen, bestand bis zur Mitte des vorigen Jahrhunderts aus vier Rittergütern, wovon zwei dem General von Dossow, eins den Zietens und eins den Rohrs gehörte.
Wann die Zietens in den teilweisen Besitz von Wustrau gelangten, ist nicht mehr sicher festzustellen. Ebensowenig kennt man das Stammgut der Familie. In der Mark Brandenburg befinden sich neun Ortschaften, die den Namen Zieten, wenn auch in abweichender Schreibart, führen. Als die Hohenzollern ins Land kamen, lagen die meisten Besitzungen dieser Familie bereits in der Grafschaft Ruppin. Hans von Zieten auf Wildberg, das damals ein fester und reicher Burgflecken war, war Geschworener Rat beim letzten Grafen von Ruppin und begleitete diesen auf den Reichstag zu Worms.

 
Theodor Fontane (30 december 1819 - 20 september 1898)
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De Hongaarse schrijver en politicus Miklós Bánffy (graaf van Losoncz) werd geboren op 30 december 1873 in Kolozsvár, op dat moment gelegen in het koninkrijk Hongarije. Zie ook alle tags voor Miklós Bánffy op dit blog.

Uit: The Transylvanian Trilogy (Vertaald door Patrick Thursfield en Katalin Banffy-Jelen)

“It was a delicate and disagreeable situation.
 The difficulties had started two days before when a member of the People’s Party had proposed that the recently resigned government of General Fejervary should be impeached. The new government, much though it would have liked to do so, could not now avoid a debate on the proposal (as it had done the previous July when similar propositions had been put forward by the towns and counties at the time of the great debate on the Address), especially as the proposer was a member of Rakovsky’s intimate circle. Naturally the government suspected that the latter was behind this latest move and it was believed too that the whole manoeuvre had been plotted in Ferenc Kossuth’s camp of treachery and was intended to breed such confusion and doubt that the newly achieved harmony of the Coalition would be endangered. This was indeed a direct attack just where the new administration was most vulnerable. Everyone now professed to know that one of the conditions of the recent transfer of power had been that no harm should come to members of the previous government. The leaders of the Coalition had accepted this condition since their object was to restore good relations between the nation and the ruler and the government of General Fejervary had been appointed by the King. That this agreement had been made was not, until now, public knowledge and indeed had been expressly denied during the summer when Laszlo Voros, Minister of the Economy in Fejervary’s so-called ‘Bodyguard’ government, had first announced the existence of the Pactum, the settlement of differences between the royal nominees and the elected representatives. These denials had then been in somewhat vague terms, but now the matter had been brought out into the open. The new government’s problem was how openly to face the situation provoked by the People’s Party representative, offer a solution that would content the opposition, and at the same time keep their word to the King.”

 
Miklós Bánffy (30 december 1873 - 5 juni 1950)
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De Duitse schrijver en regisseur Peter Lund werd geboren op 30 december 1965 in Flensburg. Zie ook alle tags voor Peter Lund op dit blog.

Uit: Das Wunder von Neukölln

“Janine hat gedroht, sich umzubringen und liegt jetzt zum Ausnüchtern im Krankenhaus. Der Journalist Johannes erfährt von seiner Freundin Dorothea, daß Janines Kind behindert ist.
JOHANNES:
Ein Mongo! Au weia!
DOROTHEA:
Hör auf, ja?
JOHANNES:
Ich mein, so ohne Job und ihr arbeitsloser Freund läßt sie im Stich-...
und sie hat keine Freunde, die ihr helfen können, weil die selber genug Probleme haben.....
DOROTHEA:
Johannes-
JOHANNES:
- und ihre Mutter will nichts mit ihr zu tun haben und traut ihr das mit dem Kind sowieso nicht zu-
DOROTHEA:
Ich denk, du kennst das Mädchen nicht?
JOHANNES:
Aber so ist es doch bestimmt.
Dorothea:überlegt
Den besten Fall mal angenommen- Ja. Wahrscheinlich.
JOHANNES:
Ich werde ihr helfen.
DOROTHEA:
Reiß dich zusammen.
JOHANNES:
Jetzt wird nicht gleich wieder rational-
DOROTHEA:
Du kannst nicht jeden einzelnen Arbeitslosen persönlich retten.”

 
Peter Lund (Flensburg, 30 december 1965)

De Amerikaanse dichter, schrijver en criticus Joshua Clover werd geboren op 30 december 1962 in Berkeley, California. Zie ook alle tags voor Joshua Clover op dit blog.

What's American About American Poetry?

They basically grow it out of sand.
This is a big help because otherwise it was getting pretty enigmatic.
Welcome to the desert of the real,
I am an ephemeral and not too discontented citizen.
I do not think the revolution is finished.
So during these years, I lived in a country where I was little known,
With the thunder of the Gods that protect the Icelandic tundra from advertising,
Great red gods, great yellow gods, great green gods, planted at the edges of the speculative tracks along which the mind speeds from one feeling to another, from one idea to its consequence
Past the proud apartment houses, fat as a fat money bag. I wish that I might stay in this pleasant, conventional city,
A placid form, a modest form, but one with a claim to pleasure,
And then vanish in the fogs of hypnoLondon.
All are in their proper place in these optical whispering-galleries,
The swan-winged horses of the skies with summer's music in their manes,
The basic Los Angeles Dingbat,
A housewife in any neighborhood in any city in any part of Mexico on a Saturday night.
Every Sunday is too little Sunday,
A living grave, the true grave of the head.
In one shout desire rises and dies.
Composed while I was asleep on horseback
I drift, mainly I drift.

 
Joshua Clover (Berkeley, 30 december 1962)

De Amerikaanse schrijver, dichter en componist Paul Bowles werd geboren in New York op 30 december 1910. Zie ook alle tags voor Paul Bowles op dit blog.

Uit: Next to nothing: collected poems

At first there was mud, and the sound of breathing.
and no one was sure of where we were.
When we found out, it was much too late.
How nothing can happen save as it has to happen.
And then I was alone, and it did not matter.
Only because by that time nothing could matter.

The next year there were knifing matches in the stadium.
I think the people are ready for it, the mayor said.
Total involvement. A new concept in sports.
The loser does not leave the ring alive.

But no one can know where he is until lie knows where he has been.
I sat quietly, and the air changed then, and I looked up.
And the black branches trailing in the living water
stirred slowly with the change of air.
Piropos, you said. El sire les hace piropos.

Have you change for this banknote?
It is closed off for the time being.
Take me to the other end of the city
where they slice up the sharks on the sand.

The double tariff applies after sundown.
It is forbidden to pass beyond this railing.
Take me to the other end of the city
where nobody wants to go.

 
Paul Bowles (30 december 1910 – 18 november 1999)
Kersttijd in New York

De Britse schrijver en dichter Joseph Rudyard Kipling werd geboren op 30 december 1865 in Bombay, India. Zie ook alle tags voor Rudyard Kipling op dit blog.

Uit: The Jungle Book

“It was the jackal—Tabaqui, the Dish-licker—and the wolves of India despise Tabaqui because he runs about making mischief, and telling tales, and eating rags and pieces of leather from the village rubbish-heaps. But they are afraid of him too, because Tabaqui, more than anyone else in the jungle, is apt to go mad, and then he forgets that he was ever afraid of anyone, and runs through the forest biting everything in his way. Even the tiger runs and hides when little Tabaqui goes mad, for madness is the most disgraceful thing that can overtake a wild creature. We call it hydrophobia, but they call it dewanee—the madness—and run.
"Enter, then, and look," said Father Wolf, stiffly; "but there is no food here."
"For a wolf, no," said Tabaqui; "but for so mean a person as myself a dry bone is a good feast. Who are we, the Gidur-log (the jackal people), to pick and choose?" He scuttled to the back of the cave, where he found the bone of a buck with some meat on it, and sat cracking the end merrily.
"All thanks for this good meal," he said, licking his lips. "How beautiful are the noble children! How large are their eyes! And so young too! Indeed, indeed, I might have remembered that the children of kings are men from the beginning."
Now, Tabaqui knew as well as anyone else that there is nothing so unlucky as to compliment children to their faces; and it pleased him to see Mother and Father Wolf look uncomfortable.
Tabaqui sat still, rejoicing in the mischief that he had made, and then he said spitefully:
"Shere Khan, the Big One, has shifted his hunting-grounds. He will hunt among these hills for the next moon, so he has told me."
Shere Khan was the tiger who lived near the Waingunga River, twenty miles away.
"He has no right!" Father Wolf began angrily—"By the Law of the Jungle he has no right to change his quarters without due warning. He will frighten every head of game within ten miles, and I—I have to kill for two, these days."
"His mother did not call him Lungri (the Lame One) for nothing," said Mother Wolf, quietly. "He has been lame in one foot from his birth. That is why he has only killed cattle. Now the villagers of the Waingunga are angry with him, and he has come here to make our villagers angry. They will scour the jungle for him when he is far away, and we and our children must run when the grass is set alight. Indeed, we are very grateful to Shere Khan!"

 
Rudyard Kipling (30 december 1865 –18 januari 1936)
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De Canadese schrijver Douglas Coupland werd geboren op 30 december 1961 in een militaire kazerne in Rheinmünster-Söllingen in Duitsland. Zie ook alle tags voor Douglas Coupland op dit blog.

Uit:JPod

“"Oh God. I feel like a refugee from a Douglas Coupland novel.”
“That asshole.”
“Who does he think he is?”
“Come on, guys, focus. We’ve got a major problem on our hands.”
The six of us were silent, but for our footsteps. The main corridor’s muted plasma TVs blipped out the news and sports, while ­co-­workers in ­long-­sleeved blue and black ­T-­shirts ­oompah-­loompahed in and out of ­laminate-­access doors, elevated walkways, staircases and elevators, their missions inscrutable and squirrelly. It was a rare sunny day. Freakishly articulated sunbeams highlighted specks of mica in the hallway’s designer granite. They looked like randomized particle ­events.
Mark said, “I can’t even think about what just happened in there.”
John Doe said, “I’d like to do whatever it is people statistically do when confronted by a jolt of large and bad news.”
I suggested he ingest five milligrams of Valium and three shots of hard liquor or four glasses of domestic ­wine.
“Really?”
“Don’t ask me, John. Google it.”
“And so I shall.”
Cowboy had a jones for cough syrup, while Bree fished through one of her many pink vinyl Japanese handbags for lip gloss – phase one of her ­well-­established pattern of pursuing sexual conquest to silence her inner ­pain.“

Douglas Coupland (Rheinmünster-Söllingen, 30 december 1961)

Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 30e december ook mijn vorige blog van vandaag.