My, my, my ...

... where has the time gone.

It's been a while since I wrote stuff and let's just say: I blame Santa. And next year I'll get him for it.

We had a fun time during christmas. Diner with Kamiel on the first day, books all around, a nice meal with scotch, silly fun with christmas crackers and then: The Sound Of Music. Really odd thing: Kamiel had never seen the thing in its entirety. Huh. Living in a western country and never having seen The Sound Of Music ... I'd have expected that to be some sort of crime, really.

All in all I think dinner was great and this is something I want to continue doing for a load of christmasses to come. Because it's fun. You haven't had christmas until you've had four paper hats on your head at the same time. I will endeavour to make desert something nice to look at as well, though, next year.

Second day we were at Susie's mum's place. Again fun and games ensued. And dinner, naturally. I finally encountered a Wii-console and it's sort of nice. But I suck at tennis. I do not suck at 'picture this' which is another sort of game all together ... and I think we won. Though I'm not sure and perfectly willling to cede victory to any interested party.

After this ... there was one work day for me in a deserted DMB.

A lot of closed doors. Which was good. Because there was some mail left over from days past. So, I got to do that. I'm looking forward to more of that next time I'm there ... which will be the 2nd of january. Joy!

Whilst I was at work, though, Suus was entertaining my nephew, Nathaniel. Sweet kid. There were potatoes. There were movies. There is playmobil.

Then, the next day ... we traded that one in for another nephew, Matz. Sweet kid. There was playmobil. A lot of it. And trust me: you haven't slept under duress until you've had someone sing a mangled version of Oh, Denneboom at you at 5:30 in the morning. Awesome. Never again.

He was very sweet even when we took him to Aikido and he had to be relatively quiet for an hour nd a half. Unfortunately from there on out my day soured a bit (and consequently the day of all my beloveds) when I fell victim to a rather hefty migraine. Which was a shame because in the evening there was bowling planned and, though, I'm not a big fan of trying to walk in someone else's shoes (though the Depeche Mode song is kinda cool (on Songs of faith and devotion) ... I'd have liked to join. But alas I had pain. Or was stoned in the shower. Or asleep. Or a combination of all three.

Which brings us to now.

Today we shall undertake some sporting activity yet again, when we assail the torture chambers of Randers/De Geus by doing ... fitness. Which is something I have done a grand total of once. So, em-bare-ass-ment will be my goal and my target. Whether I try for it or not. We shall be three. Francisco has kindly offered to leave us all in the dust of his personal programme so: yippie! Honestly that man is a lunatic. But a huggable one.

Should be fun.


Yesterday ...

... I learned something funny: 10% of dutch people think that Santa Claus is a biblical figure. And, you know, NOT an inventention by the Coca-Cola company. Or maybe they think Coca-Cola is in the bible too. Maybe ingesting too much cola is how they got to the point where they think that Santa is in the bible. Maybe they invest too much belief into cola ...


It was funny.

I went outside just now lured by the cries from sealions. There's something else you don't hear very often outside of a zoo. It seems that for the wintercircus four sealions are needed and they had there little pool just behind Carre. And that is just half a block behind my workplace. So, I went there and saw some impromptu performance from four sealions. They were singing and clapping and waving all for the benefit of the gathered cameras. They were funny and sweet and it was the nicest thing I've seen in quite some time. It was christmassy. And very cold. But a lot of fun!


To ...

... whom it may concern: I'm fine. I've just forgotten my phone! It's on the table, somewhere. Nothing wrong. Just, you know, forgotten. I'm defencelss. I'm ... alone ...

When did we become a race of gerbils, ladies and gentlemen, chattering away on our mobies? When did it become de rigeur to be able to reach someone, anywhere, any time? I bought mine, years ago, to be able to be in easy reach if my grandmother took a turn for the worse and after that issue was resolved I was sort of stuck with it and everyone's expectations. I still feel uncomfortable using it to call in public. Must be a generation gap there ... I do like SMS, though. The high-tech equivalent of smoke-signals or two cans and a bit of wire. Modern morse code. That's sort of fun. Oh well ...

I'l probably curse myself if it turns out that the trains are delayed and I'm unable to call my girl.

Often when I see two people talking on their phones I imagine them calling each other. It's a persistent image, bollocks at best, but it's entertaining, somehow. And maybe a bit sad.

But I'm fine.

The christmas gifts of the DMB have been passed out today. And I, as hired hand, here already for 6 months (does time fly or what?), was not deemed worthy enough to receive one. I'm at peace with that, they probably need the budget but it's striking. And bad public relations. I know I have no need of one, certainly since I've seen the contents of the box but I notice that to my mind it emphasizes the outsider position I hold and I seem to care a little less about my duties, today.

Fortunately my true employers have not forgotten me ... they do love me! Ha!

Another thing that strikes me is that people are rather graceless in accepting the things bestowed upon them by their grateful employers. It's never good enough. Oh, LeSigh. It's disheartening to listen to.


Just ...

... saw something on TV that was ... well, amusing.

They (whoever they are) rifled through their (or whoever's) archives and came up with some old music from old concerts. One was by Sammy Davis jr. and another couple of songs were taken from a concert by Jaques Brel.

The amazing thing was that these two gentlemen knew how to engage a room completely with nothing but a good song and maybe some comedy. Very minimal to our modern eyes. Brel was just ... standing there. Microphone. Accoustic guitar on his knee. Leg up on a normal wooden chair. Just belting out 'Les Flamands'. It was wonderful.

Now, I like Brel. He was ... brilliant, I suppose. The other guy, Sammy davis jr. he never ever really appears on my radar. Not my thing. But it was a thing of beauty, the way he played with an audience. He had a band with him. And he sang. And he danced a little. And he told some short jokes. But it was very intense and funny.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I guess what I like to say is: if you cannot do it beneath a bare lightbulb then you cannot do it. Also: it's very impressive that these gentlemen dared doing stuff like this. I'd be shitting my pants. Also: maybe we depend too much on the trappings of modern technology in music and concerts.

Maybe that's why I appreciate the new Nirvana DVD, unplugged. (That and it's basically a wake for Kurt).

Maybe these days it's all too easy to hide behind electronics like auto-tuners and effects and super production. But I'm convinced that the truth will out, that true genius and talent wil reveal itself.

But maybe only when the electricity fails ...

Buy some Brel, he's excellent. there's some power there in music and lyrics ...

On to something else. We have a christmas tree. It's huge. We have decorated the house. We are in a christmassy sort of mood. I like this time of the year and I'm happy that it's here again. Also happy that the insane month of december is almost gone. Too many parties, people. We cram things into that final weeks simply because we're afraid of things ending I suspect. Here's a newsflash: life goes on past the 31st of december. Spread the wealth, people .... dump some stuff in january. If there's ever a boring month it's january. Truly boring, boring, boring ...


Talking about Brel I decided to do some YouTubing:


His most famous song ever and I guess one of the best songs ever recorded ever. The only tiny problem i have is that Nina Simone (whom we adore as well even if she was madder than a hat full of bees) did a version too:


... and I can't for the life of me decide which version I like better. I like them both. It's ... a fairly painful tune. Enjoy.

And tell me which you like better.

EDIT ... again.

There's loads of them. Really. People should not be covering this ... I wouldn't dare. Here's another one with the french subtitles. For those who want to see what he's singing.



Several ...

... things.

If cocks crow I think it's only fair if crows learn how to cock. Animal rights organisations should look into this.

Further: Doris Lessing thinks blogging is a waste of time. Which makes me giggle. Because I blog about it and because I wrote my thesis on her ...


Also note that that page is filled with stupid ads. And it's on the internet. Thus proving that it's useless to fight progress and internet porn and WoW and LOLkitten and PostSecret. Seriously though: read more books. Or else Doris might come and haunt you.

Also today:

Some serious wonderful panoramic pictures. Enjoy.



Yesterday ...

... was the day of the bishop of Mirra, Sint Nicolaas. So, we gave eachother gifts. There has been a severe amount of money spending going around and, speaking for myself, I can honestly say that i like the result.

Let's see now:

There were loads and loads of DVD's. Dr.Who DVD's. House season 1. GilmoreGirls season 7 (yay! Complete!) Fraggle DVD's. Henson was god. And I suppose he's up in heaven nbow ... animating ... something. Then there was the Nirvana unplugged DVD. A chilling piece of TV if ever I saw one. The last will and testament and wake of Kurt Cobain ... and there was a Dr.Who encyclopedia.

My girl got PlayMobil. And the newest Quentin Tarantino movie on DVD. It's all a bit shocking.

I'm happy. I watched fraggles being great on DVD before going to work today. That was bliss.

Of course after folding 300 letters and accepting a request for a permit that came in a fucking cart (it was that large) I thought I was going a bit simple. So, you know, that suited the Fraggles well, I suspect.


So ...

... at work.

It was a most interesting day, work-wise, as it is the first day that I have had to create and send the announcements of impending doom or, you know, other stuff, like waterreleases and stuff on my own. Without the aid of a blonde girl. She's sorely missed. Mostly because now I have to act responsible and all that malarcky.

Yesterday I had a nice karate training. I was lowest in rank, a low green belt. then came a blue, then a brown and then four black belts. Needless to say the trainer took the opportunity (few students and a lot of high ranked people) to really dig into some difficult stuff. The bunkai of pinan godan. ... the application of one of the forms. That might be clearer. All in all quite a nice lesson, though difficult.

But having auntie Tineke there always helps. She's nice.

Also: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3i8unA3hBdU



So ... the birthday celebrations have come and gone and I'm one year older officially. Still waiting to become wiser but there you go. Can't have everything.

I got treated to drinks and dinner by two lovely ladies on the 30th and that was loads of fun. And on the 1st everyone and their pets came over to hug and kiss and eat and drink and it was awesome. I ... was happy.

Also: booze.

Anyway. My girlfriend has given me the gift of wrestling with eagles and we appreciate it. Toying with the big birds is, well, fun. As long as they don't take away important elements of ones' physique ... as soon as we've been and know what's what we'll let the world know. Provided, of course, I can still type.

All in all pretty good fun! I'd recommend it to anyone this birthday thing. You get to see people, talk to them and stuff.

On a side note: congrats to Francisco's little fighting men (Marco, Vincent) and woman (liesbeth) for being awesome and scoring a first, second and third place for their trainer. Now, I know he's the only one who actually knows about this blog so I can savely state that they would all be utter shyte without your help, dude.


Even Marco.

I mean: Vincent won something. You know, other than the "Too many knees will kill you competition"-in coördination akwardness. Really impressive. And slightly unexpected.

So, you must be doing something right!


To ...

... all gawkers at accidents and misery: I hate you. With a fervent passion. Try to get some honest excitement in your life instead of having to hover over someone else's misfortune as if it's entertainment.

You bastards.


That said and done; Next!
We all need a little criticism. It's a goods thing. We all need a little praise. That too is a good thing. But I have a sneaking suspicion that too much of either makes us ineffectual and stale and inactive. So: don't judge others too harshly, too strongly or too blatantly. Certainly do not walk up to someone to tell them that they think too much of themselves. It's fucking rude. Certainly so if that person is really trying very hard indeed.

You bastards.


You know, I wouldn't be surprised at all if all people who are overly critical turn out to be gawkers at accidents. Uncaring, unfeeling, shit-for-brains.

/rant over.


Pointless ...

... information: if I try to type in the name 'Hilleke' in an SMS it throws up 'Gillelf'. A screaming elf. Well ... how convenient.


This ...

... just in: Satan does not use Friendster.

There is, however, a God on there. In the guise of a young man from Amsterdam.

That'll be all, folks.


I don't use it. But if you're going to make a joke about it it's nice to link to it.

I would like some explanation, though. What is this current obsession with network sites ... Hyves, friendster, MySpace ... as far as I can tell it's just people ahving a few pics up maybe meeting poeple who never talk to them again and who call themselves 'friends' and then meeting people they have lost contact with over the years who therefore cannot be all that important because, you know, they LOST contact over the years.

Am I missing a point here?

besides. Some of the bastards whom I met on my trek through, for example, my schools I wouldn't want to see even a hint of a shadow from. Let alone add them as 'friend'.

What ho ...

... supposedly Santa Claus is no longer allowed to say 'Ho Ho Ho'. This is because Ho's are bad, I gather, in America. they should get better ones ... or, you know, a better mindset about the ones they already have. Plus, censorship of a fictional character is ludicrous to the extreme. Next thing you know they'll censor Donald Duck for being hard to understand and an affront to people with a speech problem.

Americans are bastards.

At work. Having cookies. And doing the occassional bit of work, even. Pretty soon I'll be ... alone ... so, currently I'm quietly enjoying the fact that this is the last week that I'm capable of actually shifting responsibilty and blame to other people. Oh well.

My darling father of 70 years old has accepted a temporary teaching job! He's going to join my girlfriend at her school for a period of five weeks due to a little misunderstanding that led to a position opening up for a few weeks. Now, he has 35 years of teaching experience so I'll trust that everything will be okay. I still wish him all the best, though. And give the assurance that we will visit bloody vengeance on any disrespectful youth who gets in his way. None shall stand before us, of those who think to harm my old man.

On a less vengefull note: it seems that Suusje gave this same speech to her own class and they were suitably impressed with her vehemence.

Still: nice that such an old man can finally manage to be gainfully employed and be a contributing factor in today's society and not only leech off the economy.


Updated the other one!



There also: The Bathroom Woodpecker!

I have had a nice evening with my family and I have finally received my grandfather's old watch. It's one of those old pocket-watches which one should fasten to your clothing by means of a chain. It's by now older than my granddad managed to become since he died way too early. You don't always get what you want. But I have his watch and I think it's a fabulous keep-sake. Something to remember him by.

Not that I really was in any danger of forgetting him.

This was a gentleman who, in the interbellum, a time of general discontent and crisis, protested against circumstances by laying Amsterdam's horse-drawn trams on their side with a couple of buddies.

How can you not love someone who managed THAT?


Yesterday ...

... I invented the bathroom woodpecker. This is a bird that manifests itself by rythmically tapping the pipes in the bathroom. It's strangely averse to light but, as I am assured, will fly out from open windows in the night to meet up with his friends from other bathrooms. Just so that you know. It's interesting what your mind kicks up, sometimes. But somehow the idea of a bathroom woodpecker made me very happy. And this is a good thing.

yesterday I had the pleasure to meet someone who objected to prostitution. Not so much the work itself but the fact that it was visible on the streets. Fascinating, right? This must be one of those ladies who sweeps the dirt from the floor under the rug until the rug is lying on one meter of filth all the while proclaiming that there's nothing wrong.

Sometimes I despair of single human specimens.

To clarify: I do not see prostitution as filth. I see them as a useful part of society. She didn't however. Rather rude.

I should update the other blog more. I have some new paintings, some new photographs and stuff but haven't taken the time to do something with them. I'm baaaaad. Sorry.


Another ...

... praise to Amsterdam piece. Yes, there are a lot of them. But let's face it, there's hardly a more rewarding thing then to be approached by a gaggle of italian tourists who are desperately seeking the Damstraat because there one can find the Cannabis Museum. Apparently. I love that stuff. It's nice to walk around this town and see tourists look around and be amazed and think to yourself that you are working in the best town around.

Chauvinism is the virtue of the vicious.

Anyway. Love it here. Even in this rancid time of year. Awfully dark and dank weather.

Something else: http://www.bowmore.co.uk/BlackBowmore.aspx

Oh. My. God. Me want precioussss!!!


Interesting ...

... show today on VH1. Yes, I was surprised too.

The 50 worst videos ever.

And let me tell you, there were some howlers there. Color me badd (with: Girl, I want to sex you up ... this from four guys who never had sex because they were ugly. Oh, and one has to be gay. There was this line in it: We'll do it ... 'till we wake up. I have to say that if you manage to fall asleep whilst performing a sexual act you may have issues.) Vanilla Ice, naturally. (Essentially that nice white rap fellow who ripped off a queen bass-line). That gentlemen who likes to 'move it'. Whatever 'it' might be and where-ever it needs to be moved to. I suspect he has a van, though. There was a combo called ToTo Coelho with I Eat Cannibals, funniest song title in a long time. Then there was a hideous, hideous song by a 'girl' called Danni ... which clip featured .... THE SOURCE, Cole Turner, from Charmed ... in a fluorescent green/pink shirt, I'm sure he likes to forget that ... but they considered Eiffel65 to have delivered the biggest hit on our good taste with 'I'm Blue'.

Now, that is bad.

But nowhere near the worst.

the worst was in there, though. And it's a hideous piece of cynical money-grabbing necrophillia ... Five and Queen singing We Will Rock You. There was a lot of money earned on that one. And it's shyte. I don't even like Queen, but I recognise that this version does nothing, adds nothing, brings nothing except cash to people who were rich already but liked the attention. And it's such a bad motive for creating anything, it's shocking. It's a piece of contemptable piss.

Honestly, I prefer Danni.


Well ...

... I finished The Stone Gods and it tuned out better than I envisaged. So, you know, get it, read it. It's not her best but her and its heart are in the right place. I have taken up reading Dune again. Mainly because, you know, it's that time of the year again. For some reason I always read some part of Dune again at least once a year. The originals, by the way, by Frank Herbert. Not his son's ... stuff. I have to go through sonny boy's work though. His father left the outline of the final book of the series and and son-dear is finishing the series. So, it'll be Frank's ideas in junior's language ... oh, boy. Still ... we'll see. Have to get it soonish.

Other than that: the Zwarte Pieten are hanging again in De Bijenkorf and out of pure sentimentality I visited them yesterday (that and more importantly, I needed to buy a gift for my girl). It's nice to see that certain things still remain. Eventhough I have the feeling that there's some qualityloss there, much to my regret.

Furthermore: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epUk3T2Kfno

Too cute. There's a very good reason for this behaviour but you can bloody well google for it. I'm not going to spoil everything.

Also also: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rG_tnefyOcc


Started ...

... a new book today. The Stone Gods by Jeanette Winterson.

So far, I'm not too impressed. She herself claims that this is the first time she felt compelled from 'what was in front of her'; the state of the world. That said, I guess that means that the novel is too down too earth for me. Some of her other work has such a beautiful ethereal, floating, surreal quality. So ... beautifully 'other'. I guess that I look to her for my steady influx of the surreal. Dammit, I need my fix.

Plus, she's able to make words sit up and beg and roll over and make 'em do whatever she wants. Miss Winterson is a poet within the realms of the novel. And, this time, I'm just not feeling it, that love for language she usually displays and that great control she has over it. Instead of passion for the word, the novel, the story this is an angry undertaking.

But it has it's heart in the right place. It does want to show us something important. So, you know, what do I know. Hell, the book before this one was the latest Terry Pratchett. Bye-bye literary standards ...

't was a good giggle, though.


Life ...

... can be fascinating, can't it?

I got an e-mail from a former colleague of mine. She still works at that company and it's going to hell in a handbasket so we feel sorry for her. And we're glad we had to leave. However, that does not by a long stretch mean to imply that all things are great were I am at. I finally have confirmation that my dearest colleague is now leaving this room and is going to seek her riches elsewhere. This sort of leaves me holding the short end of the stick as I'll now have all the responsibilities and none of the deeper knowledge needed. An interesting form of screwed, I'd say. Death by promotion. Oh, LeSigh(tm).


This room is sort of void of other people now, so I have turned it into a YouTube day today. Whilst I'm working I get to play DJ to an audience consisting of, well, me. However, that does not make Skyclad, Cruachan, Kampfar, FinnTroll, Korpiklaani and some other bands sound any worse. I'd suggest checking them out. Broaden your horizons. If need be with a pickaxe.

Yesterday, there was this girl in the subway. She had a single star tattooed behind her right ear. This has made me wonder: was there one behind the other one as well? (I hope not, because symetry in this instance would be ugly) and what in the world would persuade one to get a single star tattooed behind your ear?

... oh, well.



While ...

... I'm supposed to be at work I'm, you know, NOT.

I'm ill. Picked up a bug in the pool, I suspect. Just like last time. Only last time it was a nice flesh-eating bacteria. So, you know, I feel lucky. Yesterday added a nice, lovely, migraine attack.

But ...

I got new medicine! Finally, we have reached the opiate state! Yes! It only took something like 10 years of experimenting with bloodthinners, muscle-relaxants and other children's aspirines to get me somewhere comfy, snug, warm and, most importantly, woolly.

Unlucky enough, no hallucinations. But seriously foggy, hell yes. I love drugs. Finally something that works ...

My girlfriend is still sick.

Wait, I never wrote that down. She's sick too. Some bug. Unfortunately, she's not allowed to be sick. The trouble with being indispensable is ... that you are. So, due to some hefty circumstances she's sort of working, poor girl.

That's what you get when you're good at your job. She's impressive, though.



... we have returned. We have learned much about the nature of humanity and its need for seclusion in a swimming paradise. And we are the better for it.

Our holiday in Drente was a succes, as such things go. We locked ourselves up and we swam and we read and we saw movies. And that was all for five days. Lovely. I hope that we are recharged again. Based on current evidence I'd say 'no' however, seeing as both my girl and myself are currently feeling slightly under the weather. Probably something we picked up in the wild water rapids or something. It seems I always bring a bug back from holidays like this. Last time it was a skin eating bacteria.

I think, in retrospect, that I'm lucky, this time around.

It was fun. It does, after a week, become enough, however. The food is mediocre. The surroundings are usually loud. Many people I do not like frequent these places.

But the secluded things are good. And the swimming.

This morning I went into the bath to try to get rid of that damnable chlorine smell from my skin, hence I missed an aikido lesson. I did go to JuJitsu. There I got suitably impressed by Marco and Rene whose skills seem only to have grown. Much to my green-faced envy. Their demonstration did clarify something, however: there are two sorts of techniques they do. One: the ones that make me giggle. these are highly impractical from a self-defence point of view, acrobatic, over-the-top, yet excellently executed. It looks showy and they are. The second are much more interesting but I think that many people miss the excitement in them. These make my jaw hit the floor. Something like an outstretched arm hitting the jaw of an attacker at JUST the right moment in the attacker's downward strike. This requires an amazing amount of timing and is truly ... well, good.

You know.

So, that was good.

Anyway. Soon there will be work again and all this holiday stuff will fade into the background. That is the way of it. But it was fun ...


So ...


Actually, at the time I write this it's sort of tommorow that's her birthday, but such is life. You can't always know when you type stuff. Anyway. It's going to be fun even if it is the last thing I'll do!!!!

Presents will be given. Hands will be shook. Congratulations will be received. One does not become thirty every day ... thank god ....


You ...

... can now rest peacefully, safe in the knowledge that the world is a lot more agreeable and more ... safe.

My girlfriend is now a certified, ehm, helper in emergencies. EHBO certificate. Don't actually know the english equivalent. Sorry.

Anyway, huge congratulations. You've earned it!

In other nice news: Doris Lessing got her nobelprize today in literature. Now, I wrote my thesis on the old biddy, so I have to say that it is quite brilliant to see her so honoured. She's really good, I'd recommend anyone to read some of her work. Read the Four-Gated City. Or the Golden Notebook.

Having said that, I also suspect that this is in some way a prize she got because of her age. I think they chose an old lady over younger contenders figuring that the pups still have time to get it later. And since the prize is never awarded posthumously ...

That, however, in no way detracts from Ms. Lessing's obvious literary qualities.

So, double Hurrah! today.

AND: the House episode I just saw was great!

AND: I'm off work for a week!

Life is great.


Couple ...

... of things.

Is it me or do other people always have better luck than I?

I ran across an ex-colleague of mine. We used to work at the same supermarket. Yeah. I know. However, she was nice. And now she has a bachelor in criminology and a masters in sociology. Good on her, I'd say. But it feels a little ... yukkie that I am in administration. Still. Especially on a day I got chewed out over some mistake I made.

Ah well.

It could have been worse. I could have been in training to join the policeforce.

I was in a train today with a couple of ... idiots who were discussing the relative breast size of all the women in their class. And then they went on to discuss pre-emptive searching for weapons and the sections of the law applicable in those circumstances. One: this has me worried. Two: no small wonder people do not instinctively trust policemen if they're such pubescent children. Children with guns, pepperspray and handcuffs.

Again: I'm worried.


Ik ...

... heb gezocht ... maar niet gevonden.

Maar geef toe: zou het niet fantastisch zijn als er een 'lesbisch' restaurant was dat 'Wat de pot schaft' heette?


Why do humans feel the need to always alter the information provided in elevators? Seriously. I have never been in one where the number of people, the weight the blasted thing can carry, or the date at which it was commissioned or last inspected hasn't been besmirched by some latent comedic genious. Usually grossly overstating the capacity of the contraption thus taking care of comic hyperbole for the day.


Thusly I conclude: graffiti is the lowest form of comedy.


Well ...

... there's actually stuff to do here, now. Amazing. Several days without emptiness. Huh. Of course, this happens at the precise moment that I have damaged my voice (due to dry heaving due to a charming migraine attack on monday), so, you know, answering telephones is sort of torture. or sort of ridiculous, right now. If all goes as it will go (more than a little likely) my dear colleague Louise wil leave the building soon-ish, leaving me to fend for myself. A most daunting prospect, lemme tell ya. Oh well ...

She stood up for me, digitally, and it's very sweet of her. Her guidance and, you know, niceties wil be sorely missed ...


I ...

... just wanted to express my appreciation for the wonderful BBC. I'll tell you why. Aside from all the great programs of course they have a wonderful way of making things look good. Just now there was an anouncement on for a documentary about the history of protestantism. Now, I don't give a flying fuck about protestantism. I don't think I even know any protestants. Or, any protestants I actually like. yet, I wanted to see this documentary. That's how good they manage to sell their programs and that's how good it looks.

So, that's why.

You know ... aside from Dr.Who. QI. Monthy Python. Crufts. Snooker. Red Dwarf. And a million other things.

You know, aside from that.


This ...

... goes out to Fransisco.

Mainly because, you know, he asked for it.

So, I had this, you know, bright idea ... I was going to watch some DS9 here since there is simply dork all to do as per usual. get this: I never even considered, mainly because I'm not geek-a-mundo, that the thingies used here to swallow silver discs are still CD-Rom playas. And not, as I would, you know, like, and even, currently, argueably, need, a DVD playa. So, you know, sucks. And all that trouble for nought. I did, however, carry the DVD here in the CD case of Metallica's ... And Justice For All. Which basically is their angriest record to date (strangely enough, considering their latest offering was called Saint Anger, but I don't make the rules, you know?) so, at least I have a CD here that gels nicely with my current state of mind.

Get ...And Justice For All, though. Good record. Bad production, internal strife, substance abuse and a little too much of everything within the band made it a terrible time for the actual bandmembers. However, this leads to some wonderful music and let's face it: we're all willing to sacrifice a little of the artist's sanity for our listening pleasure.

It's ten oçlock(<= fucked up keyboard). I haven't got a clue how to get through this day. It's worrisome. Now, usually, a day might fly by here, strangely enough, but I thik I'm sort of done for now with all the goodies this computer might have to offer. It's just fucking weird. but people pay me for this and let's face it: I'd rather be here than in Afghanistan.

Something else: I really have to start wearing my discman in trains again. It might save me from overhearing discussions that make me feel old. Was I ever 18 and, you know, STUPID like other people are? Seriously ... I guess what worries people is relevant to age but listening to inane prattle about some girl who might have, somehow, somewhen, told some guy, who wears a cap proudly proclaiming the fact that a judge had him put on probation, allegedly, to have a fight with some other guy (who, in this case, happened to be the speaker) is just enough to make anyone cringe and find an iPod (EgoPeul, denk ik, in het nederlands) to hide inside. I know that this kind of behaviour (the seeking out of a noise machine to hide inside) leads to a lack of communication and a proliferation of isolation but DAMN ... here's a buck. Buy a clue. Until that time, find me currled up with music that sounds as if it wants to kill your mommy.

On the subject of being tough in these conversations with women ... does that ever really work? I had my doubts when I was 18. I always felt that that sort of talk plummets to the depths of stupidity and secretly I suspected women to know this as well. Seriously, do wome fall for the muscle rolling brainless twat who expounds on his heroic stance in the face of another young fucker with even less restraint?

I must be getting old. I have a terrible urge to shout at these kids. Tell them to get of my lawn, or something.

Iets blijer: low-level terrorism. Haal uit al die 'Hoera! Een meisje!' of 'Hoera! Een jongen!' de letter 'A' weg en kijk wat voor puinhoop je creeert in de wereld.

Viva La Revolución!



... my eyes are OK!

Had them checked. Supposedly I have a really thick cornea. But a nice optic nerve. I saw it. It was beautiful.

Besides that, it's weekend. Pretty soon I'll be head admin. for reasons beyond my wish and control. And beyond my explanation, just now. And, oh yeah, it's autumn and there are nice colours. All is good.

If a little confusing.


Further ...

... info concerning the kind of place I work at.

A colleague of mine walked into the door yesterday and got handed a flower, a plastic flower(this is important to the story, trust me) because she travels to her job on public transport.

Very environmentally aware these people here.

Well, she hopped on the elevator and got accosted immediately. The question put to her was: why do you get plastic flowers when real ones are nicer and are not created using environmentally taxing methods.

I thought it funny ...

Also yesterday:

I got offered a 1 year contract with Sargas. It's nice to be appreciated by someone. And for the first time for a longer stretch of time! Yay!

Also also yesterday:

I joined Francisco and my sweet in actual gym exercise. It was funny and fun. All these medieval torture machines that people go on voluntairily. All those big men trying to become even bigger. All these weird metal objects. It's like a room full of installation pieces by various five year olds.

All in all good fun and good exercise and something which I will, maybe, repeat.


Things ...

... to do when bored at work:

Of course, there's this blog. Always the fun. Obviously. Since it's mine. Duh.
Then there's Five And Dae, linky at the bottom, who rule in their own way and who seem to have a severe hang-up about pixelated clothes design. Life can only get stranger from this point onwards.
Then, when I'm alone, I'd like to seek YouTube out in order for there to be some real music for once. Today, there have been entries from Sirenia, Tristania, Rammstein, Nightwish. If my frustration holds I'll end with Cannibal Corpse, or something. You know, harsh. Maybe DeathSpell Omega. (Which is actually a good band, a little brainier than the average Black Metal fare. Alas, it's so black that it really isn't music but more Avant-Garde Art.)
Then, there is DarkFuture. And PopCap. And any other games site there is. But I have a bit of difficulty finding a good one ...
Then there are online comics. Those are cool.
Then there is Wiki.
Then there is some lessons to be taken.
Then there is reading a book.

... in short, I am bored stiff.

The truth of the matter is that there is some discussion about the amount of people needed to maintain our little island of administration. People have come to check out what we do here. So, there were women sitting in chairs looking over the shoulders of the regular 'workforce'. Somehow this struck me as a tinge degrading. these people will turn out some piece of crappy report and on the basis of that descisions will be made. I have a sneeking suspicion that my job shall be axed post 30 november. And then I shall have to leave this isle of comfort and luxury ... or boredom.

Anyway, I sort of like it here, so, you know, I'd not be all too pleased when asked to leave. But I have confidence that I'll soon find another gig.


The image of the TARDIS has become firmly linked to the show in the public's consciousness. In 1996, the BBC applied for a trademark to use the TARDIS' blue police box design in merchandising associated with Doctor Who. In 1998, the Metropolitan Police filed an objection to the trademark claim; in 2002 the Patent Office ruled in favour of the BBC, indicating that the police box image was more associated with Doctor Who than with the police.




... post nr. 100.

It's a milestone, trust me. It means that I have managed to bullshit this much internet space full. And you have to admit, with the internet being such a responsible and well maintained place it's a miracle that people allow such drivel as mine to see the light, let alone waste ugly amounts of electrons. The world, she is an imperfect place.

Thank god.

yesterday I had a day off and we had a marvelous time doing all sorts of stuff that needed doing. It was fun, especially when my girl proclaimed that she was actually having fun whilst shopping in the city, which, for her, is a rare unique occurance which should be commemorated by a small plaque on a HEMA and a short speech by an alderman.

So, I had fun. We also went to see my old school in Bergen, because we felt like it, and i think I managed to make 'someone' jealous. My old school is situated IN a forest, basically. And that is wonderful. Well, at least it was. I was actually sort of happy there.


Anyway. At work now, listening to tales of company outings dramatique. Actually they went to see the insides of the Tuschinski theatre so, you know, I missed out on that. Oh, bugger. But such is life. At least I did not have to participate in the horrendous games and drinking afterwards. I'm bad at those ....


I ...

... was just carefully reminded of the fact that I had forgotten to upload pictures of my coat as remoddeled by my girlfriend. So, you know, we'll do that now.

Because I'm proud of it. And because too few people walk around in them anymore. And, you know, because it's fun. And because my girl did an exceptional job on it and it was not unlike slave labour or monks' jobs ....


Ah ...

... something else. Today, the front page of one of the free papers out here carried a picture of some iranian men who were hanged by the neck until dead for undisclosed crimes 'to improve the safety of Iran'. I think we can easily establish that the death penalty is inhumane and pointless as a deterent against crime. No one has the right to take life from other people. And a state should not be exempt from that.

That's one.

The second is that I found the blatant front picture very shocking ... well, actually, it wasn't the front page, I lied. The front page was a page-sized advert for sloggi underwear. There were loads of arses in it. You turned that page and then you looked at dead muslims. The irony was not lost on.

I do feel that you shouldn't just fling these pictures on the (nearly) front page. It's disrespectful and potential harmful. Previously, some things were just not shown and maybe that wasn't suh a bad idea ...

I am currently reading Executioner: Pierrepoint. That probably has something to do with my feelings as well.

It's a good book, though. Honest. I appreciate that.


At ...

... work, catching up with an old love.

Not a really sweaty one, trust me, because the lady in question doesn't know me, and besides that she has a rather gay love-life.

It is, of course, Jeanette Winterson.

Every once in a while I stumble onto her website, http://www.jeanettewinterson.com, and I marvel at how pretty it is and how relaxing a presence on this here world wide web.

She'll have a new book out soon and I'm bound to read it as I have done (nearly) everything she's put out there since Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit. I admire her language. It's poetry in a prose form and it works really well. I shall not proclaim to understand everything she writes, though I try, but it is a rich experience in language, stories and ideas.

I may not always agree with her, for instance when she writes about Harry Potter or about Disney's Hercules, and I may not even always really like her, when she's particularly preachy (maybe something in her upbringing?), or a bit too smug, or tells us how to live ... but I will say this:

The Woman Can WRITE.

I would urge people to read some of her work. It's worth the 'effort'.


Today ...

... was a new low in my job. I think I will pay for it tomorrow, however, but today ... I just sat there for four and a half hours, did the mail (badly, no doubt) and then I left. Honestly, what the fuck am I doing there. A waste of my very large talents ...

Oh, by the way: http://uss.ytmnd.com/ ... ta, chicko! Sound on, by the way ...

I think we'll take a little commercial break and we'll just mention the band Skyclad. I recently played some of their old albums again and it was a refreshing experience. Musically, it's folk-metal, the first real folk-metal band, in my opinion. Lyrically, it's anger. It's true anger. Martin Walkyier is a gifted word-smith, really in a league all his own. The man has issues and he's not above sharing this with his audience in the hope of improving society at large. Seriously.

I'd strongly recommend anyone who is capable to do so to seek out some of his work. Not from the latest two albums since he was replaced by another vocalist and this one really sucks, basically, and the anger went away ... but anything before that is just exceptional.

In other news, I recently met, shortly, with Ilse Smit (at least ... I assume that's still her name). Now, she was a friend of mine when I was at school. I hadn't seen her in a long, long time and I have to say that it was fun seeing that at least one of the people I knew then is doing very much fine. She sounded very happy. Which made me happy. So, you know, life man, dig it, it was awesome.

Also: why is music never really put together with the arts? I always find it strange that people talk about art and music as if these things have nothing to do with each other ... maybe it's because art conjurs up the image of somethingsolid and touchable ...

And: http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/news/cult/news/drwho/2007/09/03/48473.shtml

*grin* ... Empty Child/The Doctor Dances and The Girl In The Fireplace ... *grin*

"We just make some shit up!"


Have ...

... you ever known what it's like to be a goldfish?

There's an extra lady here in my room at work. Her job is to observe Rita, a fellow inmate, doing her duties. And she's just THERE. All the time. Asking things. And writing things down. It's ... unnerving.

Now, normally I'd feel a little sorry for Rita for being so heavily burdened and plagued. However, she was just rude to me (she told me that she wouldn't discuss something with me, rather forcefully, whilst I was only attempting to express my opinion on some subject. She should be eager to listen to me. It doesn't happen THAT often, you know, that I have an opinion on office matters) and I can't summon a lot of sympathy right now. Actually, right now, I hope the report on her activities wil be short and scathing. I shall have no such luck.

I'm tempted to lock them in a room together. Maybe with some sharp implements ...


Random ...

... thoughts.

All satanists should go to heaven.
Weirdo = square. Or triangle. Or dodehecadron.



I ...

... think I can solve all the world's problems. And we can do that with art.


Yes ... I was thinking about this this morning and really the only thing that prevents me from doing something wrong is that I can imagine the consequences for myself and someone else. Now, if you can imagine what things will be like for some else you can't with good conscience ... see where this is going?

The problem is, of course, that human beings are profoundly stupid. This should not be a huge shock. We have limited imaginations ... so we need art to imagine things for us! That's right! If I can read a novel and learn what it is to be ... say, a penguin, and I can imagine being a penguin then it's unlikely that I ever want to hurt another penguin ever again.

Not that I have until now, don't get me wrong.

So: we need more art! Art that makes all possible forms of human experience clear to all other humans so that nothing bad ever happens again. Unless performed by people who don't read or watch and those people we can simply kill because, in the end, they just stand in the way of paradise.

Okay ... not kill. But severly mock as philistines ... hell, yeah.

On a side note: my girlfriend starts doing eloquent stuff in front of swines again. Yes, she's going back to teaching, you know, that is, like, her job, and stuff. e wish her all the merriment in the world and hard and heavy object to hit the bastards with.

I proposed sneeking her Bokken in her bag so she would have something to hit people with but in the end this was deemed impractical because, well, the bag, well ... wasn't big enough.

Still. I think it was a marvelous idea.

By the way:


Send me money ....


Another edit:

Mainly because I just saw some people positively swoon over pastry and I cannot, as yet, imagine that this would take up so much room in your (working) life as to warrant a substantial detour and some hinting and some questions. Just shoot me when I infuse so much importance into something so useless.

And, by the way, Eliot is great. I won't claim to understand half or even a quarter of what he has written but this is by far the most excellent poem I know.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherised upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—

[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]

It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

And should I then presume?

And how should I begin? . . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep … tired … or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it toward some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,

Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.

That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.


New ...

... car. Not this one but one like it:


Ours is purple. Or black. We can't tell. It's pretty. And pretty fast. And unique ...


So ...

I'm currently at work. It is not surprising, therefore, that I have the time to enter this short piece of prose into the world.

I'm currently listening to Tristania. That is not interesting as such, though fun for me. The interesting thing is that until a few minutes ago was trying to locate people from my old school. For some strange reason felt a sudden urge to search of people which I haven't seen since the early nineties. Honestly, I have no wish to see most of these people again, not ever ... (maybe not all of them but certainly a load of them were utter bastards) ... but I just wanted to know, you know. So, I searched on Hyves which helped me get exactly 0 hits. ZERO!

Is my generation just not interested? Don't we care about the fates of people we spend so much time with in various nefarious enterprises in classrooms and other, more effective halls of learning like the corridors of our monumental school?

In other words: I can't but conclude that all my former classmates failed miserable at life, because they seem unable to even afford a computer. This I take to be totally good news (cf. ll. 7-8). However for the people I did know and liked (Ingrid Klooster, Lonneke Wisman, Conny van Regteren, Diane Korver, Gineke Jansen, Anouk van Hinten ... maybe a few others ... (I don't know)(can't remember)(sorry)) ... I hope for a swift reversal of your possible ill fortunes. Oh ... and get a fucking blog, you lazy people, if you are indeed lazy and not just very poor.

(Seriously ... I seem to have liked women better than men ... not a surprise, really, because women are nicer and when they are growing up they are only utter bastards to their immediate family. Such is the way of the world.)

In other news:

We seem to have escaped death.

I now realise that I should perhaps have opened with that bit of news instead of ranting about images of the forgotten past. Whatever.

There seems to have been a slight problem with the gas and the electricity and all in all things could have gone a bit worse (as in *BOOM* and blackened house worse) but it didn't, so, you know, YAY!

We are now looking forward to having some work done in the kitchen and we are confident that we will not make like a suicide (p)artisan and go *BOOM* in the night.

Life, once again, is good.

In addition: my girlfriend is busy fitting a nice backpatch to my new coat. So there. Thanks.

[edit]: She, and the coat, are done!

I actually wore her coat to work this morning, which is totally possible, because they're totally the same, except, of course, some minor details ... I may have to upload pictures just to show what kind of art my girlfriend made of it.



According to my lady the job is torture and Dimmu Borgir patches suck. They supposedly are like sheet metal to get through ... so, you know, we appreciate the job EVEN more! Wow. Isn't she great?


Hohoho ...

... 'tis the season full of folly.


Right now, my girlfriend is watching Murder On The Orient Express. A movie supposed to be on this evening. However, because Talpa sucked and RTL sucks equally hard and they don't care about quality the movie got pulled. But I found it in the rental place making me happy because I could make my girlfriend happy. Who in turn is making me happy by making a really cool old-school heavy metal jacket with nice patches by nice bands. Which makes me happy. She keeps being needled, however, and that is less fun.

Anyway ... the season of violence has started again. Soon, there will be normal fight lessons and life will be awesome ... I actually want to get to it again. Me gusta fight.


What ho, bitches?

... anyway.

I feel it's imperative to mention that those nice folks over at FiveAndDae (those folks being Five and dae, what shock ...) have been working very hard on the newest and latest version of their communication device that is FiveAndDae. I'd urge anyone to go there. I know that ways to talk to strangers are plentiful these days and never more so than on the intarwubbs but I feel that this is sort of a special plays since people are actually nice.


It was a big shock for me too. There you go, go check it out. Linky at the bottom.

Other than that it's a very slow day at work, again. Yesterday was sort of hectic or I was too sleep deprived to be actually of any use. And I suppose my sense of time was fucked out of commission.

I should really do some art. But I haven't had the chance to gain some supplies as yet ... the other site is sort of wallowing in its misery ...

I think I'll push my girlfriend to go buy stuff. Gives her something to do. Plus, she gets really panicked if I also tell her to buy something pointless ....




In the past couple of days I got new glasses, we went to the zoo and I have trained today. Oh ... and we finally saw happy feet. And Primer.

The new glasses were necessary, but they turn out to be a real challenge. For the first time I have a cylinder put into my glasses and it fucks you over ... but good. As a result I spent an awful lot of time swaying around and being tired when we got to the zoo the day after that. We had me mum and dad with, so it was fun for the whole family. But it was tiring.

Happy Feet is awesome, as everyone already knew ... we are sort of late. Primer is a good thriller. But for the life of me I couldn't tell you what it was about. I'd suggest to you that you go out and find it and then watch it and then be utterly stunned. We turned to eachother towards the end and said, practically in unison ... "What?"

Seriously, THAT good.

... and in training there was this endless discussion about men being gay and spinning bottles around or something. This is what you get when on the road there you listen to some old irish ditty in which the word 'gay' has a completely different meaning. Still ... in Ireland men apparently are gay as long as the bottle goes around. So, time your ...

I won't finish that sentence.


Wow ...

... it's been a while ...

Yesterday was fun. Up to a point, of course. Me dad an' me we went to Deventer to visit the annual bookfair there. Seven kilometers of book throughtout the city. Was a load of fun and we bought some stuff, naturally. I'm pleased to inform you that the Suske&Wiske collection of my girlfriend is finally complete so far as the regular numbers are concerned. And there was much rejoicing. I'd recommend going there if you have the time and the opportunity ... and can read dutch.


Following the events of the day I slumped into a migraine headache so that was a bit less but I got nursed through that in splendid form by my girlfriend. I ruined her plans nicely, so, I'm sorry, darling. But, you know ... I'd have done it differently given the choice.

At this point in time there are several puppets from the Fabeltjeskrant waiting for me. I just like to throw that out there, you know. I don't expect anyone to really gt why that is so much fun to me ...

On another note: whilst waiting here, at work, for something interesting to happen ... which it invariably won't (of course, now that I've typed that, I've jinxed it, so interesting things WILL happen ... unless I've just jinxed that ...) I was cruising YouTube in search of music to annoy people with. And, in so doing I stumbled upon this little gem:


I'd suggest you have a look. It's Katty Melua singing along with the Pogues on 'Fairytale of New York'. several things: Shane McGowan is dead. Nobody told him, however. This mistake must be rectified before he becomes even a bigger parody of himself. Beware of too much alcohol, people. Before you know it you too will be killing of all your old triumphs. Then, there is Miss Melua. This song asks for someone who can sing with real spite and venom and anger and, you know ... that 'Nine Million Bicycles' voice is just too damn sweet. If Miss Melua ever said 'fuck' she'd probably be rinsing out her own mouth with gasoline. At least that's the image she puts forth. Too wholesome. All in all this clip is nefarious in nature and should have remained locked in the vaults. That the audience is cheering this only convinces me of the fact that all audiences are per definition as stupid as its most stupid member and in this case, George W. Bush must have been present.


Anyway ...

... the day before last we were invited to celebrate Franscico's birthday via BBQ. We did. It was nice. For some strange reason they (him, his parents) know how to cook, which is good, and use of a BBQ apperantly has something of a holy aura for them, seeing as they seem to be specialised in it and seem to have turned it into an art. Supposedly they used to eat half the lifestock of western Europe until asked to, you know, go slow, at times and leave some food for the rest of us.

At least, that's the impression one ends up with listening to Franscico.

His parents are nice people. I hadn't met them before and they are very friendly and hospitable. Plus, they have a huge fishpond in their garden. With loads of Koi. Who you can pet. And who come and kiss your hand (see if you have anything edible in your hand, basically). And a sturgeon who thinks he's a dolphin and jumps around a lot. It's a really cool fishy thing there.

So, all in all, a festive evening was had. So good even, that we are going to celebrate his birthday again. Next saturday. So good, we feast it twice.

Maybe he'll grill some meat again ...

Currently I'm at work and while yesterday was pretty impressive, work-wise, and I had stuff to do until at least 2 o'clock in the afternoon [sic] today seems minor league again. Hanging out again and writing stories and doing DF. Oh wellllll ....

I gets paid for it, so it's not all a loss.