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.
20070430
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!
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