Portugal the remeder 4
4. Day 3: One more day, one less day
Today I've spent most of the day obsessing over the fireplace. It makes you wonder how much time our ancestors actually spent building a fire to keep warm. I've used up almost a third of those firelighters that produce a decent flame, the air regulator, the smoke regulator, and the central heating thermostat. Several hours passed with the fire dying down to embers and occasionally reigniting. Quite a life lesson. It's an unusual May, damp and cold, and it's even more noticeable in this large house. Finally, in my characteristic stubbornness, I discovered that the thermostat needed a lower temperature and a log was smothering the fire.
There was nothing else to do on the long day ahead. I usually follow a compulsive routine: read the news online while I'm in the bathroom (some of it deserves to go down the drain like my excrement), have breakfast (along with my afternoon snack, it's one of the two best parts of the meal), and then, if nothing's planned, just let things slide, although I'm far too prone to planning. I don't really know how some people manage to get through the day doing nothing; for me, time is running out, and I want to make the most of it, but above all, I don't want anyone to waste it on me.
Furthermore, I took a closer look at the house and focused on the paintings hanging in almost every room. Mostly landscapes and still lifes. I have to admit I usually do this when I have nothing better to do. If I changed the paintings tomorrow, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. I'm not often very observant in this respect, although I can distinguish someone interesting from a complete idiot (and that goes for women too) in just a few minutes.
To maintain my usual discipline, I searched the video library for something fascinating, and I must admit I skipped four or five titles of little value to me. I came across Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino, and I won't deny my prejudice against this Republican-leaning actor. The first time I saw one of his films was many years ago: Dirty Harry. Although Eastwood had played gunmen during the golden age of the American Western. As an actor, I think that's all he knows how to do, and that's why I was surprised by The Bridges of Madison County.
The film perfectly suits that tough-guy style. I could agree with him on the point that human beings have little room for change. It's rare to find people who admit their mistakes or are willing to give their best. I've experienced this throughout my life, and I stand by it as scientific proof. Usually, either you give in or he does, but never both of you.
The problem with Eastwood and his philosophy of life is that, if we all acted the same way, this damn species would have become extinct centuries ago. (Something, on the other hand, that will inevitably happen given the way human existence is going today).
Even from a film of this kind, it is possible to extract something, even if it is in the opposite direction to what it suggests.
Anyway, Eastwood, despite not seeming to me to be a great or versatile actor, I like him, and in this film he at least gives a chance to those from other ethnic backgrounds. Migrants seeking a better life. The actor's message is clear: we want migrants, but not criminals. And who wouldn't?
Regarding Dirty Harry, I still have an advertisement for baby food in which a little boy appears with a spoon and his face covered in baby food.
The evening ended with a reading; by the way, I haven't mentioned that it's an interview with the French writer and biologist Jean Rostand, titled in Portuguese “A vida: Esa aventura” (Life: That Adventure). So far, it hasn't captivated me, as it focuses more on the scientific than the humanistic perspective (which is why I decided to read this in the first place). It's not that I don't find it interesting; it's perhaps a disappointment not to find answers more suited to my motivation. I'll keep reading; surprise is one of the most fascinating aspects of being human.
The “nocturnal” bird did not disappoint and accompanied a dream that I remember nothing about.
