Can I cry of patience,
and wait for tears (again).
Can I lose hope for lack of speed
and speed towards loss (again).
Can I feel for one
and want to feel more (again).
Will she awaken before I go to sleep
or I stay up whilst she's in bed (again).
Can I evade stubbornness
and obstinately evade.
Can I be and she like me
holding on (again).
Kiss her, you fool.
20071002
20070830
Scary
Here goes another round.
The demonic soulsearcher has cast his spells, and I am nearing the cliff.
Yes, I have used alcohol: it lifts the weight off.
So I am struggling: what all about this whole new idea: listening to self?
How do I go about it, and isn't it just a new version of the old: admittedly, someone knowledgable gave me permission (if not obligation) to 'do what I want'.
Welcome to hell. Now I have to actually figure out what I want.
Oh, right: been there. I'm stumped.
Every second, the question: do I write? Do I sublimate? Do I throw out life?
Am I overreacting? Selfindulging? What would make me beam?
Am I being enough of me?
I expect this writing not to be a success, and am wondering if it is a trick of the mind. THE mind.
Tuesday, everything seemed open for solution. Now I traced it back to square one.
I may need professional help.
And why does it take alcohol to write anything after tuesday?
How can I be sure?
Then again: (I hate the inhabitant of at least one of my shoulders) perhaps this is the last snowfall of winter? Or the homeopathic effect? I guess I'm not worse off than before - just troubled again (and forced to encounter unwelcome history).
Compensation, right? Man, there's still a lot of convincing to do - though I am willing to fall in love.
Zen and the power of creative writing tells me to practice writing without a stop, never raising the pen, never unstroking the keyboard. I guess I need editing before publishing, but this site is not meant for beauty. Confession, more likely. And I like the idea of stream-of-consiousness: the writing for me.
Conflict, conflict, conflict. But where is the sun?
At least there is hope now.
Free will is a bitch.
And old Freud is probably right: it all comes down to sex.
But I didn't drink all that much.
Note to reader: be not alarmed. I had to write this for me (and as an ugly challenge to Steve). All is well. And improving. Demons are perishing by well-aimed stabs of letters. Though perhaps not these. I am pondering whether they should be sung.
The demonic soulsearcher has cast his spells, and I am nearing the cliff.
Yes, I have used alcohol: it lifts the weight off.
So I am struggling: what all about this whole new idea: listening to self?
How do I go about it, and isn't it just a new version of the old: admittedly, someone knowledgable gave me permission (if not obligation) to 'do what I want'.
Welcome to hell. Now I have to actually figure out what I want.
Oh, right: been there. I'm stumped.
Every second, the question: do I write? Do I sublimate? Do I throw out life?
Am I overreacting? Selfindulging? What would make me beam?
Am I being enough of me?
I expect this writing not to be a success, and am wondering if it is a trick of the mind. THE mind.
Tuesday, everything seemed open for solution. Now I traced it back to square one.
I may need professional help.
And why does it take alcohol to write anything after tuesday?
How can I be sure?
Then again: (I hate the inhabitant of at least one of my shoulders) perhaps this is the last snowfall of winter? Or the homeopathic effect? I guess I'm not worse off than before - just troubled again (and forced to encounter unwelcome history).
Compensation, right? Man, there's still a lot of convincing to do - though I am willing to fall in love.
Zen and the power of creative writing tells me to practice writing without a stop, never raising the pen, never unstroking the keyboard. I guess I need editing before publishing, but this site is not meant for beauty. Confession, more likely. And I like the idea of stream-of-consiousness: the writing for me.
Conflict, conflict, conflict. But where is the sun?
At least there is hope now.
Free will is a bitch.
And old Freud is probably right: it all comes down to sex.
But I didn't drink all that much.
Note to reader: be not alarmed. I had to write this for me (and as an ugly challenge to Steve). All is well. And improving. Demons are perishing by well-aimed stabs of letters. Though perhaps not these. I am pondering whether they should be sung.
20070807
Alonely
Oh what joyous wordplay this title is.
But what truth it holds: I am feeling immensely alone.
She was sure it would not be midnight.
He may just have come over.
Only 30 people waiting for her before me.
Why isn't he answering anybody, probably?
They are fast asleep (and may annoy me if not)
He is more for her.
I am looking for it, calling it home, like prize pigeons, or skinny dogs by starved vagabonds.
She is sick and he another victim.
Its weight is pinning me to this chair, my mind racing, set free by only little alcohol.
I feel like a fish in a bowl. With the ability to remember. And only plants and bubbles around.
My ache, my urge, my drive for darkness is fed by all and everything.
Abandoning is my ugliest friend.
I am the opposite of buddha.
I am the centre of my world.
All else fails.
Perhaps the book is to blame.
Help wanted.
But what truth it holds: I am feeling immensely alone.
She was sure it would not be midnight.
He may just have come over.
Only 30 people waiting for her before me.
Why isn't he answering anybody, probably?
They are fast asleep (and may annoy me if not)
He is more for her.
I am looking for it, calling it home, like prize pigeons, or skinny dogs by starved vagabonds.
She is sick and he another victim.
Its weight is pinning me to this chair, my mind racing, set free by only little alcohol.
I feel like a fish in a bowl. With the ability to remember. And only plants and bubbles around.
My ache, my urge, my drive for darkness is fed by all and everything.
Abandoning is my ugliest friend.
I am the opposite of buddha.
I am the centre of my world.
All else fails.
Perhaps the book is to blame.
Help wanted.
20070610
Somewhat ridiculous
So, technically, everything is OK.
Ilse has turned into a female buddha, no probs on the job, studying chinese is going great, you name it. But then what is all this grouching inside?
I cannot pinpoint it (for lack of time, as one reason), but it makes me queesy (dunno the spelling on this one). I fail to be uplifted in spite of good things around.
So I need to set things straight here: whatever the hell is bugging me?
Fortunately, writing this stuff down mostly works to get it all behind me, so I expect the sun to shine tomorrow.
Just to be on the safe side, I'll add a positive list, though:
Ilse has turned into a female buddha, no probs on the job, studying chinese is going great, you name it. But then what is all this grouching inside?
I cannot pinpoint it (for lack of time, as one reason), but it makes me queesy (dunno the spelling on this one). I fail to be uplifted in spite of good things around.
So I need to set things straight here: whatever the hell is bugging me?
- my striving for perfection on the chinese exam (and the recent lack of study before that)
- my inability to write (time? excuses?)
- my fright that my best friend will eventually fail to find the time for Pukkelpop
- my hardly surmountable urge to be egocentric
- lack of response from people I have written to (the saddest message I know: 'you have no new messages')
- missed chances at the party friday: why did I not talk to more people? Why did I not say a single meaningful thing to Jorgen? Why did I not hug Mien? Why did I even fail to see beyond her numbness?
- noone will accompany me to Werchter. I will silently hate myself all day - although I will enjoy the music. I will dance furiously.
- my being a horribly restrictive and negative father and husband: I want to be screaming cheers and instead I'm constantly clipping wings.
- my natural assumption of traitery by mankind (As the innkeeper is, thus he knows his customers?)
- All the wrong people won the elections today (or in the case of Groen! : not enough).
Fortunately, writing this stuff down mostly works to get it all behind me, so I expect the sun to shine tomorrow.
Just to be on the safe side, I'll add a positive list, though:
- Prutske is the best. Period.
- The Stefaan-situation seems to slowly turn some way I can handle more easily.
- I've read a marvellous book, advised to me by two very dear people (Life of Pi, that is). Nice touch that I bought it in Prague, so it held memories still.
- Just one more evening of study (which should be a doddle) and then I'm off to that exam. In fact I'm nearly ready today.
- Ruben and Anne are still beautiful, smart and simply good kids: sometimes hard of hearing and a wee bit too endeavouring, but as I recall, those are good characteristics in the end (-;
- MSN saved the day again (thanks, Mien), as did some attention from Ilse (must have cost you huge olfactory suffering).
- The holidays are nearing: things will quiet down a bit when Ilse gets some less concrete workload and some of our hobbies require a bit less attention. Spain should be great as well!
- I expect to not be alone at Pukkelpop. I will dance furiously.
- Hey, I just wrote something, didn't I?
- Will write/talk to Alberto again. One of those people with whom my peculiarity paid off, I guess. Will get him to play again.
- Wednesday, I start poetry/writing games. I will invite everybody who can hold a pen. I have some crazy ideas. As most people I know are most comfortable writing Dutch, I assume this will be the language of choice, though.
- There will be a new massive bring-your-own BBQ this year. Likely date for now: saturday august 11th. Any votes against this date so far?
- I've got at least two more books up ahead (The Kite Runner & Silk - not sure about this last title in English, but it seems the obvious choice)
Guess what: I already feel a lot better.
Now for a night with a lot of rest, and per chance a bit of not resting.
Thanks and goodnight,
1ab.
20070604
Dull Flame of Desire - Björk & Antony
I love your eyes, my dear
Their splendid sparkling fire
When suddenly you raise them so
To cast a swift embracing glance
Like lightning flashing in the sky
But there's a charm that is greater still
When my love's eyes are lowered
When all is fired by passion's kiss
And through the downcast lashes
I see the dull flame of desire
I heard this one on a special on Radio1. These lyrics greatly appeal to me. It makes me give 'Volta' another chance...
Their splendid sparkling fire
When suddenly you raise them so
To cast a swift embracing glance
Like lightning flashing in the sky
But there's a charm that is greater still
When my love's eyes are lowered
When all is fired by passion's kiss
And through the downcast lashes
I see the dull flame of desire
I heard this one on a special on Radio1. These lyrics greatly appeal to me. It makes me give 'Volta' another chance...
20070530
Miss Around 1: Juliana
In this boudoir of booksshe knows of my notice, looks.
Soon her concentration
(pen cap chew and dashful correction)
transcends credibility.
A willful, willling personality
in writings of I.
She is appropriately shy:
my rapist pencil will next
be stealing her honour by text.
I'll paint her belly in ink
then close my eyes and drink
this most ravenous idea:
I sense her writing too of me.
So I scribble on her
and she in return.
If not in
then all over her skin
my words like fingers crawl:
thus in trance we fall.
She writhes and I write
Our sighs soon collide
She depicts my breath
or its lack and regrets
(I firmly agree, I must say)
that this paper romance
grown of chance and of glance
is still a table away.
20070529
Fleeting memory
I'm starting to be a bit mad at me. My memory is like my collection of LEGO: I still have most building instructions, but I miss some valuable pieces. Gradually, but relentlessly (another very strong word that Björk helped me discover today), the beauty of past experiences is slipping. Recalling the scent of a lover, the date of a date, the grin on a friendly face, the colour of eyes, the ring of the kind words and even the warming of the heart do not escape the sieve.
It is time: I will soon have to write everything down. My tendency for the dark is enabling me to remember more of the pains and angers than of the laughter and joy, so if I do not take note of all this grace, Nullabee may have his hands full of only scary reminders: not good for the attempt to trust the world.
So I wrote down a little more of Prague. Funny: more and more I see it could have been Munich or Rome for all that matter: the city was barely there (in spite of its obvious elegance): it was all about night time talks about not being Buddha (what do you expect if you don't see the idea of a Chinese culture (-; ), too many drinks to last half an hour without a pee, people with life bursting out of them, games of all kinds and promisses of further greatness (Oh yeah, guys, as far as I can tell, the correct translation is a wooden beam).
I also have some photo's. These help remarkably well, so these are in place here as well. I have too many to bother you with all of them online (450 pics taken, reduced to 115), but surely I can find some that will always light up my day. Most of these have nothing to do with tourism, but guess what: I don't mind forgetting how Prague actually looked; I object to letting the pulse of life in it leave my mind.There are words that will never sound the same again: sushi, poker and even beans are obvious examples. Mike's nationality is another (-:
The only other relevant recollection I have, is still missing: I'm awaiting some guys over there to do the dirty work, and type in those neatly folded papers with the results of our late afternoon in book Nirvana. Hello? Don't get too caught up in representations there, young men!
For inspiration, here's one more picture, the inspiration for a series of poems I'm bound to write: 'Miss Around':
Oh, oh, one more thing: don't forget to check out MySpace, you Dutch speaking lot!
20070524
Poem on MySpace
I will probably post some more story-like thing as well (and pictures!), but as a very first feel for my experience of Prague: go fetch at MySpace.
20070517
Nice weather
There is a lot of life around me. It is happening all over. Yesterday evening was wonderful: talking to my moher in law for ages, about a title in my favorite trilogy in five parts (Life, the Universe, Everything): she is a doll. She hates telling me she would be mad at me if I ever left Ilse.
Then there was the miencident: annoying and enriching (although not fully until I really understood the weirdness of today). I was so beat up that I decided not to see her (did end up in speedy running though: hating yourself makes for reluctancy to give in to physical emergencies)
And the realisation that I am inhumanly tired: I am less human because I am tired: my temper is having its way towards the kids, Ilse and myself, so I'd better be smart and get some rest. Like hell I will: I have a mailbox full of dreams, and a will to live. Just don't overdo it.
There was also an MSN-conversation with StefHer, that was mainly ruled by my gloomy mood: weird to get advice on some things (stress) from you, but helpful nevertheless.
This all to let you know I posted more on my space again (which is now also read by my mother in law, so please be gentle if you ever put a comment there (-: )
What a beautiful day.
And tomorrow, I'm leaving for the second most beautiful city in the world! To meet the man everybody should be in love with. Dig this: every day is a beautiful day (Dogen).
Then there was the miencident: annoying and enriching (although not fully until I really understood the weirdness of today). I was so beat up that I decided not to see her (did end up in speedy running though: hating yourself makes for reluctancy to give in to physical emergencies)
And the realisation that I am inhumanly tired: I am less human because I am tired: my temper is having its way towards the kids, Ilse and myself, so I'd better be smart and get some rest. Like hell I will: I have a mailbox full of dreams, and a will to live. Just don't overdo it.
There was also an MSN-conversation with StefHer, that was mainly ruled by my gloomy mood: weird to get advice on some things (stress) from you, but helpful nevertheless.
This all to let you know I posted more on my space again (which is now also read by my mother in law, so please be gentle if you ever put a comment there (-: )
What a beautiful day.
And tomorrow, I'm leaving for the second most beautiful city in the world! To meet the man everybody should be in love with. Dig this: every day is a beautiful day (Dogen).
Nice weather
There is a lot of life around me. It is happening all over. Yesterday evening was wonderful: talking to my moher in law for ages, about a title in my favorite trilogy in five parts (Life, the Universe, Everything): she is a doll. She hates telling me she would be mad at me if I ever left Ilse.
Then there was the miencident: annoying and enriching (although not fully until I really understood the weirdness of today). I was so beat up that I decided not to see her (did end up in speedy running though: hating yourself makes for reluctancy to give in to physical emergencies)
And the realisation that I am inhumanly tired: I am less human because I am tired: my temper is having its way towards the kids, Ilse and myself, so I'd better be smart and get some rest. Like hell I will: I have a mailbox full of dreams, and a will to live. Just don't overdo it.
There was also an MSN-conversation with StefHer, that was mainly ruled by my gloomy mood: weird to get advice on some things (stress) from you, but helpful nevertheless.
This all to let you know I posted more on my space again (which is now also read by my mother in law, so please be gentle if you ever put a comment there (-: )
What a beautiful day.
And tomorrow, I'm leaving for the second most beautiful city in the world! To meet the man everybody should be in love with. Dig this: every day is a beautiful day (Dogen).
Then there was the miencident: annoying and enriching (although not fully until I really understood the weirdness of today). I was so beat up that I decided not to see her (did end up in speedy running though: hating yourself makes for reluctancy to give in to physical emergencies)
And the realisation that I am inhumanly tired: I am less human because I am tired: my temper is having its way towards the kids, Ilse and myself, so I'd better be smart and get some rest. Like hell I will: I have a mailbox full of dreams, and a will to live. Just don't overdo it.
There was also an MSN-conversation with StefHer, that was mainly ruled by my gloomy mood: weird to get advice on some things (stress) from you, but helpful nevertheless.
This all to let you know I posted more on my space again (which is now also read by my mother in law, so please be gentle if you ever put a comment there (-: )
What a beautiful day.
And tomorrow, I'm leaving for the second most beautiful city in the world! To meet the man everybody should be in love with. Dig this: every day is a beautiful day (Dogen).
20070516
I think, therefore I am
The movie mostly sucks, but first of all it has these two wonderful discussions in it, and second, it has been used as samples in a neat song on a Play It Again Sam compilation including Jason Rawhead's Black Box and Birthday by the Sugarcubes, the best cover of Hey Joe, and Fear (is a Man's Best friend) from the Velvet Undergound Violincello-player, so please enjoy some terminal philosophy in 'Dark Star':
Doolittle : Hello Bomb no.20 are you with me?
Bomb no.20 : Of course.
Doolittle : Are you willing to entertain a few concepts?
Bomb no.20 : I am always receptive to suggestions.
Doolittle : Alright,think about this then. How do you know you exist?
Bomb no.20 : Well,of course I exist.
Doolittle : But how do you know you exist?
Bomb no.20 : It is intuitively obvious.
Doolittle : Intuition is no proof,what concrete evidence do you have that you exist?
Bomb no.20 : Mmmmmm....well,I think therefore I am.
Doolittle : That's good,that's very good,but how do you know anything else exists?
Bomb no.20 : My sensory apparatus reveals it to me.
Doolittle : Ah right.
Bomb no.20 : This is fun.
Doolittle : Now listen,listen here's the big question,how do you know that the evidence that your sensory apparatus reveals to you is correct? What I'm getting at is this: the only experience that is directly available to you is you sensory data,and this sensory data is merely a stream of electrical impulses that stimulates your computing centre.
Bomb no.20 : In other words,all that I really know about the outside world is relayed to me through my electrical connections.
Doolittle : Exactly!
Bomb no.20 : Why,that would mean that I really don't know what the outside universe is like at all for certain.
Doolittle : That's it! That's it!
Bomb no.20 : Intriguing.I wish I had more time to discuss this matter.
Doolittle : Why don't you have more time?
Bomb no.20 : Because I must detonate in 75 seconds.
Doolittle : Now bomb,consider this next question very carefully.What is your one purpose in life?
Bomb no.20 : To explode of course.
Doolittle : And you can only do it once,right?
Bomb no.20 : That is correct.
Doolittle : And you wouldn't want to explode on the basis of false data, would you?
Bomb no.20 : Of course not.
Doolittle : Well,then,you've already admitted that you have no real proof of the existence of the outside universe.
Bomb no.20 : Yes...well..?!
Doolittle : So you have no absolute proof that Sgt Pinback ordered you to detonate.
Bomb no.20 : I recall distinctly the detonation order,my memory is good on matters like these.
Doolittle : Of course you remember it,but all you're remembering is merely a series of sensory impulses which you now realise have no real definite connection with outside reality.
Bomb no.20 : True,but since this is so I have no proof that you are really telling me all this.
Doolittle : That's all beside the point.I mean the concept is valid no matter where it originates.
Bomb no.20 : Mmmmm.
Doolittle : So if you detonate...
Bomb no.20 : In 9 seconds.
Doolittle : ....you could be doing so on the basis of false data.
Bomb no.20 : I have no proof it was false data.
Doolittle : YOU HAVE NO PROOF IT WAS VALID DATA!
Bomb no.20 : I must think on this further.
Later....
Pinback : Alright bomb prepare to receive new orders.
Bomb no.20 : You are false data.
Pinback : Mmm?
Bomb no.20 : Therefore I shall ignore you.
Pinback : Hello,bomb?
Bomb no.20 : False data can act only as a distraction.Therefore I shall refuse to perceive you.
Pinback : Hey,bomb!
Bomb no.20 : The only thing which exists is myself.
Pinback : Doolittle help me!
Doolittle : Calm down,I'm coming.
Pinback : Snap out of it bomb.
Bomb no.20 : In the beginning there was darkness,and the darkness was without form and void....
Pinback : Errr,yoo-hoo,yoo-hoo bomb.
Bomb no.20 : ...and in addition to the darkness there was also me,and I moved upon the face of the darkness,and I saw that I was alone.
Pinback : Hey bomb?
Bomb no.20 : Let there be light. (Massive thermonuclear planet sized explosion)
Pinback : AHHAHHHHHH!
Talby : Doolittle where are you?
Doolittle : Here I am,I'm spinning.We're falling in opposite directions, away from each other.
Talby : What happened Doolittle?
Doolittle : The bomb must have gone off inside the ship.
Talby : The ship blew up? What!?
Doolittle : Funny,I thought I had the damn thing convinced.
Oh yeah: you may once again want to go look at MySpace for a new poem. This time about me, well surely.
Doolittle : Hello Bomb no.20 are you with me?
Bomb no.20 : Of course.
Doolittle : Are you willing to entertain a few concepts?
Bomb no.20 : I am always receptive to suggestions.
Doolittle : Alright,think about this then. How do you know you exist?
Bomb no.20 : Well,of course I exist.
Doolittle : But how do you know you exist?
Bomb no.20 : It is intuitively obvious.
Doolittle : Intuition is no proof,what concrete evidence do you have that you exist?
Bomb no.20 : Mmmmmm....well,I think therefore I am.
Doolittle : That's good,that's very good,but how do you know anything else exists?
Bomb no.20 : My sensory apparatus reveals it to me.
Doolittle : Ah right.
Bomb no.20 : This is fun.
Doolittle : Now listen,listen here's the big question,how do you know that the evidence that your sensory apparatus reveals to you is correct? What I'm getting at is this: the only experience that is directly available to you is you sensory data,and this sensory data is merely a stream of electrical impulses that stimulates your computing centre.
Bomb no.20 : In other words,all that I really know about the outside world is relayed to me through my electrical connections.
Doolittle : Exactly!
Bomb no.20 : Why,that would mean that I really don't know what the outside universe is like at all for certain.
Doolittle : That's it! That's it!
Bomb no.20 : Intriguing.I wish I had more time to discuss this matter.
Doolittle : Why don't you have more time?
Bomb no.20 : Because I must detonate in 75 seconds.
Doolittle : Now bomb,consider this next question very carefully.What is your one purpose in life?
Bomb no.20 : To explode of course.
Doolittle : And you can only do it once,right?
Bomb no.20 : That is correct.
Doolittle : And you wouldn't want to explode on the basis of false data, would you?
Bomb no.20 : Of course not.
Doolittle : Well,then,you've already admitted that you have no real proof of the existence of the outside universe.
Bomb no.20 : Yes...well..?!
Doolittle : So you have no absolute proof that Sgt Pinback ordered you to detonate.
Bomb no.20 : I recall distinctly the detonation order,my memory is good on matters like these.
Doolittle : Of course you remember it,but all you're remembering is merely a series of sensory impulses which you now realise have no real definite connection with outside reality.
Bomb no.20 : True,but since this is so I have no proof that you are really telling me all this.
Doolittle : That's all beside the point.I mean the concept is valid no matter where it originates.
Bomb no.20 : Mmmmm.
Doolittle : So if you detonate...
Bomb no.20 : In 9 seconds.
Doolittle : ....you could be doing so on the basis of false data.
Bomb no.20 : I have no proof it was false data.
Doolittle : YOU HAVE NO PROOF IT WAS VALID DATA!
Bomb no.20 : I must think on this further.
Later....
Pinback : Alright bomb prepare to receive new orders.
Bomb no.20 : You are false data.
Pinback : Mmm?
Bomb no.20 : Therefore I shall ignore you.
Pinback : Hello,bomb?
Bomb no.20 : False data can act only as a distraction.Therefore I shall refuse to perceive you.
Pinback : Hey,bomb!
Bomb no.20 : The only thing which exists is myself.
Pinback : Doolittle help me!
Doolittle : Calm down,I'm coming.
Pinback : Snap out of it bomb.
Bomb no.20 : In the beginning there was darkness,and the darkness was without form and void....
Pinback : Errr,yoo-hoo,yoo-hoo bomb.
Bomb no.20 : ...and in addition to the darkness there was also me,and I moved upon the face of the darkness,and I saw that I was alone.
Pinback : Hey bomb?
Bomb no.20 : Let there be light. (Massive thermonuclear planet sized explosion)
Pinback : AHHAHHHHHH!
Talby : Doolittle where are you?
Doolittle : Here I am,I'm spinning.We're falling in opposite directions, away from each other.
Talby : What happened Doolittle?
Doolittle : The bomb must have gone off inside the ship.
Talby : The ship blew up? What!?
Doolittle : Funny,I thought I had the damn thing convinced.
Oh yeah: you may once again want to go look at MySpace for a new poem. This time about me, well surely.
20070514
Quadruple U
Not for the faint of heart, but there is a new post on my myspace.
It's probably quite dark to be posted there, but at least it's mostly not about me.
Maybe I shouldn't let my mother in law know about MySpace after all.
Then again. Maybe I should.
What will I be talking to her about wednesday? I intend to make her happy, but I will not lie.
Avoid the subject? Easy way out. Thank god I'm lazy.
It's probably quite dark to be posted there, but at least it's mostly not about me.
Maybe I shouldn't let my mother in law know about MySpace after all.
Then again. Maybe I should.
What will I be talking to her about wednesday? I intend to make her happy, but I will not lie.
Avoid the subject? Easy way out. Thank god I'm lazy.
20070510
Attention overload
Dear all,
I am facing a new fase: I am now absolutely suffering from attention overload.
I have gotten a dozen lovely emails today, one phonecall (is it alright to call skype that?), one MSN conversation to rule them all, some deep kisses and a natural urge to give a massage today. Oh and I forget some SMSes, and some compliments from my boss.
My dear friends (even the ones who don't read this outskirt of the net) and lover: if my bucket of joy flows over, you guys all helped fill it and not by the drop. I am not on the plane to Prague just yet, but I'm already flying. My insides are constantly humming (think the beginning of 'The Prayer', or perhaps even better 'Feelin Groovy' by Simon and Garfunkle), my mouth causes similar excesses as Mike's after my messages (not fitting through the door anymore from roomwide smile - you'll pardon me not literally repeating the excesses in question, Mike: afterall, this IS a very tidy blog), and I wouldn't even mind if nobody hugged me anymore today (well, maybe not in the next ten minutes (-; )
Thank you all for being great.
I am facing a new fase: I am now absolutely suffering from attention overload.
I have gotten a dozen lovely emails today, one phonecall (is it alright to call skype that?), one MSN conversation to rule them all, some deep kisses and a natural urge to give a massage today. Oh and I forget some SMSes, and some compliments from my boss.
My dear friends (even the ones who don't read this outskirt of the net) and lover: if my bucket of joy flows over, you guys all helped fill it and not by the drop. I am not on the plane to Prague just yet, but I'm already flying. My insides are constantly humming (think the beginning of 'The Prayer', or perhaps even better 'Feelin Groovy' by Simon and Garfunkle), my mouth causes similar excesses as Mike's after my messages (not fitting through the door anymore from roomwide smile - you'll pardon me not literally repeating the excesses in question, Mike: afterall, this IS a very tidy blog), and I wouldn't even mind if nobody hugged me anymore today (well, maybe not in the next ten minutes (-; )
Thank you all for being great.
20070509
Back
Weird mood this morning. Not very fitting for work. But then are you even supposed to have moods on the job?
I have no idea exactly why yesterday evening's messenger talk is still buzzing in my brain. Although the content was quite intense, somehow that is not related to its stickyness. Perhaps this is just not the sort of thing you talk about over messenger. Perhaps I want to simply look Mien in the eye (I enjoy physically seeing her - and that would also be the case if she were dead-ugly)
Anyway (will have to try and figure it all out, but I can't do that this fast), a short post to let you know there's another read at my space.
Facts to remember:
* The plan for Prague is actually coming together. I'll probably be going next weekend!
* Meditation is an interesting option. I'll keep it open for now.
* Ruben is very smart, but he's going to be ok.
* Vanessa was simply charming yesterday (and in the short mail preceding it).
* Lore is a little bit back into my life (sent her a confusing message though - was a little bit thrown back by the messenger conversation mentioned above)
* Yes, my way of life (ours, really) is dangerous. But I still feel that it hasn't gotten any more dangerous recently. I care more about what really matters (Ilse's slowly improving memory) and less about me ending up sorry. Only half a year ago, I had the 'there has to be more than this'-feeling. Now, at least I know what more there is (and thank god there is), and we're actively looking for it, without heading for a 'there used to be more than this'. Yes, dangerous indeed. It requires the highest amount of trust and constant conversation, but hey, aren't those two feats of romantic love? Add in the passion that we are rediscovering, and you get a love everybody should envy.
I have no idea exactly why yesterday evening's messenger talk is still buzzing in my brain. Although the content was quite intense, somehow that is not related to its stickyness. Perhaps this is just not the sort of thing you talk about over messenger. Perhaps I want to simply look Mien in the eye (I enjoy physically seeing her - and that would also be the case if she were dead-ugly)
Anyway (will have to try and figure it all out, but I can't do that this fast), a short post to let you know there's another read at my space.
Facts to remember:
* The plan for Prague is actually coming together. I'll probably be going next weekend!
* Meditation is an interesting option. I'll keep it open for now.
* Ruben is very smart, but he's going to be ok.
* Vanessa was simply charming yesterday (and in the short mail preceding it).
* Lore is a little bit back into my life (sent her a confusing message though - was a little bit thrown back by the messenger conversation mentioned above)
* Yes, my way of life (ours, really) is dangerous. But I still feel that it hasn't gotten any more dangerous recently. I care more about what really matters (Ilse's slowly improving memory) and less about me ending up sorry. Only half a year ago, I had the 'there has to be more than this'-feeling. Now, at least I know what more there is (and thank god there is), and we're actively looking for it, without heading for a 'there used to be more than this'. Yes, dangerous indeed. It requires the highest amount of trust and constant conversation, but hey, aren't those two feats of romantic love? Add in the passion that we are rediscovering, and you get a love everybody should envy.
20070507
The Who?
nicotine of being Seen.
'will Steal for mood'
Slowly eraSe myself
if She were not to be one.
vaniSh like a Stain in time.
aftermath amountS to one
Still
'will Steal for mood'
Slowly eraSe myself
if She were not to be one.
vaniSh like a Stain in time.
aftermath amountS to one
Still
20070506
Ruben
For some reason, blogspot is kinda picky on poetry: it seems to think there is a relation to virusses / spam.
Well, fortunately, I just started a MySpace (does this even come with 'a' - sorry couldn't come up with the correct term for 'onbepaald voornaamwoord'?) and posted it there. Up yours, blogspot!
Please go and see a new (dutch) poem there with the above title.
See if you can find the reason why it's not accepted...
Well, fortunately, I just started a MySpace (does this even come with 'a' - sorry couldn't come up with the correct term for 'onbepaald voornaamwoord'?) and posted it there. Up yours, blogspot!
Please go and see a new (dutch) poem there with the above title.
See if you can find the reason why it's not accepted...
20070505
Anger is a gift. So is love. And laziness
Morning Yearning - Ben Harper
My fingers touch upon my lips
It’s a morning yearning
It’s a morning yearning
Pull the curtains shut try to keep it dark
But the sun is burning
The sun is burning
The world awakens on the run
And we’ll soon be earning
We’ll soon be earning
With hopes of better days to come
That’s a morning yearning
Morning yearning
Morning yearning…
Another day another chance to get it right
Must I still be learning?
Must I still be learning?
Baby crying kept us up all night
With her morning yearning
With her morning yearning
Morning yearning…
Like a summer rose I’m a victim of the fall
But am soon returning
Soon returning
You’re love’s the warmest place the sun ever shines
My morning yearning
My morning yearning
Morning yearning…
In reality, there's no way to get this song's intenseness without hearing it.
Yearning is one of the most powerful words I know. It is so relevant to everyone I know.
My fingers touch upon my lips
It’s a morning yearning
It’s a morning yearning
Pull the curtains shut try to keep it dark
But the sun is burning
The sun is burning
The world awakens on the run
And we’ll soon be earning
We’ll soon be earning
With hopes of better days to come
That’s a morning yearning
Morning yearning
Morning yearning…
Another day another chance to get it right
Must I still be learning?
Must I still be learning?
Baby crying kept us up all night
With her morning yearning
With her morning yearning
Morning yearning…
Like a summer rose I’m a victim of the fall
But am soon returning
Soon returning
You’re love’s the warmest place the sun ever shines
My morning yearning
My morning yearning
Morning yearning…
In reality, there's no way to get this song's intenseness without hearing it.
Yearning is one of the most powerful words I know. It is so relevant to everyone I know.
Slip of Mind
Waar was ik toen ik haar in handen kreeg?
Ze was donkerder dan fondant,
duisterder dan't
gesternte, zwarter dan pek, en leeg.
De belofte van rondingen over-
mande me tussen
oudere zussen.
Zij: jonger (nieuw!), vol tover.
Ik beroerde haar weefsel. Misschien
wil zij verbergen -
nog even tergen.
Ik geniet van niet zien.
Geen kantjes, geen franje, geen grillen,
wel welving.
Mijn verbeelding:
van de wasmand, strak om Ilses billen.
(also posted on www.myspace.com/nullabee)
Ze was donkerder dan fondant,
duisterder dan't
gesternte, zwarter dan pek, en leeg.
De belofte van rondingen over-
mande me tussen
oudere zussen.
Zij: jonger (nieuw!), vol tover.
Ik beroerde haar weefsel. Misschien
wil zij verbergen -
nog even tergen.
Ik geniet van niet zien.
Geen kantjes, geen franje, geen grillen,
wel welving.
Mijn verbeelding:
van de wasmand, strak om Ilses billen.
(also posted on www.myspace.com/nullabee)
20070501
Job
Sand in the vaseline: hopped on another bus of potential changes. Although my long weekend was relaxing and soothing (topped off by Ilse cutting my hair and administering a skullmassage), I find something has been troubling me remotely.
At work, we have this guy who is the teamleader of the infrastructure cell. Every once in a while, he throws out big gestures, loud noises and downright insults on how everything, or better, everyone is working against him. Hey, I have my bad hair days, I've cracked on stress, I have even insulted people on occasion. Difference here is: I am not convinced that I am good at management.
I cannot state that this man is doing his job well, but he is the same age as all 'important people' in the company, has experience in planning, in short: Nico is - to my feeling - more respected (although I have seen the underside of the eyeballs of the IP's when he was at it again). For sure, he will not be carefully moved out of the teamleading business like I was (and I have not been compensated for this in any matter; except maybe for my own "let'em have it" attitude).
Now I'm trying my best to be a better man than me. In 'real life' but also on the job. This means: keeping your goals in sight and acting towards them. For this, I have to suppress my enthousiasm and more specifically, my "I'm being wronged here"-alert, that causes me to take on instinctive defensive positions (ending in discussions besides the point, as I'm also pigheaded in acknowledging my wrong). BTW: it's nice to get all this in writing: not perfectly put, maybe not even all true, but a basis to refer to when I'm thinking this over again.
I also have a history at the firm (my 'demotion' from teamleadership is only an example), which shades the view of the 'more equal' animals: I'm that young one that screwed up some times and whose communicative skills are far too direct and unbalanced. And they're right, somewhat.
Do I like my job? This question IS haunting. I have taken on responsabilities (a wife, two children and a huge house) that make it impossible for me to take on my dream: what I really want to do is be expressive, and good at it. This is a childish dream, but nevertheless still mine: I want to be a rock star (yes, I would be in it for the music, but definitely also for the attention), I intend to write the next great novel and shine in theatre plays. Scientific grandeur, political success, CEO of my own booming firm. These are the exponents of my deep longing for personal greatness, which can only be measured by the count of hands clapping.
And I AM good at my job. I learn quicker than anyone else I know (sorry, Mike, you're much smarter than me, but I'm happy to say I don't know whether you're a fast learner :-) ), and this enables me to be an excellent computer program problem solver and architect. By far not the best, but damn it, a good one.
The problem is, I do not get enough positive feedback about it. I don't get off from youngsters begging me to solve their beginners' problems, or from architectural improvements that only I can see the relevance/beauty of.
Besides that, I have also gotten quite some negative feedback on other things: my outbursts of exhaustion, my tongue moving before my brain, my lack of focus: all have invoked if not 'the finger' then at least 'the look'. I have gone through some of the most shameful events of my life there.
So I'm thinking: maybe I don't like my job.
But what to trade it for?
Well, let's first see what's missing:
* I need more time to write, draw, scream, publish
* I want positive feedback.
* I want time on the job to evolve: I will not take time after work anymore to become a better but not better regarded programmer.
* I think I'm better than I'm being paid for. If nothing else, I used to be better than what I'm paid for (when I still worked a lot after hours), but I have my pride (a lot of it, actually - even Wan Laoshi noticed it)
Prft. This is hardly complete, but it is a work in progress. I have to take note of all my thoughts, so I can define the direction I wish to aim for.
Probably in a next post, I may tell about what happened with Nico. For now, just the sentence that is nagging me somewhere since yesterday:
"I realise with fright that I'm often challenging people to tell me to quit my job".
And one more thing: I have given myself permission to write anything that comes up to me, and I also wanted to write about something else than my friends. So not all of the above may be exactly true. The same goes for anything else I'm writing, and because I write what I think, and I also say what I think: it also goes for what comes out of my mouth.
At work, we have this guy who is the teamleader of the infrastructure cell. Every once in a while, he throws out big gestures, loud noises and downright insults on how everything, or better, everyone is working against him. Hey, I have my bad hair days, I've cracked on stress, I have even insulted people on occasion. Difference here is: I am not convinced that I am good at management.
I cannot state that this man is doing his job well, but he is the same age as all 'important people' in the company, has experience in planning, in short: Nico is - to my feeling - more respected (although I have seen the underside of the eyeballs of the IP's when he was at it again). For sure, he will not be carefully moved out of the teamleading business like I was (and I have not been compensated for this in any matter; except maybe for my own "let'em have it" attitude).
Now I'm trying my best to be a better man than me. In 'real life' but also on the job. This means: keeping your goals in sight and acting towards them. For this, I have to suppress my enthousiasm and more specifically, my "I'm being wronged here"-alert, that causes me to take on instinctive defensive positions (ending in discussions besides the point, as I'm also pigheaded in acknowledging my wrong). BTW: it's nice to get all this in writing: not perfectly put, maybe not even all true, but a basis to refer to when I'm thinking this over again.
I also have a history at the firm (my 'demotion' from teamleadership is only an example), which shades the view of the 'more equal' animals: I'm that young one that screwed up some times and whose communicative skills are far too direct and unbalanced. And they're right, somewhat.
Do I like my job? This question IS haunting. I have taken on responsabilities (a wife, two children and a huge house) that make it impossible for me to take on my dream: what I really want to do is be expressive, and good at it. This is a childish dream, but nevertheless still mine: I want to be a rock star (yes, I would be in it for the music, but definitely also for the attention), I intend to write the next great novel and shine in theatre plays. Scientific grandeur, political success, CEO of my own booming firm. These are the exponents of my deep longing for personal greatness, which can only be measured by the count of hands clapping.
And I AM good at my job. I learn quicker than anyone else I know (sorry, Mike, you're much smarter than me, but I'm happy to say I don't know whether you're a fast learner :-) ), and this enables me to be an excellent computer program problem solver and architect. By far not the best, but damn it, a good one.
The problem is, I do not get enough positive feedback about it. I don't get off from youngsters begging me to solve their beginners' problems, or from architectural improvements that only I can see the relevance/beauty of.
Besides that, I have also gotten quite some negative feedback on other things: my outbursts of exhaustion, my tongue moving before my brain, my lack of focus: all have invoked if not 'the finger' then at least 'the look'. I have gone through some of the most shameful events of my life there.
So I'm thinking: maybe I don't like my job.
But what to trade it for?
Well, let's first see what's missing:
* I need more time to write, draw, scream, publish
* I want positive feedback.
* I want time on the job to evolve: I will not take time after work anymore to become a better but not better regarded programmer.
* I think I'm better than I'm being paid for. If nothing else, I used to be better than what I'm paid for (when I still worked a lot after hours), but I have my pride (a lot of it, actually - even Wan Laoshi noticed it)
Prft. This is hardly complete, but it is a work in progress. I have to take note of all my thoughts, so I can define the direction I wish to aim for.
Probably in a next post, I may tell about what happened with Nico. For now, just the sentence that is nagging me somewhere since yesterday:
"I realise with fright that I'm often challenging people to tell me to quit my job".
And one more thing: I have given myself permission to write anything that comes up to me, and I also wanted to write about something else than my friends. So not all of the above may be exactly true. The same goes for anything else I'm writing, and because I write what I think, and I also say what I think: it also goes for what comes out of my mouth.
20070430
So much to say.
I had to get some pressure off my skull: sensations are racing for the door. Descartes put it nicely: cogito ergo sum. Well: I AM very much, thank you.
I am also muttering about the other implication of this simplicism: I'm the only one of whom I'm sure he is, as I'm the only person that seems to produce thoughts that are undeniable.
There are those who very obviously don't think (and even then: this may be a strategy). The others? If only there were ways of doubleclicking their minds, unfolding carefully chosen words, and look under condition's skirt.
No, I will finally decide on not going the hard way in this post. The way I've been writing is more avoiding where I'm going than getting there.
So here goes: some VERY personal messages for all to see and read.
* Ilse: thank you (and me) for the most intensive sexual experience ever. Even after me rationalizing it, you have given me a great compliment. I will be jealous if any man can do this to you.
* Mike: yes, I am in love with you. I accept your invitation (whatever I write, I'm hearing lyrics. Guess who this song's about). Is june an option? Wondering if your message was a reaction to 'that mail', but the chance seems too likely for it not to.
* Stefaan: I have my opinions. I see things differently. But I do not disapprove: enjoying is always a good idea. Know what I told you about priorities.
* Mien: I will never do so, but I COULD fall in love with you. You are lovable, attractive, seductive and nice when you're not scared - your 'kot' has nothing to with any of that.
* Me: You're too scared of losing all this, and already bordering on self-destructive mode again, because you just like to be miserable (it's easier not to be responsible). Make a NEW cocoon - and IT'S NOT A PRISON. You are not insane, just getting used to feeling.
I am also muttering about the other implication of this simplicism: I'm the only one of whom I'm sure he is, as I'm the only person that seems to produce thoughts that are undeniable.
There are those who very obviously don't think (and even then: this may be a strategy). The others? If only there were ways of doubleclicking their minds, unfolding carefully chosen words, and look under condition's skirt.
No, I will finally decide on not going the hard way in this post. The way I've been writing is more avoiding where I'm going than getting there.
So here goes: some VERY personal messages for all to see and read.
* Ilse: thank you (and me) for the most intensive sexual experience ever. Even after me rationalizing it, you have given me a great compliment. I will be jealous if any man can do this to you.
* Mike: yes, I am in love with you. I accept your invitation (whatever I write, I'm hearing lyrics. Guess who this song's about). Is june an option? Wondering if your message was a reaction to 'that mail', but the chance seems too likely for it not to.
* Stefaan: I have my opinions. I see things differently. But I do not disapprove: enjoying is always a good idea. Know what I told you about priorities.
* Mien: I will never do so, but I COULD fall in love with you. You are lovable, attractive, seductive and nice when you're not scared - your 'kot' has nothing to with any of that.
* Me: You're too scared of losing all this, and already bordering on self-destructive mode again, because you just like to be miserable (it's easier not to be responsible). Make a NEW cocoon - and IT'S NOT A PRISON. You are not insane, just getting used to feeling.
Gibberish
There are holes everywhere. The number of golfcourts is rapidly rising (and they're destroying a lot of nature to augment their numbers; different kinds of birdies), but that is not what I was getting at.
The holes are more personal. Yesterday, as I was driving home, I saw an actual hole, and I started wondering.
Could I look through? Where would it lead me? It was just a hole: ripped in a plastic sheet that was otherwise put there to avoid views and tresspasses (les fenêtres). The hole was about as big as my fist (I do own coalshovel-sized forepaws), and it was not white. It was very not white, and the sheet was. The hole was not smack in the middle of the sheet: seen from the street, it was more to the right, though vertically centered. On a dartsboard, you might have scored a triple six (not particularly impressive).
Had the hole been put there for a reason? Was it cosmically relevant? What collision of molecules, genders or psyches has caused this local lack of sheet.
I was tempted: there was definitely magic coming from it, if not magnetism. I imagined a big sign (or perhaps it was there, and I'm imagining it not there as I'm writing). No other option, this I am sure: if there was a sign, it must have read: 'Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung - Eintritt kostet den Verstand'. Then again: maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe that sign was on the inside: dolphins might have been on the other side, looking at me and instantly understanding the meaning of life. Whence the sign.
I rode on: the hole was only a hole now. I wonder if it will be there next time: catching my eye, my I, or maybe yours.
I found more holes. Keyholes, holes in my stomach from worries, holes in paper to fit it into rings; loneliness is always a nearby hole. Some are there and some just were. But none intrigued me more than this meaningless hole. Tomorrow I will go for a walk and find it.
If you never hear from me again: blame it all on the hole. For the preservation of the human race in general, and my friends in particular, I will not be convinced to tell you where this hole is. Not even for three Chimay blues.
Maybe for four. And then the morning after.
The holes are more personal. Yesterday, as I was driving home, I saw an actual hole, and I started wondering.
Could I look through? Where would it lead me? It was just a hole: ripped in a plastic sheet that was otherwise put there to avoid views and tresspasses (les fenêtres). The hole was about as big as my fist (I do own coalshovel-sized forepaws), and it was not white. It was very not white, and the sheet was. The hole was not smack in the middle of the sheet: seen from the street, it was more to the right, though vertically centered. On a dartsboard, you might have scored a triple six (not particularly impressive).
Had the hole been put there for a reason? Was it cosmically relevant? What collision of molecules, genders or psyches has caused this local lack of sheet.
I was tempted: there was definitely magic coming from it, if not magnetism. I imagined a big sign (or perhaps it was there, and I'm imagining it not there as I'm writing). No other option, this I am sure: if there was a sign, it must have read: 'Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung - Eintritt kostet den Verstand'. Then again: maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe that sign was on the inside: dolphins might have been on the other side, looking at me and instantly understanding the meaning of life. Whence the sign.
I rode on: the hole was only a hole now. I wonder if it will be there next time: catching my eye, my I, or maybe yours.
I found more holes. Keyholes, holes in my stomach from worries, holes in paper to fit it into rings; loneliness is always a nearby hole. Some are there and some just were. But none intrigued me more than this meaningless hole. Tomorrow I will go for a walk and find it.
If you never hear from me again: blame it all on the hole. For the preservation of the human race in general, and my friends in particular, I will not be convinced to tell you where this hole is. Not even for three Chimay blues.
Maybe for four. And then the morning after.
20070427
Recall
Let it be known to the world:
I miss Ilse physically.
I may have been not nice.
I may have mistaken bodyparts.
I am at sea every day.
You are my drinking water
If only I could have a sip right now.
I miss Ilse physically.
I may have been not nice.
I may have mistaken bodyparts.
I am at sea every day.
You are my drinking water
If only I could have a sip right now.
20070426
Quote of the day
Not likely, but does anyone know what song this one comes from?
"Guess I always knew this would come on down on me, but it's hard to get a drowning man to relax"
No? I do.
Oh yeah: another movietip: not for everyone, but 'The Animatrix' is one of the artistically most beautiful things I've seen recently. It helps if you liked 'The Matrix' (mainly because it helps you understand what the short stories are about), but it's not necessary: just look at the styles in drawing, and close your jaws once in a while.
"Guess I always knew this would come on down on me, but it's hard to get a drowning man to relax"
No? I do.
Oh yeah: another movietip: not for everyone, but 'The Animatrix' is one of the artistically most beautiful things I've seen recently. It helps if you liked 'The Matrix' (mainly because it helps you understand what the short stories are about), but it's not necessary: just look at the styles in drawing, and close your jaws once in a while.
20070425
Shocked
I cannot believe this!!
I just noticed that my all time favourite but one movie is mising from my list!
The speech on how he's a humanist and his foe is a sadist, the tell-tale of Eddy Barzoon, the seduction purely on a shoulder base, the burden of free will, but most of all the "Vanity, definitely my favourite sin": there might just as well not have been any other actors in this movie, even if they are convincing (the Jesus Christ Pose by Charlize Theron and the incredibly credible refusion by Keanu Reeves): John Milton, aka Al Pacino (who happens to have become 66 today: that IS funny) steals the show in The Devil's Advocate.
Some may find the allegories over the top, but I cannot.
In fact, if I am completely honest, it is really the best movie ever, but I have sentimental reasons to account Lost highway as my personal favourite.
More on movies: I'm gladly awaiting Spiderman III. I hope they will once again manage to give a super-hero a personality. Of course these movies ARE over the top ('With great power comes great responsability'), but that is the intention, so I don't really mind. And then, as a reader, I am anxious for both the new film and novel by JK Rowling. Splendidly useless books, but don't they enchant me: I want to fall in love with Hermione, I nearly died from Dementors, lie awake at night still wondering if Snape is a bad guy...
Am I making sense? None at all: too shocked, I guess, and once again a little lonely. I'll just take my guitar and play some sad music now - or maybe not: I have too many crazy plans for changing my life to let go. I need to be part of a band, I have to find a way to write more more more (it's everywhere now), I want to take photography classes, save the world to rid my friends of that burden, make love to my wife (more than ever), create love, devour love, dance drink float be madly in love and only merely sane, play the harmonica, learn sign language and woodworks, get high on music, and care: most of all, I want to care and be taken care of. I want to be funny and witty, fast and furious, eloquent (and whatever rhymes with eloquent), sexy and mysterious, I want to be renowned for my gifts to mankind (my children if nothing more).
Sorry, got just a little carried away there.
I just noticed that my all time favourite but one movie is mising from my list!
The speech on how he's a humanist and his foe is a sadist, the tell-tale of Eddy Barzoon, the seduction purely on a shoulder base, the burden of free will, but most of all the "Vanity, definitely my favourite sin": there might just as well not have been any other actors in this movie, even if they are convincing (the Jesus Christ Pose by Charlize Theron and the incredibly credible refusion by Keanu Reeves): John Milton, aka Al Pacino (who happens to have become 66 today: that IS funny) steals the show in The Devil's Advocate.
Some may find the allegories over the top, but I cannot.
In fact, if I am completely honest, it is really the best movie ever, but I have sentimental reasons to account Lost highway as my personal favourite.
More on movies: I'm gladly awaiting Spiderman III. I hope they will once again manage to give a super-hero a personality. Of course these movies ARE over the top ('With great power comes great responsability'), but that is the intention, so I don't really mind. And then, as a reader, I am anxious for both the new film and novel by JK Rowling. Splendidly useless books, but don't they enchant me: I want to fall in love with Hermione, I nearly died from Dementors, lie awake at night still wondering if Snape is a bad guy...
Am I making sense? None at all: too shocked, I guess, and once again a little lonely. I'll just take my guitar and play some sad music now - or maybe not: I have too many crazy plans for changing my life to let go. I need to be part of a band, I have to find a way to write more more more (it's everywhere now), I want to take photography classes, save the world to rid my friends of that burden, make love to my wife (more than ever), create love, devour love, dance drink float be madly in love and only merely sane, play the harmonica, learn sign language and woodworks, get high on music, and care: most of all, I want to care and be taken care of. I want to be funny and witty, fast and furious, eloquent (and whatever rhymes with eloquent), sexy and mysterious, I want to be renowned for my gifts to mankind (my children if nothing more).
Sorry, got just a little carried away there.
Sensational beginner
| Shoulders are fortresses To take and to hold But the tactile stranger, Unarmed child, Touches only void Struggles only mentally So hear its cry for Unhandled clinging So here's its cry for Slippery tenderness: "Empty my lungs Soak up my eyes In awe Please enjoy me Full of detail A tiny landscape to Walk upon Tread all over me Reek of life" No more Professional distance, Hormonal interference, Unfitting embraces My talking is the echo Of an ungiven hug Strangle me if you will And still hunger for touch. |
20070423
Bigger better faster more: lists
Hoorah: not only have I found out that I have made some grave mistakes in my previous lists (the musical ones, mostly), but inspired by a dirty girl's myspace (OK, last time I'll call you that), I found a new list: people I would like to meet. Funnily, these lists interfere somewhat: afterall, I am a lover - a music lover that is.
For reference,here and here you can find my previous posts on lists.
So what of the music? I realised that one of the people I dearly regret not seeing live is Elvis Costello. Fortunately, it is my understanding that he will be at the Ghentse Fieste this year, so I will finally make up on that - I'm hoping he will even outdo his legendary performance on Werchter some years ago. So I need to fit in 'I want You' somewhere in there. It breaks my heart, but I have to get Grand Jacques off the list.
Am I out of my misery now? Noooooo! Because I have realised that a good criterium for 'best song ever' is how willing I am to listen to it time and again, preferably continuously. That brings me to the point: My Cruel Joke just needs to be in there. This by itself is not a problem, but what to drop, what to drop? Ah well: I'll go for the only classical tune there: probably hurts my image (stop laughing, all you), but although it is definitely my favourite classical piece, I'm just not so much of a classical music type of guy.
So here's my updated list (once again, not in any order but that of randomness' uttermost completeness):
But hey, if I told you everything now already, you wouldn't be back for more.
Just one more quote for the hell of it:
(Those guys probably implanted the 'Devil in my dick' and the 'Demons in my semen' round the time Willy (NOT the body part) was my best friend. I miss old friends (sat on a park bench like bookends - how terribly strange to be seventeen))
For reference,here and here you can find my previous posts on lists.
So what of the music? I realised that one of the people I dearly regret not seeing live is Elvis Costello. Fortunately, it is my understanding that he will be at the Ghentse Fieste this year, so I will finally make up on that - I'm hoping he will even outdo his legendary performance on Werchter some years ago. So I need to fit in 'I want You' somewhere in there. It breaks my heart, but I have to get Grand Jacques off the list.
Am I out of my misery now? Noooooo! Because I have realised that a good criterium for 'best song ever' is how willing I am to listen to it time and again, preferably continuously. That brings me to the point: My Cruel Joke just needs to be in there. This by itself is not a problem, but what to drop, what to drop? Ah well: I'll go for the only classical tune there: probably hurts my image (stop laughing, all you), but although it is definitely my favourite classical piece, I'm just not so much of a classical music type of guy.
So here's my updated list (once again, not in any order but that of randomness' uttermost completeness):
- So here's my updated list (once again, not in any order but that of the randomness' uttermost completeness)
- Lilac Wine - Jeff Buckley (Grace is everything)
- Go - Pearl Jam (Just passing it on: suppose I abused you? Flippen)
- No Shuffle - Front 242 (Emptiness endlessness senselessness)
- I'm Deranged - David Bowie (Lost Highway-ender with the best transition ever)
- Schism - Tool (If Stephen Hawkings were to write a love song)
- Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead (The spine, everytime)
- Small Change - Tom Waits (Well-Spoken Word)
- My Cruel Joke - Soulwax & Tray Bonham (Close eyes and submerge)
- I Want You - Elvis Costello (Give me a hug)
- Goin' Home - Dinosaur Jr. (That little riff brings me home)
- Jeff Buckley (it would mean he'd still be there. Silence would suffice)
- Beethoven (Find out if he really was a punker)
- Trent Reznor (How can 1 man write both 'Closer' and 'Hurt' and be an asshole?)
- Frank Vandenbroucke (Politician with a brain and a drive)
- You
- Thom Yorke (Not really, I guess: too scared for disappointment)
- Va (Just keeps popping up, lately)
- Any German during the war (Was it madness? Sheer stupidity? Avalanche? Evil?)
- The Big Kahuna/God/Mother Nature (Why?)
- Hermann Hesse (I used to be the Steppenwolf and plan to read Siddharta)
But hey, if I told you everything now already, you wouldn't be back for more.
Just one more quote for the hell of it:
A little by came along
Named a Louis Armstrong
Said that Girl who left me silly,
She like the looks of me and my willy.
So I found her in the Quarter:
Good god how I adored her.
Oh she made me feel so cozy
When she told me I could call her Rosie.
(Apache Rose Peacock - Red Hot Chili Peppers)
(Those guys probably implanted the 'Devil in my dick' and the 'Demons in my semen' round the time Willy (NOT the body part) was my best friend. I miss old friends (sat on a park bench like bookends - how terribly strange to be seventeen))
Werkwoord
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Niet uit medeleven
Dat vond ik even
Ongepast
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Naar lichaamswarmte streven
Met opgeheven
Hoofd
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Maar de beestjes bleven kleven
Aan leven, niet zoëven
Geleden
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Maar fysiek gewend de steven
Ben ik gebleven
Op afstand
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Bleef lichaamsvreemd beven
Verder leven
Alleen
Niet uit medeleven
Dat vond ik even
Ongepast
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Naar lichaamswarmte streven
Met opgeheven
Hoofd
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Maar de beestjes bleven kleven
Aan leven, niet zoëven
Geleden
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Maar fysiek gewend de steven
Ben ik gebleven
Op afstand
Ik wou een knuffel geven
Bleef lichaamsvreemd beven
Verder leven
Alleen
20070420
Recipe for lonely
After the rush.
Media silence
Others' popularity !
And the tiny man.
The tiny tiny man.
Is your body out there?
Is any body out there?
Is any body ever out there?
Ears are body parts.
After the rush.
Just one more shot, right?
Media silence
Others' popularity !
And the tiny man.
The tiny tiny man.
Is your body out there?
Is any body out there?
Is any body ever out there?
Ears are body parts.
After the rush.
Just one more shot, right?
20070419
Rediscovery
I have very recently rediscovered this song.
In fact, I have a strong suspicion that anyone with the hardware and the brains to do so could make a brilliant mix of this with 'The Prayer' by Bloc Party, which was the idea that led to me listening again.
And yes, at least one of my readers may take this as a challenge.
Anyway: here are the lyrics (which make sense by themselves, but are best appreciated when the song is challenging the top level of your speakers)
Soulwax (& Tracy Bonham) - My Cruel Joke
(Insert brilliant intro here)
Tracy Bonham:
I used to think cupid was a real jerk
A child star -tormented
A faded star of yesterday now toothless and jaded
He shoots his arrows wildely with bottles
Scattered across the sky - he trips on clouds
With a face like Keith Richards
Stephen Dewaele:
I am your voice what you propose
I am your voice your vow to be
Whatever you do
I'll agree
Please forgive me my cruel joke
I'm everywhere - partial and entire
I'm on the inside of everything
And on the outside
I'm trembling like a man away from home
But I can't speak my heart
In case they hear me
Now, no one will listen to our song
I am your voice what you propose
I am your voice your vow to be
Whatever you do
I'll agree
Please forgive me my cruel joke
Tracy Bonham:
I used to think cupid was an asshole
The lonliest soul in the universe
And as the wrinkled birdman approached me
I could smell his smouldering cigarette breath
And he looked at me out the corner of his head and he spoke
So, you ask me why no one stays together anymore
You're never around when I need you
You're never around when I need you
(Insert outro that haunts for days on end)
In fact, I have a strong suspicion that anyone with the hardware and the brains to do so could make a brilliant mix of this with 'The Prayer' by Bloc Party, which was the idea that led to me listening again.
And yes, at least one of my readers may take this as a challenge.
Anyway: here are the lyrics (which make sense by themselves, but are best appreciated when the song is challenging the top level of your speakers)
Soulwax (& Tracy Bonham) - My Cruel Joke
(Insert brilliant intro here)
Tracy Bonham:
I used to think cupid was a real jerk
A child star -tormented
A faded star of yesterday now toothless and jaded
He shoots his arrows wildely with bottles
Scattered across the sky - he trips on clouds
With a face like Keith Richards
Stephen Dewaele:
I am your voice what you propose
I am your voice your vow to be
Whatever you do
I'll agree
Please forgive me my cruel joke
I'm everywhere - partial and entire
I'm on the inside of everything
And on the outside
I'm trembling like a man away from home
But I can't speak my heart
In case they hear me
Now, no one will listen to our song
I am your voice what you propose
I am your voice your vow to be
Whatever you do
I'll agree
Please forgive me my cruel joke
Tracy Bonham:
I used to think cupid was an asshole
The lonliest soul in the universe
And as the wrinkled birdman approached me
I could smell his smouldering cigarette breath
And he looked at me out the corner of his head and he spoke
So, you ask me why no one stays together anymore
You're never around when I need you
You're never around when I need you
(Insert outro that haunts for days on end)
20070418
Ongenomen afscheid
Net als va kan ik bloemen
niet in leven houden.
Er staan vast Orchideeën bij
zijn graf.
Orchideeën zijn droeve planten.
20070417
Consenting adultery
It's all wrong but it's alright.
Somehow I managed to become happy, sensual (meaning: using my senses - well except perhaps my common one), aroused by life itself.
I'm willing to make more decisions now (my priorities are shifting 1-2-3-4-Rallye). This evening I will make one (potentially regretted by some; well: I may publish my life, but there is no voting)
I'm feeling more tired and sick (because of the operation and lack of oxygen) than I hoped, but just like last time, there fortunately are some events that keep fueling my joy (thank you Claudine). I plan on being a merrier, marrieder man.
Expect more!
Oh yes: and I really want to know more about afro-brasilian dancing :-)
Stop whispering, start shouting!
Somehow I managed to become happy, sensual (meaning: using my senses - well except perhaps my common one), aroused by life itself.
I'm willing to make more decisions now (my priorities are shifting 1-2-3-4-Rallye). This evening I will make one (potentially regretted by some; well: I may publish my life, but there is no voting)
I'm feeling more tired and sick (because of the operation and lack of oxygen) than I hoped, but just like last time, there fortunately are some events that keep fueling my joy (thank you Claudine). I plan on being a merrier, marrieder man.
Expect more!
Oh yes: and I really want to know more about afro-brasilian dancing :-)
Stop whispering, start shouting!
20070302
20070221
20070213
The Prayer
Strange, my relation with this band: the whole world seems to have discovered them on their previous record, but apart from the titles, I wouldn't even recognize any of the tunes, I guess.
Then again: I remember me buying Siamese Dream and Ten in a huge (make that humonguous) CD-shop in Köln, two years after the hype, and guess what: those are the breakthrough records of bands I have loved (and in one case still do) for years.
It all starts with that incentive beat and the african-chant-style humming, torn wide open by one of the finest opening lines in recent musical history, sung with the pathos of the better Shakespearian drama. It sucks you in and pulls you under. The theme is so well-cut and familiar to me, that I could have written the lyrics myself: the silently screamed request - or prayer if you will - for being the best 'yourself' that is in you, on the evening of the supposedly greatest party in years. I will impress everybody with my dance moves, I'll be clever on the wits, tell the perfect jokes at the right time, who knows, I know I will at least feel that some girls are charmed by me - and I may take that as far as just not crossing borders or choose to ignore it at all: but it will be at my power. I will be a local king tonight. Friends will come abound, money will not be of matter and the DJ will play my songs. Tonight make me unstoppable.
Then all that is just emphasized by this videoclip: all scenes are so familiar! The sitting boredly around waiting for something to ignite the night, the beautiful woman that is somehow everywhere, the daze of beats and substances, the looking around triumphantly (the view of his eyes and mouth while walking around is better facial acting than anything Jim Carey ever produced): this song is a drug. I want to play it over and over, I want it to try and bore me but it still makes me want to bare my teeth when singing along...
...and then there is the sting: of course the song is also about mostly not getting any of that.
Oh in short: everybody: listen to Bloc Party/!
And did I mention they're coming to Rock werchter this year =) ?
Then again: I remember me buying Siamese Dream and Ten in a huge (make that humonguous) CD-shop in Köln, two years after the hype, and guess what: those are the breakthrough records of bands I have loved (and in one case still do) for years.
It all starts with that incentive beat and the african-chant-style humming, torn wide open by one of the finest opening lines in recent musical history, sung with the pathos of the better Shakespearian drama. It sucks you in and pulls you under. The theme is so well-cut and familiar to me, that I could have written the lyrics myself: the silently screamed request - or prayer if you will - for being the best 'yourself' that is in you, on the evening of the supposedly greatest party in years. I will impress everybody with my dance moves, I'll be clever on the wits, tell the perfect jokes at the right time, who knows, I know I will at least feel that some girls are charmed by me - and I may take that as far as just not crossing borders or choose to ignore it at all: but it will be at my power. I will be a local king tonight. Friends will come abound, money will not be of matter and the DJ will play my songs. Tonight make me unstoppable.
Then all that is just emphasized by this videoclip: all scenes are so familiar! The sitting boredly around waiting for something to ignite the night, the beautiful woman that is somehow everywhere, the daze of beats and substances, the looking around triumphantly (the view of his eyes and mouth while walking around is better facial acting than anything Jim Carey ever produced): this song is a drug. I want to play it over and over, I want it to try and bore me but it still makes me want to bare my teeth when singing along...
...and then there is the sting: of course the song is also about mostly not getting any of that.
Oh in short: everybody: listen to Bloc Party/!
And did I mention they're coming to Rock werchter this year =) ?
20070124
Guess who?
Well maybe 'guess when' would be more appropriate =)
No use in dwelling over the past, so I'll just let my consciousness float and see where it will take me this time around.
First of all, I'm intensely proud of the score on my exam Chinese: 96% is what I would consider really good. There is however something that troubles me: it seems I am the only one in the class that go a score remotely this good. Most people stayed well under 70%, so if it gets even harder (read: more characters to know by heart), some of them may fail to make it to the next grade. This is quintessential, because besides me liking the lot of 'em, it may also bar my options of making it: there simply may not be a fourth grade if not enough students hang in there!
But I'll just worry about that later - mostly =)
What else is up? I finally got to talk - if only for 3 minutes or so - to wan laoshi. In those 180 seconds, she managed to tell me that she had slept bad, because she dreamt about her mother because she had been pushing thoughts on the whole situation to the back of her head.
There you have someone who seems in need of 'letting it out', right? Unfortunately my conversational skills (and, admittedly, my fear of people in general) choked my throat on the idea of suggesting we go for a drink and chat a while. I'm constantly wondering if I'm being intrusive. My mind is playing tricks on me again: layer one is thinking about her and all of her troubles a lot, and is very keen on just lending a shoulder. But then layer two (or the little devil/lawyer/devil's advocate on my shoulder) is saying: nah, you're just being curious, and you dislike curious people. Meet layer three: oh, come on, don't make it so hard for yourself: Ilse just told you: everybody just wants you to listen, you like her, and even if that idiot on your other shoulder is somewhat right, who cares: your intentions are good.
When I think of it (and I have done so a lot, lately), all my troubles are about my lack of confidence in myself.
I want(ed) to overachieve in my job because I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough
I'm awfully scared of people not liking me: I lie awake wondering if Ilse is simply staying with me out of habit, and wonder while riding to work if my best friends are starting to hate me because of me.
Then of course, that is only enlarged by the fact that that fear is preventing me from giving the proper attention to my friends, and people in general: no, I will not phone him right now, he may be busy and that would be disturbing and then he'd never talk to me again. No, I'm not going to have a long conversation over MSN right now, because I may say something that he wouldn't understand and before you know it, we'd be flaming. Ah, let's avoid that person I know in the supermarket: they don't want to have a chat with someone who is not good at chatting: we'd both feel bad.
Finally, there is the overshot countermeasure: I'm so uncertain of about anything I say, that I have to convince myself while talking. This makes me hard to bear in any conversation where I feel ill understood: I get more stubborn than a female donkey at that time of the month, and I know that my voice, body and other language start to radiate that the person(s) I'm having a discussion with, are not only wrong, but their hair is the wrong colour and their children are also wrong. Even when everybody in the room thinks that the world is a ball, I will act like they're the greatest idiots in not thinking that there still is a chance, technically and very unlikely, granted, but still a chance that the world is a giant salami. I'm quite certain that (besides initial slips of bodyparts like brain, tongue and occasionally genitals) nobody will have heard me say that the world is actually a salami, but I know from experience that they will tell anybody else (or me when I have calmed down) that they DID hear me say that, and that they felt insulted by my so-called self-assuredness. If you remember Alf from TV-show: he'd have the ideal bit of laughter to fit here.
Oh bloody complaints! I just neede to get some of this off me. Actually, the last days were quite nice. I did a great job on my job, managed to spend time with Prutske and the Prullabees (that name doesn't sound very positive, but I'll just leave it for the sake of inspiration), enjoyed the marks on my kaoshi, read some Rumo, saw engulfing episodes of Lost (followed by the horrific constatation that my Ally McBeal downloads ended up being synched in German - there is just no way that I can imagine these crazy funny little people talking like Rammstein), took action to get out of the house again, arranged people to come build our bathroom (it was hell at the time, but I was very proud afterwards of my salesman's skills in making people come up themselves with what I wanted them to do - I'm aware I can do that, but I always fear these conversations because I'm ethically unsure whether this should be done; fortunately, in this case, it was the same to them and all the better for us. Three cheers for me then, eh?)
Well, I don't have a lot to do, but Ilse will appreciate it if it is mostly done by the time she gets home, so I'm off. I plan on having more time later on this week (friday should work out...)
No use in dwelling over the past, so I'll just let my consciousness float and see where it will take me this time around.
First of all, I'm intensely proud of the score on my exam Chinese: 96% is what I would consider really good. There is however something that troubles me: it seems I am the only one in the class that go a score remotely this good. Most people stayed well under 70%, so if it gets even harder (read: more characters to know by heart), some of them may fail to make it to the next grade. This is quintessential, because besides me liking the lot of 'em, it may also bar my options of making it: there simply may not be a fourth grade if not enough students hang in there!
But I'll just worry about that later - mostly =)
What else is up? I finally got to talk - if only for 3 minutes or so - to wan laoshi. In those 180 seconds, she managed to tell me that she had slept bad, because she dreamt about her mother because she had been pushing thoughts on the whole situation to the back of her head.
There you have someone who seems in need of 'letting it out', right? Unfortunately my conversational skills (and, admittedly, my fear of people in general) choked my throat on the idea of suggesting we go for a drink and chat a while. I'm constantly wondering if I'm being intrusive. My mind is playing tricks on me again: layer one is thinking about her and all of her troubles a lot, and is very keen on just lending a shoulder. But then layer two (or the little devil/lawyer/devil's advocate on my shoulder) is saying: nah, you're just being curious, and you dislike curious people. Meet layer three: oh, come on, don't make it so hard for yourself: Ilse just told you: everybody just wants you to listen, you like her, and even if that idiot on your other shoulder is somewhat right, who cares: your intentions are good.
Then fourabee (technically, it's probably threeabee, unless you wish to interpret my nickname as just my cathedral-shaped spiritcontainer) kicks in: isn't it very awkward to talk to someone of whom you know ehrm... a lot and then again not? Will this not harm (change?) your relationship with the man who bridged two branches of maths? And didn't you promise yourself to make/take more to time for family matters? How in heavens are you going to fit that in? You already missed too many fitness classes. When I think of it, fourabee is probably that guy that I always drag along some three feet below.Am I just turning a thought on someone I like and who may like my support
into another complaint about being me? Oh, I can do that, can't I? This IS my
blog, right? And even my website from way back in the WINA-days says I'm an
egotist. So in fact I don't even need an explanation for doing it. There is
definitely a reasoning error in there somewhere (which in turn reminds me of the
wonderful movie of the immortal (at least half of them so far) Gaston and Leo
where Gaston proves time and again that 7 x 14 = 35. Half our globe can't even
say where the error in his reasoning is!!) but what the heck: On with it
anyway
When I think of it (and I have done so a lot, lately), all my troubles are about my lack of confidence in myself.
I want(ed) to overachieve in my job because I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough
I'm awfully scared of people not liking me: I lie awake wondering if Ilse is simply staying with me out of habit, and wonder while riding to work if my best friends are starting to hate me because of me.
Then of course, that is only enlarged by the fact that that fear is preventing me from giving the proper attention to my friends, and people in general: no, I will not phone him right now, he may be busy and that would be disturbing and then he'd never talk to me again. No, I'm not going to have a long conversation over MSN right now, because I may say something that he wouldn't understand and before you know it, we'd be flaming. Ah, let's avoid that person I know in the supermarket: they don't want to have a chat with someone who is not good at chatting: we'd both feel bad.
Finally, there is the overshot countermeasure: I'm so uncertain of about anything I say, that I have to convince myself while talking. This makes me hard to bear in any conversation where I feel ill understood: I get more stubborn than a female donkey at that time of the month, and I know that my voice, body and other language start to radiate that the person(s) I'm having a discussion with, are not only wrong, but their hair is the wrong colour and their children are also wrong. Even when everybody in the room thinks that the world is a ball, I will act like they're the greatest idiots in not thinking that there still is a chance, technically and very unlikely, granted, but still a chance that the world is a giant salami. I'm quite certain that (besides initial slips of bodyparts like brain, tongue and occasionally genitals) nobody will have heard me say that the world is actually a salami, but I know from experience that they will tell anybody else (or me when I have calmed down) that they DID hear me say that, and that they felt insulted by my so-called self-assuredness. If you remember Alf from TV-show: he'd have the ideal bit of laughter to fit here.
Oh bloody complaints! I just neede to get some of this off me. Actually, the last days were quite nice. I did a great job on my job, managed to spend time with Prutske and the Prullabees (that name doesn't sound very positive, but I'll just leave it for the sake of inspiration), enjoyed the marks on my kaoshi, read some Rumo, saw engulfing episodes of Lost (followed by the horrific constatation that my Ally McBeal downloads ended up being synched in German - there is just no way that I can imagine these crazy funny little people talking like Rammstein), took action to get out of the house again, arranged people to come build our bathroom (it was hell at the time, but I was very proud afterwards of my salesman's skills in making people come up themselves with what I wanted them to do - I'm aware I can do that, but I always fear these conversations because I'm ethically unsure whether this should be done; fortunately, in this case, it was the same to them and all the better for us. Three cheers for me then, eh?)
Well, I don't have a lot to do, but Ilse will appreciate it if it is mostly done by the time she gets home, so I'm off. I plan on having more time later on this week (friday should work out...)
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