prince albert

group chat is silent. no one responds to your invitation. it’s okay. it’s been months since you walked aimlessly in the streets. didn’t you miss being a flaneur?

aren’t you entertained?

you bump into Spinoza. HELLO MR. SPINOZA! such a great philosopher. you take a selfie with him. suddenly, the anxiety of an imaginary scene where someone asks you “what’s the gist of spinoza?” clenches your stomach. you hope no one asks anything about him. fingers crossed.

let’s take a few puffs here.

two men are standing on the corner. you can’t hear what they are talking about. but somehow a cackle reaches your ears. isn’t it funny to recognize your kin, by the sound of a singular cackle? you smile at this thought. one needs to walk without a purpose to notice these thoughts. AIMLESS WALKING ROCKS!

until you realize you have to pee.

you need to find a toilet. is this a purpose? IS THIS AN AIM? are you still a flaneur?

calm down. strolling around in a city presents many struggles to the flaneur. non-existence of the goal must not imply the non-existence of intentionality. what do you have in your hands but this intention? who can say that it was not the spirit who filled your bladder by paving the way brick by brick which you happened to set foot on. wasn’t “freedom, the appreciation of necessity”? you raise your hands to the sky and shout a plea to the spirit: “please show me a public toilet!”

you see a small road construction near the canal. you suddenly realize that all construction sites have a portable toilet. you approach the fences. there really is a portable toilet. alas, fences are locked with a padlock. you see a bench nearby. you feel tired. you want to sit there and have a smoke. you want to sit on every bench in the city and have a smoke! amsterdam’s benches are amazing. how cool it is to be able to be outside without being a customer? everyone talks about walkable cities, not enough people talk about sitable cities though.

you still need to pee tho.

you decide to check google maps for public toilets. HAHA LOOK AT THIS google-map-checking-flaneur, my ass! SHUT UP! “junior knows rules, senior knows exceptions.” you are a senior. you know when to switch modes. you know how to balance the apollonian and the dionysian!

señor, you are just a guy who needs to pee.

maps show a toilet 100 meters away. thank goodness! who can say that it was not the spirit that manifested as your agency for deciding to check the map? NO ONE. no fucking one.

you reach the toilet. it smells a little more pleasant than a decaying corpse. the toilet looks like the one in trainspotting. it doesn’t matter. pee…

the warmth of emptying your bladder fills your body. isn’t it strange how removing warm liquid from your body makes you feel warmer?

you feel the buzz in your pocket. chat invites you to the beer temple. you need to get on a tram. no more flaneuring today.

are you entertained?

chat passes you a joint. you take a puff. the smoke itches your throat. ugh americans… yuck. you don’t understand how not mixing the grass with tobacco makes it easier to smoke.

you pass a coffee shop. “let me roll another one.” you watch him squeezing enough weed for three joints into a single fatboy. this is excessive. you are excessive.

you walk between the red lights. an asian in fishnets catches your eye. “we can share if you want buddy!” “you can just do stuff.” yeah, that implies you can just not do stuff.

“only by freeing ourselves from sad passions can we truly act,” said Spinoza.

is that a cock ring? no babe this is prince albert.