Steiner's Digest

Heute erhielt ich nach langer Funkstille einen Brief von meinem alten complice créatif Philip Bottomley Phelps. Seine erfrischende Direktheit hat mir einmal mehr den Tag versüßt. Deshalb gebe ich den Brief hier in ungekürzter Form wieder:

11 August 2026, Mischief Manor, Kent

Vlad!

How about lending me a few hundred quid? I could say you’ll get it back, but we both know that would be a lie. You could think of it as recharging your karma account. But we know that’s bullshit too. So there we are. I still need the money.

Apart from that there’s not much to report. Had a nice chat with the bailiff the other day. She’s into Keats. I found that rather sweet. Probably the only person in the world who still reads him, apart from students and AI bots.

So far, she has refrained from seizing my books. Claims they’re not worth anything. Don’t know whether to believe her. Apart from that she’s done a very thorough job. I’m literally sitting on the naked floor and starving. Which is a good thing. Sharpens the mind and all that.

Also I’ve realised that furniture distracts you from the really important things in life. If I ever come into money again I will leave it like that.

Not just the house, the whole area is completely empty right now. Two weeks ago, the farmers brought in the harvest – weeks ahead of the usual time because of the drought. Then they left for Thailand or some other place to cool down.

So, I’m the last of the Mohicans for now, and I love it. The only ’neighbours‘ I still have are a gang of naturalists employed on a rewilding project some thirty miles down south. Place used to be a farm but the owner gave up some time ago.

Apparently the rewilding people work for a company that sells ‚certificates‘ to big companies that produce lots of naughty carbon but want to appear environmentally minded or something. A bit like the indulgence trade in the late Middle Ages. I asked them if Mischief Manor would qualify for a rewilding project and how much they would give me for it. They said there was nothing left to rewild here. I was a teeny bit offended.

What else? Oh yes, I’m working on a new play, of course. Working title: „Wake me up before you shag me“. It’s about two trans people in ancient Rome. Great fun so far. Read a lot of the old Roman chaps in preparation. They make our time seem very prudish indeed.

Well, that’s about all I can think of right now. How are things at your end? Not that I’m really interested but if you want to get a few things off your chest I’m all ears. Anyway, don’t forget the money, I need it badly.

Namaste and all that,

Phil

Natürlich werde ich ihm das Geld schicken. Er hat es verdient.