Welllllll ...

... this whole queen's day thingy is a bit lost on me.

It's, like, a day, spend on festivities in name of the house of Orange, for those not in the know.

It was a bit tame this year. We suspect that those people who would traditionally get seriously pissed on this day, did so yesterday because the local football team lost the battle for champion of the country. Or something.

It's a complete and utter mystery to me how and why people get to be so invested in royalties and/or football clubs and/or beer. To the point of crying, should something befall one or more of the aforementioned items.

It's just, you know ... stuff. People you don't know. Doing stuff. Somewhere. Which has no bearing on the REAL world, so to speak.

Funny detail: there was one football fan who wanted a week of national mourning because his team lost.

NATIONAL mourning.

I thought it funny ...

Oh, and drinking alcohol and getting drunk should be de-glamourised. It only gets you drunk, gives you a headache and makes you take the wrong desicions, some of which can linger, like babies, ugly bedfellows and/or HIV.

Not much glamour there ...

Also: http://www.blogthings.com/themuppetpersonalitytest


Hey ...

... if you're hardcore does that mean that you have a hard center with a soft outer layer?

I mean, with most candies it's the other way around, right?

... okay, that was random.

Might I to all of you recommend the newest book about Artemis Fowl? I haven't actually read it yet but Suus is reading it and I haven't heard her all day. So, it must be good if it so competely captures the imagination ...

New pics up over on the other site. Clicky linkies!



Evil ... is bad for you.

Thank you.

Now, a little exposee on the intricacies of language.

As some of you know, I invest a little time each day in an online game called DarkFuture (linky at the bottom, knock yourselves out). Now, the level of language is abominal at best but there's one gentleman who just calls up so many questions that it's just not funny anymore.

He called himself VirginKiller.

Now, aside from the obvious rudeness of that name ... what is he trying to say?

a. He kills virgins. Rude, isn't it. Very, even. I think I must protest. It's wrong for people to die as virgins. Honestly, if peole could relax about sex the world would be a better place ... anyway. This is rude.
b. He's never killed before and is, therefore, a virgin killer. Well ... of these there should be more! I mean, I'm proud to say that I'm a virgin killer too, in that sense, and I hope to stay that for a very long time to come ...
c. He's never killed before nor has he ever tasted ... the pleasures of the flesh, shall we say? In that sense he's pretty brave admitting that he has never ever done it with man, woman or beast and his openness deserves a medal. However, I wouldn't really like to broach the subject with him because, you know ... he's also a killer. So, it might end badly for me.

However, should that come to pass, at least I'd be ... a virgin killer. But also not a virgin killer. And definately not a virgin killer!

It's complicated, I have to say ... that's how today's youth rip the fun out of a simple game. To conclude: choose your name with care, ladies and gentleman.

Also: I'm listenng to the DVD Marillion: fishing behind the wall. it's great. It's for die-hard fans only because the visuals are deplorable. I suspect that they have been taped from german television in the late eighties, during an anti-war concert in Berlin. Behind the wall, obviously, which probably didn't help the quality none. But, let's face it, THAT incarnation of Marillion was the best. Sure, later on they did some excellent things too (noteably 'Brave') but Fish is still the man. I think some of their lyrics are pure poetry, meant to be taught at schools. The songs on those first four albums are at times heart rending and really, really good for making you think. Really, catch those early enough and it's totally liberating for the rest of your life.


Up to and including 1995. After that it's ... for the die-hard Marillion fans only, I suspect.

Have fun!

Also: Caldosa, if you read this ... we loooooooove you!


Those ...

... mega-bloggers at Mad As Hell have deigned to take on one of my ruminations and you know ... put it out there ...


I think I did a nice job on that, actually. It's a bit of pride, actually. Check it out ...

My girlfriend has been unjustly treated today. It's always the bloody teachers that get shoved by silly parents.

Oh well ... we'll get her through it!

Have FAITH, darling! I loooooove you!


Let's ...

... talk about The Gilmore Girls.

Yes. It might seem sort of girly.

But since my girlfriend turned me on to this show I have been unable to let it go. It's ... nice. It's a nice show. It's just ... nice. A very friendly show about life in an insane town, with insane people.

The thing is that, strangely enough, all the weird people who roam this town, Kirk, Taylor, Miss Patty, Babbette and Morrey, Luke ... they're all totally believeable. The writers have understood that at the heart of things people like to be happy and people are totally insane and do insane stuff. The writers apparently have totally understood humanity and they deserve a prize of some sort.

I think more programs should be made with such love and care. It's a rarity, I find, these days. Ultimately there's a lot of programs out there that get made for the money. So, thet're basically big commercials used to keep people glued to the TV in order for them to see more commercials and CallGames and Text more for who ever the public thinks is the best celebrity ay ... something. But that's my personal hang-up.

But not The GilMore Girls! Sure, they made a few mistakes (Richard's mother coming back from the dead, Luke's diner moving about town since the first episode, Kirk being called Mick once ...) but it has a heart. And an amazing sense of humour.

So. Watch it, okay?

Plus, I then can talk to you about which man in Lorelai's life was actually the most fun and stuff ...


... or something.

Google can now actually find my little corner of electrons here. Amazing. It couldn't ... and now it can!

I can Google my name! I am so happy!



So, I just came back from training. We had an outdoor training today, since the dojo we usually occupy was used today for something promotional and, I don't know, boring, probably. Nothing good can come of this.
Francisco is a meanie!!!

Outside fighting. Yeah. So, Francesco, our 'leader' decided that today was an excellent day for some free fight training instead of the usual, slightly more reserved, Jiu-Jitsiu training. What it basically means is that with free fight you also get to kick and punch and elbow on the ground.

It's fairly devestating, trust me. I'm slightly shaking right now. And possibly a bit bruised ... but that's all in a day's work. And, to be honest, no one actually left the grounds completely unscathed. Seriously ... I'm limping because I came in unsoft contact with an elbow, two people were bleeding from their lips, one from his nose and everyone is bruised and battered. But, we take it, as silly as it might seem, because I guess this is what we need. For some strange, masochistic, beyond comprehension reason ....

I do wonder however, what the other occupants of those verdant shores were thinking when they saw six people (five guys, one girl) rolling around on the green green grass trying out techniques specifically designed with one goal in mind: hurting your opponent something wicked.
We were next to a children's playground. I wonder whether we were a good example for the ittle 'uns.

The bothering thing however is that I'm a wearer of glasses. This means that in cases of extreme crass violence I take my glasses off. So, I never get a look at the surprised faces of the people walking by.

The other side of this is that I never get to see surprised faces and that I never feel ashamed about what I'm doing. That is a positive thing. In the end it's all performance.

Hey, something else ... can't people be silent anymore? Don't they teach their kids that quiet is nice too? I remember being told by my parents to shut the hell up if I was shouting too loudly outside ... nowadays it seems that people don't do that anymore. Now, I know, I shouldn't be bothered bythat so much, after all, the older you get the worse your hearing is ... but, you know, I'd really not mind people telling their kids to shut it, once in a while ....


No ...

... seriously?!?!

Have you seen Dr.Who?

That new Dalek? How fucking gross was that? Really? Wow ... evolution is so often a dead end and I hope this is one too, soon .... scary fucker ...

However, we must appreciate this, courtesy of the BBC: Sec is the first Dalek ever to wear shoes. This is important and we musn't forget.


Other than that, normal day. Sports, hung with chicko, cooked, ate, saw Dr.Who, saw Men In Thights (masterly), and saw The Llamas.

... really, when you come to think about it, this thing I call a wepre is indeed, as StarDust said, a bit less random. I need to fix that, somehow. because randomness is important! Indeed!

Oh! Oh! Oh!

We received word today that Lucy, a rather fetching young woman from England, who is totally besotted with Spike a rather ... young man from Holland DOES NOT MIND THIS VIDEO SO MUCH: http://www.metalblade.de/videos/amonamarth/runestomymemory.wmv
Usually she listen to BRIT-POP shyte. Arctic wankers. Yuck.
Trust me that's akin to hearing that Gordon Ramsey has quiet days or that Patty Brard really does have a brain.

It's a stunner.

I did mention this video before somewhere, mostly because of the beautiful synchronised headbanging that can be admired here. It's ... awesome. Awe inspiring, even. It made e decide that I want a CD by these vikings.

But then ... I want so many CD's. Donations are, of course, allowed, nay, encouraged!



I just heard something that makes me tickled again about knowing nothing about computers. In the dutch TV show De Wereld Draait Door, there was a lady from this company:
This company provides a deflower service for men above 21 who have never gotten around to, or have never had it in their stars or something, to have sex.

Upon being asked which men come to her service the lady in question answered that they see a high numbe of ICT people requesting their help.

This made me giggle.

I thought I'd share it with you.

By the way, I am tempted to send that company an e-mail with a re-translation of at least their opening page. I mean ... their english sucks ass.

And I am sure that they do not suck ass for free so this is a bit of a surprise.


My girlfriend just read me the news that Stumpie (or something) the four-legged duck ... The FOUR-LEGGED duck (for emphasis) has lost one of his legs and is now reduced to having three and a little stump.

I thought about it and my only conclusion can be that this duck belongs to Odin.

It's Sleippquack.

Well ...

Testing, testing, one, two, one, two ...

Turn it up! Bring it on!!



It seems that order has been restored. I'm amazed myself too. I'd like to thank Spike from this place because it is clear as day that I wouldn't have managed without him. It turns out that it was a simple case of removing everything installed yesterday and since then I seem to be able to have a lag free internet existence.

Several things as a result of this: I feel like a dinosaur because I cannot solve these minor things on my own. The extend that computers are part of our lives really obligates one to be slightly computer-knowledgeable ... whilst I'm, and many with me, am, of course, the computer equivalent of a one handed carpenter: pretty bloody useless when it comes to hammering in those nails.

It also shows the usefulness of direct communication. God ... I can be so happy living in this century. This problem was solved, Spike met Lucy, news is almost instant ... yay, internets!


Well ...

To prove my inaptitude with computers I downloaded some virus killer, spamware fighter, malware destroyer an as a result the fucking thing is now working worse than ever. It actually has lag while I type this. It's behaving like my friggin' phone when I type a text message ... this SUCKS!

Any help would be totally appreciated but all computer savvy people just go like:"Oh, why don't you just install windows again? It's far easier that way ..."

As if.

I have no idea how tenuous this connection has now become, whether it is indeed my doing or another far more fun problem, but I do know this: tomorrow, I'm going to save and remove every picture of worth on this blasted thing.

I may need to stock up on USB sticks. Are those expensive?



Watching a waterfall is a lot like watching a bottle of mineral water. But only people who never ever have seen a waterfall think of that comparison.

There you go!

I just wanted to have that said. It's so rare that people get be all ... you know ... pretentious and stuff.


Several things.

Quick scan of the day: did course work, tried to find tea, got paint, worked on Big Blue, got called a Jew on IRC (which is funny because, you know, they missed by a generation)(see FiveAndDae, below in the links, for a transcript), cooked, had a weird karate lesson (I sweat. That's the good of it), and now I'm here.

There was a school shooting today in America, somewhere. They seem to be all the rage these days. Naturally I do not enjoy that sort of news since, you know, loss of life is never ever good and since my girlfriend works in a school.

But I'm not worried about her safety and I'll tell you why: She works at a small school. It is the nicest school possible, where, if someone is about to go apeshit they'd have spotted that a year in advance. They get to actually KNOW their students. And this is a huge difference, I guess. In a small school, with people you know, you have the opportunity to recognise unwanted behaviour. If there are 3000 students to a school I'm betting that some people will be, shall we say, less noticeable than others.

I think that the powers that be should by now recognise that large schools, large classes are detrimental to the health of your population. Think small, people.

I have had the ... luck ... of experiencing both school systems and I have a clear favourite.

But what do I know? I'm just a good willing amateur with an opinion.

Oh, and I can't help but connect all of this to the news we had yesterday: in the US they spent 174 million dollars in an attempt to get teenagers to not have sex until they are married. This, of course, was fruitless. Or, you know, fruitful. Maybe, if they had spent the money on actually getting to know the people they preached against ...

See where this is heading?


And the Oscar goes to ...

I'm going to go on record now and state this: Midian is one of the most brilliant albums ever made.

I bought it three times. It's THAT good!

I wish that more people would have the decency to investigate the areas of heavier music. I find that it has so much to offer in terms of pleasure and enjoyment and lighthearted fun about, in this case, for instance, death by burning in a church, war on god and insane mass murderers that I'm so happy to share this view with as many people as I possibly can.

The album is Midian, the artists are Cradle Of Filth.

Saw them live twice now. They don't half make your ears bleed. (Seriously, bring some method of safe-guarding your ears along to gigs, people. You'll enjoy it more.) At the end of the concert in the HMH a few years ago (I think they were flogging 'Damnation And A Day') Dani screamed so high, long and loud we were sure that the man had pulled a goddamned muscle somewhere. Especially so because after that scream he threw his microphone away and stomped off stage. Lights on, end of gig. All a bit sudden and therefore very weird.

I sort of assumed that he was in pain after all of that ...
Arc Angel, Dark Angel ...
Great times were had by all, therefore!


Okay ...

... I was up at the crack of dawn (8:30) and had a nice sweet training session ... at 10:30. it went okay, I was in the lucky circumstance that this was a technique training and not an evil, evil, evil, downright EVIL circuit training. Those happen to be evil. Anyway, with all the junk that happened yesterday I wasn't at full strength yet, but I got to kick some ass on the floor, which is good and I survived nearly the whole of the training.

I'm old. I sometimes need my rest, you know, when all the other little freaks keep going. Erik-Maarten is a bitch, trust me.

Unfortunately my loverly girlfriend did not join in the festivities. She strained some, rather necessary, element of her knee yesterday, somewhere in a swordkata. Senseless stuff but it can fuck up your knee something vicious. So, that was no fun and she was sorely missed.

Anyway. More work on big blue afterwards. But, again, I ran out of paint. This fucker really sucks it up like there is no tomorrow. It's logical of course, the background colour is a lot more present. But, oh bother, now I have to go out and get new paint and the whole bloody thing will get delayed AGAIN.
If you can read this you have been highlighting!
For some strange reason ....
There's always the pointy thingies and I did those too ... never a boring moment.


Migraine ...

... hurts.

Just so that we're clear. I was sporting today and towards the end I nearly collapsed from a rather ruthless storm in my head. Apparently I really scared Francisco who was driving me home with my general lack of colour and weirdness and stuff.

That of course was the GOOD part.

Anyway ... A hot shower and some sleep later and I'm here ready to muddle through the remainder of this day. Which includes a brand-new Dr.Who, so, you know, the day is looking up. There will be The Face Of Boo. There will be cat persons. There will be NewNewYork.

Yeah. Migraines hurt.
Read between the lines?
Buy my paintings!!!!
I knew it!!!

I knew that the Doctor was never the last of the time lords. Nah ... never! Such a clever species and then all just vanish in a puff of smoke? Hardly. They just stepped out for a bit, had a smoke and are probably back on track again in the final episodes of the series ...


Hmmm ...

I'm going to post the lyrics to a song that I like, possibly love. Now, posting songs on a wepre is incredibly emo, especially if you continue to state things like:"Oh, this is just as I feel now ... they really KNOW me, you know" ... and I don't do that stuff. Ever. But I love this song. I love the band too, Sirenia.

I'm going to point out some minor discrepancies after the lyrics.

Lithium and a lover.

When all my demons set their sails
and my mind is riding the last train
Down a one-way track to the final station
Destination Devastation

A thousand demons at my door
screaming at my crumbling walls
My river's bleeding, my fields are burning
My world has stopped turning

I wil be your lithium
and I will be your lover

Give me something for my mind
something for the pain inside
A remedy, a cure for life
An elixir for this manica of mine

Give me what I'm deep in need of
a santuary beyond this cruel world
A peerless cure-all to recover
Like lithium and lover...

Having done this I have to say that there are several problems with all of this. The first verse is manic depressive rambling. I can live with that. One issue is in the next verse. "My river's bleeding"? What the hell does that mean, seriously? My river (named after the singer? The river behind his house? A river he bought at the local Rivers-R-Us?) is bleeding? So, aside from the water there is this stream of riverblood (highly diluted, I guess) spouting out of the river at a right angle? Doesn't make sense! The fact that his world has stopped turning means, obviously, that he is a traveller amongst the stars who found a planet, named it, lived there until it suddenly stopped turning. I hate it when that happens.

That does explains what he wants though ... it's probably lonely in space so a lover might be nice ... and lovers do fix a lot of things. The lithium will probably restore balance to the man since when the rotation dropped out of his planet he got stuck at an odd angle or something.

But the main problem is this: if I remember well enough lithium takes away sex drive, right? (I never tried lithium, I don't own a planet). So ... if you ask for lithium AND a lover you are sort of working at cross-purposes, at least concerning the carnal activities associated with 'loving'.

So, I don't really see this working all that well ...

But it's a nice song. And a nice album. I hear they have a new one out and they sort of messed with their style so I'm simultaneously wanting it and dreading it. It's a complex situation.

In the end it will get here at some point ... just help me out finding the space.

Secret message!


And ...

... suddenly it struck me like a ten ton hammer (SON!!! (name that band and song for 10 bonus points)) ...

All good theme tunes of good TV shows are totally unwhistleable. If that is even a word.


Doctor Who. Very difficult to get anywhere near the pitch or the sustain.
X-Files. Again, the pitch is a ...bitch.
House. It doesn't even have a confentional melody, for christ's sake ...
Star Trek:The Next generation. I keep confusing that one with the theme tune of Dallas ... so that is unwhistleable. And unmentionable.
Gilmore Girls. One does not whistle such a noble and distinguished tune. One screams it with joy and glee.

See my point?

Started colouring Big Blue. Hope to finish tomorrow!


I ...

.... biked to Jiu-Jitsiu this evening (I still can't spell it) and I saw a dead heron.

And now a tale shall ensue about how minds work. There might be a moral. If all of you behave at least.

So, a dead heron. I can't remember ever having seen a heron as roadkill. It was sad, because herons are pretty cool. Anything that can sit still for that long is amazing. And it's a pretty bird as well.

Anyway, it got me thinking. And now there follows a bit which will make more sense to dutch readers.

My dad has the habbit of harassing words. He did that at a professional level for years, he was a teacher of the dutch language, and he used to use his skills for entertainment purposes for us wee kids and because, I suspect, reality is sometimes boring and needs a bit of mystery. So, there were 'boskippen' to be gotten from the shops, there were 'pin-guinen' and 'gie-raffes' in the zoo and when you were dirty you went into the 'dauge'. This just to show how I became so weird with language myself. (Ta, dad!). Anyway. In dutch a heron is called a 'reiger' so 'naturally' this became 'reiziger' which sort of translates as 'traveller' making the heron actually a lot more cool than ever you expect. The bird sticks in my mind at least as a sort of proto bird seeing all and going everywhere. This of course reinforced by the fact that the animal indeed seemed to travel everywhere with us ...

That's what I thought when I saw the heron.

the beautiful thing is that the old man is now passing his weird ways on to the kids of my sis. It's quite reassuring to know that the next generation will probably get stung a bit by the same bug as he and I. Some things need to live on.

So. On to the morals of this tale:

a. Always enjoy the strange things your parents do. It's awesome. Try to be as insane. It's good for you.
b. Try to pass that awesomeness on. Good things are worth preserving.
c. Try not to make roadkill out of our friends because it makes me quite sad to see beautiful birds dead.

There you go ...

My girlfriend got me paint. She had to risk live and limbs to go into town but she did it. So, I guess the hole in the canvas shall soon be stoppered. A good thing because it's standing next to me and it's grinning at me like a smile with a tooth missing. Soon, my friends, soon ... pics will be up when I have them, on the other si(d)(t)e as usual.


Progress report, Sir!

Unfortunately I have to work tomorrow. I really feel ... heavy with dread for the coming two days. I'm a bit of a whiner, some people work all week long and me only two days but I'm just so bored with my boring work.

LeSigh (tm).

Today, however, was a very productive day. Worked on ... four paintings. Two 20x20 ones, pointy ones in fact. One research piece (he said, unironically and slightly conceited) to figure out what in the world to do with that blue and white thing (it looks slightly 'Delfts Blauw' right now and that cannot be the look I am going for) and I have been working on a companion piece to the huge, 100x120, one, of which there is a picture on ... The Other Site (you know, the 'photos' one). It's going to be purple and red. Unfortunately ... I ran out of paint. So, I have to return to the scary shop. Oh, bother. But when it's done we'll have two huge canvases (canvasi?) hanging in the living room. Would go a long way to covering an awesome stretch of wall.

Size matters.

Pics, of course, will follow.

As soon as I have time and paint to continue. Thursday, I suspect. Until then the poor little (?) canvas will stand here with a white hole in the middle of a blue sea and white borders. Oh well ....


So, second day of easter, no obligations whatsoever so whilst my loverly lady (whom I mention way too little (apparently)(:))) is working very, very hard indeed, I can get some painting in. Working on a couple of the sharp little paintings and I'm sort of examining what the hell to do with that white and blue thing I made a few days back. Oh, yes, life is hard.

All these things left to investigate.

I think that's mainly the reason why I hate it when people exclaim in an offended voice:'my little nephew can make that, too!'

The point is: the little twat didn't. And he never will. Not ever. Why not? Because the little ferret is as yet incapable of actually investigating and trying out and getting ideas. He can imitate the end result. But he can never imitate the journey to get there.

So after all these years I understand what my teacher was trying to tell me when I was semi-drunk in art class: it's the road not the finished product. And that's inimitable.

So ... screw all stupid people. And let's hope their (possibly imaginery) nephews and nieces and sons and stuff get to grow up better and possible will be able to buy a clue or two.


I hate ...

... the word blog.

After careful consideration between me and my loverly girlfriend we have reached a consensus. The word 'blog' is truly ugly. It sounds heavy, bulky, large, unwieldy and unflattering. It sounds like something you'd call someone of questionable parentage whom you utterly despise.

'You BLOG!'

And then running would ensue. And possibly hiding, fighting and the hurling of heavy objects over large distances in order to do some damage.

I think it's time to think up a new word. It won't help much since I won't be able to adjust the settings of this programme any further than I already have done ... still. A new word.

I'm thinking of 'Wepre'. As in: 'I have to write a new piece in my Wepre.' I think it's a rather elegant contraction of 'Web' and 'Presence'. To be pronounced as french.

Other suggestions are welcome, however.

Oh ... and happy Death And Ressurrection Of Jesus Days.

Carla made a lovely breakfast/brunch for us. Carla is Susanne's mother. And there was much jocularity and throwing of eggs. Good times. Plus, it saved us money so that was good ...

That was a bit cynical, right?

Sorry ...


Hey ...

... here's what I (don't) get taught (often).


Maybe ...

... it's time to post something about what I do on the weekends. Just to get that out of the way. Sort of. So, you know, I can move on.

I fight a lot. And I get beaten up a lot on the weekends. And, get this: ... I paid for it.

Saturday is Aikido and JuiJitsui, which I still can't spell. Sunday is .. let's call it JuiJitsui competition training. Which basically means that I get a lot of destroyed at the hands of a very dear and wonderful friend of mine, Francisco Morales. He's very friendly. Very good cook. Very sweet and social man. Very caring. Wonderful cook, actually. Bit of a dodgy taste in music. And, oh yeah, he beats people into a bloody pulp for fun.

The things we do.

Anyway. He's nice. I feel I learn things. At least I learn how to feel things ... like pain, discomfort, heat, sweat ...

I also take lessons in karate and another JuiJitsui lesson on wednesday. Me's a busy lad, aye.

The only slightly worrying thing is that my partner with whom I have taken my green and blue belt exams is feeling a little under the weather. Or, a lot, actually. This basically means that, currently, I'm not really learning anything new anymore and I'm getting slightly frustrated about that. It's just no fun that way. Oh, and having Vincent breaking my back is not a great deal of fun either. Luckily I just kill him back. Lord knows that he keeps smiling so that's okay.

Oh ... and Aikido on satday I do with my girlfriend! Yay! So, that is absolutely brilliant and fantastic! I like those hours. Ten guys in white pyjamas, my girl by my side and a friend (The aforementionted Francisco) crashed next to the mat, sleeping. He has odd sleep hours that man ... but we love him anyway.

We have to. He'd kill us if we didn't.


Happy (slightly belated) Good Friday!

It's a weird day, isn't it, Good Friday. Aside from the fact that I think that Judas got handed a bad deal (after all he helped bring about the death of Jesus ... and, supposedly, BECAUSE of this the redemption from all sin of all mankind ... so, christians really should thank Judas. Every day.)(Mind you, having your friend tortured sort of evens that out again. Still, there's some issues there that need counselling.)(And now, on a very special Dr.Phil ...) I think it's weird to remember the fact that 'he died and absolved us and is god' ... and forget that's also about a man dying. A mother losing a son. The Matheus Passion does mention this nicely though. So, I listened to that and there are some excellent musical ideas there. I'm not such a big neaderthal as I seem, musically.

I do have to say that I positively hate the Passion Of The Christ. That movie. THAT movie. Mel Gibson is a freak anyway and this overblown excuse for an S and M movie is just too bad to contemplate. We, as a species, sometimes just get intriguied by suffering. Why that is, I just don't know. But there are some limits, I feel. There have to be. You can't just re-imagine the suffering of a man for religious purposes. That just turns the pain and the suffering into a vehicle for your point which is cruel and inhuman. It belittles an experience which I hope no one has to go through ever again. Suffering is not art. Suffering does not tell a story. It might be part of it but to focus solely on it makes it obscene.

But, hey ... that's my feeling. You can do and or watch whatever you want.

Andy Kaufman.

I just saw 'Man On The Moon'. Quite a great picture about performer Andy Kaufman. I recommend it.

Now, I googled him and there seems to be some uncertainty about his death with some people. The interesting thing is that people seem to not get the joke. At all. Two links ...


That is simply the worst single internetpage I have ever seen. And If I undertsand it correctly that is supposed to be ... the worst internetpage one can ever see. It's supposed to be a mess, mainly because it is probably hosted by someone working for a friend of Andy's ... the joke is, of course that this stuff works!


Or ... does it? The movie and the subsequent info I gathered has me so suspicious that I'm thinking that this site too could be part of a rather ellaborate hoax ...

So, years after his alledged death Andy Kaufman still confuses people. Somehow, I think he'd appreciate it.

Or: appreciates it.

I actually think it's a bit of a shame I missed his work.



It occurs to me that I was a bit harsh, peut-etre, about the english department and the diploma one can get there of dutchieland's most famous university. I shall correct this forthwith:

University is a good thing.

There you go.

I decided on going to Leiden (an awful trip away from my homestead) solely on the basis of watching Mrs. Tinkler in action. She is small, grey, of italian decent but SHARP. My god, the woman can think her way out of any literary conundrum. Plus, she's extremely likeable. She rocks, hands down.

She did the introduction for people looking for a school and it was brilliant. Years later she became the lady who guided me through the difficult straits of thesis. I was just that taken with her.

So, that was a good thing. The thesis was fun to do. Some of the subjects weren't half bad. A load of the books were great. (Though I still can't enjoy everything. If I don't like a book I don't finish it so I have the utmost admiration for people who read everything, like ... my Girlfriend!) And in the end, I finished university, had fun, and got some skills and stuff. It ain't all bad, people.

I once gave a professor of mine a bottle of Irish Whisky. I have never seen a man so bemused and obviously unable to deal with the fact that someone was actually nice to him. Killed with kindness, he was ....


Soon it will be upon us.


Well, the new Susanne Vega album. Just so you know. These days she works with Blue Note, the famous Jazz label, so I am so interested to know what happened to her music. Her previous one , Songs In Red And Gray, was excellent too. Well worth checking out. And buying. It's, like, her first and only (we hope) official divorce album. Heavy stuff at times, but lord is it gorgeous.


Oh ... and my girlfriend thinks it's time that I acknowledge her presence in my life. Again. On here.

Oh, LeSigh(tm).

Seriously, she's really good. I'd recommend her, but I'e got the only specimen and I'm not willing to part with her. She's THAT good, yeah.



I have some. Two days in the week I ship myself of to Andijk.

Google THAT, huh?

I shuffle paper around.

That's it.

I get severly controlled all the way whilst trying to make headway into the underbelly that is municipal government. In short, I'm cleaning up the mess while Anton is looking over my shoulder, decides that everything must be different because he'd do it differently (obviously, this is not an exact science and I throw way more shit out than he'll ever can manage(honestly, I think he's got some genetic flaw where he's incapable of ditching stuff. He'll live in a small house with loads and loads of newspapers soon ...)).

And all this ... AND I have a degree in english lit. So, let that be a lesson, folks. Study something useless, get a useless job.

But I'm such a good reader now ... I analyse literature for fun!

And the job keeps me in paint! Yay! Which, right now, is all that really matters ...

Thanks to the people who came along and had a look at the things I put up ... love you all!


What's in a name?

Now, I just had an epiphany.


Google it, okay?

I just assumed that any and all people to stumble upon this thing here would actually know where the name BeoPuppy comes from. Stupid me ...


Younger version ... BeoPuppy.

Technically I think it should have been BeoCub, I think wolves have cubs, but, let's face it: there's nothing more cute than a warm puppy. So, BeoPuppy it was. Maybe I will one day grow into the big wolf version of me. However I do hope that I can skip the bloody language then because it's unreadable, trust me. I have had to translate bits in the past and believe me ... it's a braincruncher. http://www.humanities.mcmaster.ca/~beowulf/. That site has the text in original and modern versions. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough.

I always wanted to type that.

So ...

I opened another blog. http://beofauxto.blogspot.com/

I hope to ditch any and all photos there so that this one stays relatively empty of photographic material. It seemed a good idea at the time.

Of course that was before I struggled with Blogger once again. I'm SUCH an anti-geek. I'm a geek's kryptonyte.


हिदिंग इन हिंदी.

Now of course I wish that my first post was a bit more fitting a beginning. Beginnings are special.

I could have edited it. But that is cheating. Those are the rules. No re-does. So, no glowing words, no opening statements, no 'I have a dream' ...

I do, however have a button that allows me to type in Hindi. No idea why.

सो, सिंस ई हवे इत, ई मिघ्त अस वेल्ल अबुसे थे क्रेप आउट ऑफ़ इत। इत लूकस फुन्न्य ओं थे पगे, डॉन'त यू थिंक?

2 and we're off!

.... right.

So, that first post was actually just something I had to put up there to figure out, you know, where all the bits actually go. I'm not overly computer-savvy, dig? For instance: I have a devil of a time getting this computer to accept the fact that I really WANT to type in a nice salmon colour. It obviously disagrees with me since it has already tried to disrupt that twice. Whether it does that on aesthetic grounds or out of sheer malevolance I do not know ... and there's a good chance that I don't want to find out.

The thing is, the thing is, the thing is ... I started this thing mainly out of ... frustration. Those who know me, a little, are aware that I have a tendency to fill pages and pages and pages of Dark-Future profile (see linkies down below) with utter drivel and nonsense.

In short: I blog(ged) on DF.

But it's a game. And one at which I'm not particularly good, as such. So, I get killed a lot. My profile goes in the dustbin, it's a real mess, yuk. The problem is that I sort of liked the attention and the comments and the whole deal. In the end humans are big audience seekers. Attention-whores, the lot of us. (And the text just reverted back to black, LeSigh (tm)).

So, I figured I'd start doing this for reals, likes.

So, welcome. I hope to entertain. Maybe learn to ... open up, a bit more. Talk to people. Get a sympathetic ear ...

Are you my mommy?


I have never done this before ... and I have to admit that I'm slightly nervous ...