Thirsty

The sounds of now

2010-09-07T23:43:00.004+02:00

The rain is slaying the city, and knocks on my bedroom window like a winter tree branch in a cheesy thriller movie, only softer and faster, like the purple haze of stars this space pod pierces through. There is no sound in space, because there is no air. I am inside, the lights still on. I will never see myself lying in bed, here in this bedroom, here in this apartment, here in this building. The only way I will ever see myself is in the mirror or on pictures. I will never really see myself. There's a plane in the air. I can hear it, so I know it's not in space. Because there is no sound in space. It could also not be a plane. It could be a giant speaker faraway mimicking the sound of a plane in the air. It could also be a small speaker nearby mimicking the sound of a plane in the air. I am inside, the lights still on, while the rain is slaying the city. This city is on a planet, in a galaxy, in space, where there is no sound. The tap is leaking, I can tell. It's like the rain hitting my bedroom window, only softer and slower, like an orgasm on weed. I don't see the tap actually leaking, like I don't see the plane actually flying. I will never really see myself, only this purple haze of stars in space where there is no sound.

Period is but a dot.

2010-08-28T03:01:00.000+02:00

Edmond Chen

2010-08-26T00:40:00.003+02:00

The first time I met Edmond Chen, he was sitting on a box of something. It said something in Chinese. Sorry to say, I can't read Chinese, and I certainly couldn't at the time either. He was devouring an apple like a hungry stray kid, the juice dripping all over his lips. Those big, big bites sounded like a sword fight in the crisp snow. He was a small man, but looked strong, like an old tree. The wrinkles on his face were perfectly symmetrical. I don't usually notice these things, but maybe wrinkles aren't supposed to be symmetrical and we're all used to seeing awry wrinkles. Or maybe it was simply the glare of his face. With every apple bite, those glimmering Nazca Lines reshuffled their geometry like rrrusshh, rrrusshh, fountain firework. Edmond Chen didn't need no holy aureola to radiate, because I knew from that very first moment: this man is special. From a distance, he looked like any other middle-aged Chinese trucker to come through town. Only he was different, he was a mountain of charisma. He smiled like the Mona Lisa would have wanted to smile, and he spoke solely through his squinting little eyes. Edmond Chen never said a word, he didn't need to. He had a straight line to soulworld, yours, mine, your great aunt's, that guy that crossed the street this morning, everyone's. I don't think I've ever seen him mad. Mad of joy, oh yes! Whenever he was happy, he would summon all the humans around him by simply clapping his hands and slapping his knees, elbows, feet, forehead, chest, you name it. The man was an almost human drum kit. Every slap, every hit would thunder throughout the entire town, animals would run away and hide, while people would gather around to stand in awe and laugh deliriously, their teeth sparkling in the sun. Rocks would come crushing down and paint would come off walls, kids would start dancing like madmen and pregnant women would suddenly go into labor, rain clouds would disperse and our hearts would love love love. Edmond Chen was pure ecstasy, he was the Dragon and the Angel alike, he was a dear friend.

Things change

2010-08-24T21:03:00.006+02:00

Everybody wore hats back then.
Like my granddad still does, when he's not taking care of my grandmother.
He'll be wearing his hat a lot more soon.

Awaiting His Majesty

2010-08-21T19:56:00.001+02:00

- Sint-Pietersplein, Gent

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.4

I am sorry

2010-08-21T01:31:00.004+02:00

I am a commitment phobic, a little boy that sleeps with a teddy bear and pulls the sheets all over his head. To escape towards the stars seeping through the fabric, far far away. To bathe in the Pleiades, with the pleiades. To forever close the eyes and see the stars, seeping through the skin, so so close. Like the stranger's lips, far away and yet so close. I am a commitment phobic and I have hurt so many so as not to get hurt.

It's time for me to go back, to find myself through the rubble of broken hearts - bread crumbs, back to when I really was a little boy that slept with a teddy bear and pulled the sheets all over his head.

I need to know where this comes from.
Maybe that is what the Breadcrumb Crater is all about.

Feather

2010-02-05T00:16:00.003+01:00

The world felt light like a feather tonight. No five layers of fabric to keep us warm, a sweater and a jacket sufficed. How light the jacket felt! Like a feather light. Even the buildings, their tons of layers of bricks glued together with the sweat of thousands of workmen long gone, were but tiny pixels in this azure ocean of miniature trampolines and kissing lip corners, teeth peeks and sweet saliva. A bird was singing on this first day people were talking spring. Still faraway, but a dot on the horizon, is the day skirts will touch the saddles and ice cream vendors will end their hibernation. A magnificently shining dot where we will wrap ourselves in each other, be birds and kiss like a feather light. Sweet saliva, sweet world.

I don't have to make the climb

2009-08-06T01:22:00.004+02:00

Got home yesterday night, switched on the tv looking for something subtitled to watch while brushing my teeth and saw this:

This is just a small excerpt from the awe-inspiring 1970 documentary Woodstock, and somehow stands in sharp contrast to the rest of the film in the sense that here we have a young couple not necessarily wanting to be part of the action, dissecting from a distance not only the festival but their own generation almost like philosophers watching over the masses. Theirs is a lost generation, as the young man puts it, imprisoned by the urge to be free. Rather than a genuine state of mind that can be attained as much by squatting alongside a country road as by switching the batteries of your camera in a skyscraper elevator, freedom had become a conceptual goal that could only be reached through the well-defined channels of drugs, music, Eastern spirituality, free love and what have you.

Woodstock wasn't the proclaimed gateway to nirvana. It ended in the mud and fatigue, with junk and debris of untraceable origins scattered all across the field. It looked like a battlefield swamped with indefinable ‘stuff’ and here and there a human body crawling without any apparent sense of direction. Yet another lost generation had reached its culmination, there on the muddy fields of Bethel, NY. The proverbial bang they went out with: the roaring howl of Jimi Hendrix’ guitar.

On the other hand, it sure looked like one hell of a party, and graced the world with imagery of which even Hollywood wouldn’t be capable of, and yes, perhaps in essence every generation is lost, anxiously looking for a common denominator that connects & bonds us all in the comforting warmth of borderless unity, a global herd, although probably in the end

(...) everybody's looking for some kind of answer, where there isn't one.

Heart-shaped

2009-08-05T01:59:00.002+02:00

In my world, invisibly walled, she was wearing something red. I couldn't clearly point out what it was exactly, but it was something red. A classic heart-shaped earring maybe, with even maybe a matching heart-patterned dress. But no, that would be too much. Too fifties-diner-style, drinking a milkshake, no matter what kind, as long as it is pink, on the way to a drive-in cinema, where night fills lungs. I'm playing the air guitar to an old tune and I see the bar tender looking at me, thinking "he's got it", while an hour ago I was just plain sober and he was just plain bar tender. Now, however, we share a connection, one that can only last as long as I'm in the bar. Only difference is that he probably knew her for real.

Today's visionary parade

2008-03-16T22:19:00.002+01:00

Today's visionary parade of words and images, bits and pieces of nothingness, details that matter, kids that draw outside of the lines, crushed beer cans aside the pavement and the flickering letter of a neon billboard dream portraying plastic androids, emotional wellbeing advocated on an incorrectly spelled piece of paper in the mailbox, keys ringing and chiming before the keyhole is found, a lover watching moonlight from the wooden kitchen floor, a cockroach hidden behind the washing machine, all brilliantly polished in domestic CGI, paradoxic nonsense covered with fur, sweet n soft and straight from the caramel ice cream vending machine, can you hear its noise, it's like a mother giving birth, such sweetness about to appear, about to be consumed, eaten by this world's giant belly. I'm exploding.

Welcome to Breadcrumb Crater

2008-03-12T23:29:00.003+01:00

Welcome to Breadcrumb Crater, established in 1999, the wooden sign said. It was placed right between the two largest oak trees of the forest in such a perfectly symmetrical way that you wouldn't be surprised if someone were to tell you the trees were planted right next to the sign. But then again, the sign said 1999 and these trees looked like they had been there for ages already. For all we know, they could've been planted hundreds of years ago by two native American love birds as a token of their never ending, undying and unconditional love. At least that's what I liked to believe when I first put my backpack down against the trunk of the largest oak tree. Wouldn't it be nice in an ironic kind of way if this had been the one the girl had planted, I wondered. Quite typical of me actually, to start dwelling in my own auto-generated thoughts and swing a boomerang right into the usual stream of consciousness which should have been directed at the goal of my journey, but at this particular moment it obviously wasn't. Maybe it was because I had already walked such a long way, with my eyes and feet pointing towards this sign, the next intermediary stop. I had reached that stop now, overwhelmed with joy, relief and most of all a strange kind of exhilarating tiredness. The kind that keeps you up at night to talk and talk because you know before dawn you will kiss her, and you know that this talking only builds up the tension even more. Sure, you're tired. Sure, she's tired. But you're both immersed in this great energy streaming passed your every vain, like a non-stop rollercoaster after closing hours with the lights out. That's how I felt. The air was fresh & healthy in a non-hippie kind of way: straight in your face unbreakable. My eyes meandered along the contours of the tree crowns until they reached the circle's starting point again. My dizzy head needed a cigarette. I tried to blow the smoke through the imaginary circle I had just drawn with my eyes, but gave up quickly and threw myself against my heavy backpack.

(to be continued)

Outside

2008-03-11T20:49:00.004+01:00

It came back to me today when I was mindlessly browsing through one of those women's magazines: a rather hip 'n trendy lingerie designer posing under a cobblestone bridge by day. It wasn't so much the picture that brought it back, it was the notion that at least two people (the designer and the photographer) had to be standing there, by day.

It brought me back to those days in high school when we rarely got to see the world outside the school walls. Actually, there were low-maintenance pine trees in front of the walls. Cover-up nature. But whenever we did get the chance to go outside during school hours, I was jealous of all those people and their freedom to go and walk about, do their thing on the street, simply be part of the city. The same envy sometimes overwhelms me when I see journalists on tv waiting at the steps of some court house or a guarded gate. Inner city jobs are different; sure you'll hate the rain and bus delays and buses that -in all their haste not to be delayed- rush through puddles along the pavement, but you'll come across scraps of paper, roof top poetry and people you'd never see in OfficeVille.

Maybe tomorrow I'll deviate from the daily A > B and back > A route, to recalculate.

Drown me

2008-03-09T06:32:00.001+01:00

- opening from Millennium Mambo (Hou Hsiao-hsien)

Today's truths

2008-03-07T22:58:00.001+01:00

The christmas tree loses its needles and sometimes the heart does things because of reasons reason cannot grasp.

Headphone universe

2008-03-06T23:35:00.003+01:00

A lot of people on the street with headphones on today. Not that they weren't there yesterday or the day before, but because I was one of them. It's like when I was a kid, I really wanted a Lego space train, and all of a sudden I began seeing hundreds of references to the Lego space train all around me, as if the world was telling me get your parents to buy this for you. Or even more concrete perhaps, when my parents had just bought a new car, we noticed a lot of people driving around with the same car. It's like the tentacles that spring from within your brain become more receptive towards certain specific impulses. Or maybe it's vice versa even: it's our brain that echoes outward ripples. Maybe it's a little bit of both? I guess that's why Freud saw phallic shapes in all kinds of man-made artifacts. Behold, the awesome powers of the self-fulfilling prophecy. Just like headphones immerse your mind & body into your own private universe and leave you happy and drowning. We're all wandering about in the same streets, we're all seated in the same train, but the state we're in is so unique that the outside world is nothing more than the background curtain of our own drama. Maybe tilting the camera way up and zooming out, we could see reality as it is: people as tiny moving dots, cores of circularly radiating waves, and in between the void, the objective void paved with streets and traffic signs.

Corporate life and the hours that remain

2008-03-06T00:56:00.002+01:00

Matter has tightened its grip on me; my boss has requested a company car and I'm probably getting a considerable pay raise some time next month. From a future mother-in-law's point of view, this is a good thing. But along with it side-effects have also started to arise at the surface, like a Moon-sect gathering of frog eggs: they are all married to each other but the overall fertility rate is questionable. Being a part of a 9-to-5-but-most-of-the-time-6-or-7-corporate apparatus has numbed my tentacles that used to pop up every time the space time continuum would bend its boundaries in a giant gasp. It would yawn in all its privileged majesty and switch sides in bed, opening up the funnel through which words, images and thoughts of various weights and colors could tumble down and find peace (or war) throughout the nervous channels of my brain. Now those vessels are filled with words you can only hear in the metropolitan business districts. Luckily, I still don't know what they mean.

I'm sure the antidote is still there somehow, I just need to find you.

Wind

2007-07-06T01:34:00.000+02:00

I can hear the wind roar outside, even twenty years later now.
Wind child, they called me, because I would go out in the middle of a storm -eye for an eye- barefoot, just to shout with my eyes closed and arms spread wide open to welcome the divine play and take me with it. With every breath I felt stronger, with every roar I grew larger and larger. As if God herself was licking my being, sucking out my soul to put hers in place. Oh yes, the wind is my religion; and my rabbits are my saints!

Twentysomething

2006-09-25T14:42:00.000+02:00

We all graduated, some of us even graduated a couple of times.

Some of us ended up becoming eternal students - enter cereals for breakfast, the one-man-desk-life & peer reviews.
Others started earning money, big money - enter coffee mugs in the morning jam, the two-cell-phone-life & hors d'oeuvres.
Some became working men - enter plastic lunch box, the two-boots-life & longing for the cigarette break.

Exit the shared past of soccer matches during lunch break and the lingering brilliance of a vast potential waiting to become.

Is it just me or am I the only twentysomething that is still waiting along with it?

(picture taken from Elephant by Gus Van Sant)

twentysomething, potential, talents

The Falling Man (2)

2006-09-13T10:06:00.000+02:00

I recently found out that the infamous picture of the Falling Man was part of a series, in which it becomes completely obvious that there is no 'zen' to this man whatsoever. You can see him struggling, tumbling in open air. This man is in pain. He isn't some monk. This man isn't some symbol of will power at all.

What he is a symbol of, is our limited perception on things, our blind urge for ideas and ideals. We want him to be that monk so badly. We want him to be our beacon in times of despair. We want to be strong, and raise our heads in the face of death and terror.

How we love to say "Wow" instead "Ow".
How remote we are, from him, the truth and ourselves.

falling, man, fallingman, picture, 9/11

The Falling Man

2006-09-11T11:13:00.000+02:00

From Esquire:

Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else—something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom.

(via)

Dropping knowledge

2006-08-22T23:14:00.000+02:00

A global dialogue of free voices. Can we live the utopia? DroppingKnowledge believes we can. Spread the word.

droppingknowledge, droppingknowledge

The Shower

2006-08-21T23:48:00.000+02:00

I was taking a shower, brushing my teeth and maybe even peeing (depends on how politically correct you are) at the same time when all of a sudden the tub shattered into dozens of pieces, the floor beneath my feet collapsed, sucking me and everything else that surrounded my wet body, all covered with tooth paste, down. Down to the lower floor where a gorgeous woman was eating her morning cereals; strawberry on top. The sun shone through her glass of milk. I could see vast green plains, while the fresh mountain breeze lit up the mint on my lips. The woman was almost completely naked, wore nothing other than black panties. Nothing fancy, nothing Christina Aguilera, no. Just black, just fabric and the mountain breezes that keeps the oxygen flowing. I looked at her, she smiled back.

I'm back!

2006-06-23T13:38:00.000+02:00

After almost six months of absence, this post is almost like a visit to the attic, or a peek at old pictures of times long gone. Alienation, recognition, curiosity, nostalgia,..are a few of the nouns that come to mind: building blocks for a customized sentence yearning to be formed in your head. Whatever the sentence, whatever its syntax, its meaning will undoubtedly be true.

Here I am, on my 26th birthday, fulfilled with the very human and therefore somewhat cute belief that this day marks the beginning of a new phase in life. Although in reality this day is no different than yesterday or tomorrow, I cling to this institutionalised momentum to convince myself of its truthfulness. And while these words and thoughts are almost martially forced onto my current state of mind, I feel their power gradually building up inside me. They march through my veins, fill me with energy. Believing = wanting to believe. Aaaah, the good old battle between reality and idealism. It most definitely is one of my life's themes.

On a sidenote: I've been active as a blogger in Dutch though: DORST.

I'll be back.

There is a God

2006-01-17T23:52:00.000+01:00

Today I found proof that God exists. Not sure what kind of God, but that there is a God, is beyond any question. The story goes as follows: the morning of Tuesday January 17th, a man is driving his car on a small deserted street alongside a deep and wide open canal somewhere in the south of Belgium. For some reason, not entirely clear to investigators yet, he and his car end up in the canal. The car starts sinking, the man starts drowning.

At that time, a van with 6 divers coming from a totally different part of the country is driving on a small deserted street alongside a deep and wide open canal. They are completely lost, and are looking on the map to figure out their whereabouts. passes by. All of a sudden, they see the car, stop instantly, take their gear and rescue the man.

Coincidence, some might say.
Possible.
I'd call it the God of Coincidence.

god, fate, coincidence

Daniel Barenboim

2006-01-13T00:38:00.000+01:00

Daniel Barenboim was in town - and on the news. First time I ever heard of this genius pianist and conductor, but the small news item was enough to convince me that this man needs to be listened to. That goes as much for his musical virtuosity, as for his statements on intercultural exchange, identity, peace, and the Palestinian conflict in particular. A few quotes:

On the Isreali-Palestinian situation:

Accept the fact it is not one people only that has a special relationship with this part of the world, there are two people. And that this part of the world is very small. Therefore the destinies of the two people are inextricably linked.

On his Western-Eastern Divan:

The West-Eastern Divan first of all provides a forum for young Israelis and young Arabs to be able to tell their narrative in front of the enemy and to hear the enemy tell his narrative, having also shown that they have something in common, which is the passion for music. It's not more than this.

On cultural identity:

I'm a Jew, I'm an Israeli, I'm also Spanish, and I'm Argentinian, and I'm a musician. I have many identities, and I think it's wonderful.

It sure is.

For more wise words, check out Barenboim's online journal.

Daniel, Barenboim, cultural, identity, israel, palestine, palestinian, exchange, music, peace

Sun Kil Moon

2006-01-09T22:22:00.000+01:00

Remember José González? As in José "Sony Bravia" González. No? Listen to this this 3(s)0 second audio clip. Like it? Then you'll love Sun Kil Moon. I warmly recommend their Ghosts of the Great Highway.

SunKilMoon

LOST

2006-01-09T22:10:00.000+01:00

Lost (aka the John Locke-show) is in the middle of its second season already, and by god, nail clipper manufacturers will most definitely see a dropback in their annual sales. What-the-f*ck-moments galore & the plot keeps on thickening. Paranoid conspiracy theories come to life like goosebumps after a Siberian shower and domestically, purchases of fake liana and "Sounds of the Ocean" CDs are skyrocketing. Hear the boar grunt in my meditation-mudbath! On my way Charlie!

Or as Carl Gustav Jung put it somewhat more cryptically:

"Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain."

Search and ye shall find.

Lost, JohnLocke, HansoFoundation

You Are Beautiful

2005-12-26T18:11:00.000+01:00

Urban Text Messaging. Love this one.

Christmas 2005

2005-12-26T15:11:00.000+01:00

Christmas just isn't what it used to be. The butterflies that once reigned my tummy when dressing up real nicely for the family feast couldn't handle the arctic tempest that is adulthood. Instead of gifts, I get money. Instead of snow, I see cotton balls. Maybe it's because ever since I got back from Japan, I've been living with my parents again, ripped away from the set currents of time that are supposed to bring me independence and freedom. My daily life = underlined Comic Sans MS, behaviour patterns of an encaged tiger, travels of a cockroach. How I long to set sail again! I'd blow the wind myself. Faraway from routine and the comfort of mediocrity, off to self-fulfilment. Maybe then Christmas would feel like kissing again.

Christmas

To Seiji Kozawa aka Mr. Spam

2005-12-11T14:01:00.000+01:00

Almost daily, I receive news from you. Almost daily, I delete your comments. I've left one open for other people to read here. I have no desire to tolerate your pseudo-communist propaganda. It's boring, bad English. Maybe it would be time for you to go outside, take a walk through the mountains, be among real people. Your mind is troubled and doesn't see things clearly. Forget everything you believe in, forget everything you've ever written and start living.

Nipponkan

2005-12-05T21:39:00.000+01:00

Andreas and I started a new web-project called Nipponkan - a Vitamine C blend of Japan related links found at del.icio.us, Digg and Flickr. Squish'em & drink'em.

Opera 8.5

2005-12-02T22:46:00.000+01:00

Yes, goodbye to Firefox and Thunderbird, hello Opera. Reasons for this policy shift are numerous, but the main ones would be the fact that mail client and browser are integrated in one window, and the lack of major bugs of the likes I kept on struggling with during my already faraway Firefox days. I was a bit skeptic at first because of the alledged lack of tweakability in Opera. Yet, on the contrary, most bookmarklets also work in Opera and this Opera Browser Wiki and especially its tools listing is most definitely an infinite source of surfing pleasure.

Opera, browser

Sony Bravia

2005-12-02T22:26:00.000+01:00

Wow. Wow, wow, wow. Andreas sent me this link ages ago, but after switching from Firefox to Opera, watching quicktime movies is no longer a hazardous happening. But, wow, wow, wow. This TV-commercial is just utter beauty. To quote Bravia's viral website:

Sending 250,000 multi-coloured 'superballs' bouncing down the streets of San Francisco may seem the strangest way to do this, but that's exactly what Danish director Nicolai Fuglsig did for the BRAVIA commercial in July this year.

But what really elevates this ad to almost unknown heights is José González' voice and acoustic guitar. A 3(s)0 second audio fragment can be downloaded at the same site, or directly via this link.

Wow, wow, wow.

sony, bravia, JoseGonzalez, Fuglsig

Flickr-update

2005-11-29T09:36:00.000+01:00

Shoes in the mirror
Originally uploaded by Yptucide.

Uploaded some new -yet already outdated- pics to my Flickr-account. Scanned at a low dpi-quality, and photographically speaking not that interesting, except for maybe this "Shoes in the mirror", my absolute favourite.

Tokyo Art Beat T-shirts

2005-11-21T11:28:00.000+01:00

I've been involved with Tokyo Art Beat for a couple of months now, mainly helping them out with translating. Here's a chance for you to support them: buy TAB tees designed by five popular designers. Check it out!

TokyoArtBeat, Tshirt

Owl in the Chimney

2005-11-14T21:59:00.000+01:00

My dad and I found an owl, stuck in the chimney yesterday. We managed to pull it down, set it free. I could feel the wind from under its feathered wings, I had to close my eyes. It whispered freedom. And night fell.

(Current Last.Fm tag: icelandic)

freedom

How to make a bomb

2005-11-01T01:29:00.000+01:00

[how to make a bomb]
To all of you who came here via a search engine:
if you are serious about making a bomb, think of your mother bleeding to death.
[/how to make a bomb]

Magazine covers

2005-10-18T15:52:00.000+02:00

The American Society of Magazine Editors has announced what they consider to be the best magazine covers of the past 40 years. You can view them here. My personal favorite is the October 1966 issue of Esquire. The minimalist design draws absolute attention to one simple yet shocking quote : "Oh my God, we hit a little girl." This is also the title of John Sack's piece on the infantry company he had been following from their training at Fort Dix to the battleground in Vietnam.

magazine, cover, Esquire, JohnSack

Jackpot

2005-10-13T23:29:00.000+02:00

Growing up is realizing the inevitable banality of mankind. When I was a kid and heard people talk about politics, the stock market and all those other things I had no clue as to what those grown-ups were talking about, I marvelled at the complexity of their words. Now I realize that's just what they were: words. Take for instance the stock market: a lot of complicated fiscal and financial mechanisms are the thorns of a rose called 'sentiment'; blind belief, suspicion, fear, greed, proud,...What do 200 pages of graphs prove? That you should hire this broker, and not the other. Believe what you want to believe. As the sophists in ancient Greek pointed out, truth is what people think is true. The truth is what you perceive the truth to be. We are all monkeys keeping ourselves busy with our petty yet somewhat funny games. My family's pet rabbits are my saints from now on. They embody my truth, hell, they embody THE truth.

The European Constitution

2005-10-10T16:59:00.000+02:00

Journalists describe it as a prank, an absolute failure. Historians see it as a valuable experiment: the European Constitution. I haven't read all of it yet, but I would like to share these first paragraphs with you.

DRAWING INSPIRATION from the cultural, religious and humanist inheritance of Europe, from which have developed the universal values of the inviolable and inalienable rights of the human person, freedom, democracy, equality and the rule of law,

BELIEVING that Europe, reunited after bitter experiences, intends to continue along the path of civilisation, progress and prosperity, for the good of all its inhabitants, including the weakest and most deprived; that it wishes to remain a continent open to culture, learning and social progress; and that it wishes to deepen the democratic and transparent nature of its public life, and to strive for peace, justice and solidarity throughout the world,

CONVINCED that, while remaining proud of their own national identities and history, the peoples of Europe are determined to transcend their former divisions and, united ever more closely, to forge a common destiny,

CONVINCED that, thus "United in diversity", Europe offers them the best chance of pursuing, with due regard for the rights of each individual and in awareness of their responsibilities towards future generations and the Earth, the great venture which makes of it a special area of human hope,

DETERMINED to continue the work accomplished within the framework of the Treaties establishing the European Communities and the Treaty on European Union, by ensuring the continuity of the Community acquis...

Wonderful, noble words. Too bad almost nobody in Europe has ever read this. The gap between the European people, who don't consider themselves to be European at all actually, and the Ivory Tower in Brussels is too wide for these words to be taken seriously. This might sound as if it is coming from a platonic demagogue, but direct education is what the world needs. An ethic reveil is what I am waiting for; one that -just like this constitution- aims at propagating unity through diversity.

unity, Europe, constitution, utopia

Back in the USB (United States of Belgium)

2005-10-10T16:50:00.000+02:00

This is to be my first Belgian post in a very long time. Yes, I have returned to my heimat. It strikes me that whereas for the people I have said goodbye to back in Japan, the distance between them and me is much more a distance in time, than it is in space. The contrary can be said for my own personal perception on the matter. Maybe that's because the ones who I left behind, obviously still remain where they were = Japan. Losing track of the thread here? Never mind. Just consider this post as yet another contemplation on the time-vs-space battle.

Yet Another Test Test Test

2005-09-26T10:33:00.000+02:00

Psychology test, this time: the Jung / Myer-Briggs test. My profile was INFJ (pdf).

MyerBriggs, pyschologytest

Politics test

2005-09-26T02:56:00.000+02:00

Did a politics test at OkCupid! (?), and here are the results:

You are a
Social Liberal
(70% permissive)

and an...
Economic Liberal
(25% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Democrat
Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid

Last.fm

2005-09-22T09:48:00.000+02:00

Andreas pointed this one out to me: Last.fm, an online radio system, based on your own musical preferences, and in cooperation with Audioscrobbler. Wanna know more? Read this.
--my last.fm profile--

last.fm

Japanese photography

2005-09-20T12:43:00.000+02:00

There is a world beyond the urban dwelling of big names like Nobuyoshi Araki and Daido Moriyama. I have introduced Rinko Kawauchi before, and Rika Noguchi is also pretty big over here, but I recently -too late- discovered these two: Tomoko Yoneda and Naoki Ishikawa. Behold! Also, check out Banri, interesting guy whom I met about a year ago, and spent a yakiniku-and-late-night-doing-nothing-session with. I am grateful, mister Banri.

daido, moriyama, araki, rinko, kawauchi, tomoko, yoneda, naoki, ishikawa, rika, noguchi, banri, photography, japanese

[To myself]

2005-09-18T08:12:00.000+02:00

Believe.
That you can make the wind blow.
That it was written.
That every hunch is a guideline.
That every thought is one too much.
Believe you are the wind,
you and me.

Hurricane Katrina

2005-09-12T18:57:00.000+02:00

Stupid quotes about hurricane Katrina (about.com) - A Letter to All Who Voted for George W. Bush from Michael Moore (www.michaelmoore.com)- Bush knew (www.dailykos.com) - When government fails (economist.com)

Friday

2005-09-11T16:11:00.000+02:00

Friday is an autumn breeze, the sunshine at 5.30 pm. It is a fresh hotelroom, a shower before dinner, and the smile on your face. Friday is like Saturday, and Sunday. It is the eternity that awaits us.

friday

Tokyo Yamanote-line Fortunetelling

2005-09-04T22:38:00.000+02:00

I've known this website (only in Japanese, sorry) for a while, but it was recently brought to my attention again by Japanese blogs Kissui.net and Paradox (has undergone some changes / cannot find the link back): 山手線占い. Remarkably accurate, if I may say so myself. But maybe that's because it's quite complimentary. My station would be Uguisudani, implying straightforwardness, individuality, love for freedom, and originality. Hmmm, why do I feel my ego is about to burst out of my skin? For those who are interested but can't read Japanese, give me your birthdate and I'll make a quick translation - if I can find the time of course. ;-)

Update: some other interesting / funny ones (in Japanese) are Philosopher's Fortunetelling (I was Lacan), and especially Japanese History Fortunetelling (I was Kukai).

DemocracyNow.org

2005-09-04T20:27:00.000+02:00

Amidst stamps of official negation - BOOM - and hollow words recycled via monitored channels - Krrr krrr - , DemocracyNow.org is like a midget kid kicking a giant's shin - Pong pong. But big up to the little fellow! (daily news feed available - realplayer stream)

democracynow

Mind query

2005-09-02T06:39:00.000+02:00

For those who were wondering what I've been and still am up to lately, check the list below.

Enter the keywords: eighties - elections - goodbyes - biorhythm - post office - money - international money transfers - travel - television - Star Wars - Gamecube - holidays - internet - porn - advertising - graduation - cereals - mess - Day of the Jackal - cell phone - Belgian news.

Ciao!

Testing testing, one two

2005-08-24T10:22:00.000+02:00

Testing Blogger’s latest tool: writing a post in Word and actually publishing it without having to open your browser! Hmm, what was my original standard font again?

the GOD within (II)

2005-07-28T18:43:00.000+02:00

That which surrounds us, also pervades us. We, ourselves, are as much an expression of our own essential core as we are an expression of our environment. And our environment expresses itself through us. Our surroundings are a nexus to us, as much as we are nodal points to our surroundings. The question to be asked, however, does not only concern the extent of those surroundings, but also its definition. If by surroundings (environment) is meant the physical and socio-cultural surroundings, the above statement shines in all its justness; the only reason why I am not a muslim is because I wasn't born in a muslim country. But where does this environment end, and where does a new one begin? Do we actually know?

We have created words such as 'country', we have built entire systems -both tangible and mental- on language, thus propagating antigony, dichotomy, this and that, but also one-unity-all. I wonder what came first: 'this-that', or 'all'? Doesn't 'all' immediately imply 'this-plus-that'? I'm guessing the concept of distinction consequently gave birth to 'similarity'. Versus the mother gave birth to Plus, son as well as daughter. Let us long for Plus' matricide! Lines, categories, limits, borders, drawers, definitions,...in the end we should all burn them, drown them, because they are the tools of our own mental architecture. We have created them, and they have created us according to the laws of chain and snow ball. This is how we became. This is how I became this and that, this is how I am being perceived by my surroundings. This is how I perceive my surroundings. We are very much so molded by our surroundings and tend to vaporize, into zillions of thits and thats, bouncing within its confinements.

Parallel with the last post, allow me to take a look at another TED speech. Here's an excerpt from Rev Tom Honey's speech:

How would one deepen such a faith? By seeking the inwardness which is in all things. In music and poetry, in the natural world of beauty, in the small ordinary things of life, there is a deep indwelling presence that makes them extraordinary. But it needs a profound attentiveness, and a patient waiting. A contemplative attitude, an awareness of my own infinite value, and a generosity and openness to those whose experience is different from mine.

Two main themes can be distilled from the above: inwardness and openness. I believe both are one and the same; that which surrounds us also pervades us. There is no such thing as an essential core, there is no such thing as surroundings. There is just. Thus I am All and All is I, and so are You. This is what it means to scribble outside the lines.

the GOD within (I)

2005-07-21T04:51:00.000+02:00

Yet another comment on what was said at TED global, but this time I would like to make a rather unusual connection between two of the speakers: the aforementioned Richard Dawkins, and Rev Tom Honey. In this post, I shall reflect on what Dawkins said. The connection with Honey will be made in the forthcoming post. (sounds rather conceited, doesn't it? - pity me)

Dawkins explains the human mind's limitations, as stated in this BBC News article:

"Our brains had evolved to help us survive within the scale and orders of magnitude within which we exist, said Professor Dawkins. We think that rocks and crystals are solid when in fact they were made up mostly of spaces in between atoms, he argued. This, he said, was just the way our brains thought about things in order to help us navigate our "middle sized" world - the medium scale environment - a world in which we cannot see individual atoms."

In other words, what we think is solid and well-defined, is actually made up of space; nothingness in between tiny little dots. The void is as much a part of everything as its tangibility. This goes for all matter, including us human beings. But as an example, let us think of a straight line that pierces through the sky for instance. The line in a very similar way not only needs that sky, is also consists of it, within its own boundaries. The sky is necessary for it to be (to exist) in two ways. Firstly, it is a means of highlighting the line, functioning as a supporting background; without the sky, the line cannot be seen. Secondly, the sky also pervades the line itself. It doesn't stop at the border, it has infiltrated within. The line is a filter.

This second view is the hardest one for us to grasp. Even my ways of explaining it denote a certain subject-centeredness, as though the sky had distorted the balance of line-versus-sky. The truth is though that they both need each other; there is no absolute dichotomy between subject and object. Existence is a form of mutual (or even multilateral) communication.

Maybe we should stop telling our kids to draw inside the lines. It is what happens when the pencil crosses the lines that we become what we are: gateways. Scribble night and day away!

What is reality?

2005-07-12T17:00:00.000+02:00

Interesting post on WorldChanging, apparently taken from Richard Dawkins' speech at TED, 　a website worth checking out by the way. Reality is relative, because of our limited perception of it: our reality is not that of a mole's. Our brain is a tool for survival, and therefore we need to know only what we need to know. So it is said.

--In other words, reality as an object is only defined by what we, the subject, perceive it to be. Reality's relativity is therefore based on the variableness of the subject. The subject becomes its criterion?--

So, Dawkins continues, to get a better grasp of actual reality, we should expand our imagination.

--I'm having trouble with the notion of an actual reality. In case reality is relative, is the notion of an actual reality possible outside of our cognitive framework? I wonder, isn't that imagination born within that same limitation? Is there actually room for growth and expansion? Or should we instead consider imagination as some gateway to go beyond our own boundaries? Or, in other words: is there hope?--

richard, dawkins, ted, reality

London blasts and "this world we live in"

2005-07-07T17:33:00.000+02:00

London
Originally uploaded by Yptucide.

I believe this prtscr from one of Belgium's most -distinguished- newspapers' online website is a shocking example of the manifold daily reality this world is whirlpooled in. On the right, one can read how "London is preparing itself for an improvised party" while Blair is smiling triumphantly in front of the Olympic five rings, representing the union of the five continents. On the left, Blair's facial expression literally changed over night. Chaos in London, due to a lack of union amongst the five continents. In the meantime, Britney's doctor has told her not to have sex any more because it might damage her pregnancy. She wants too much bilateral union.

May our thoughts go out to:

-the victims of today's terrorist attacks
-the victims of any terrorist attacks
-any victims
-and Britney

london, terrorism, media, britney

Eros (Wong - Soderbergh - Antonioni)

2005-07-06T17:39:00.000+02:00

This tripartite film was something I had been looking forward to for a long time. Just by hearing the word Eros in connection with the names Steven Soderbergh and Wong Kar Wai (I had never heard of Michelangelo Antiononi before), I envisioned extreme close-ups of sweat-skin twinkling in the morning sun, moments of doubled silence afterwards, waiting for the coffee machine to finish, and maybe even a turquoise skirt covering the camera lens. I was wrong.

While I've always been a fan of Wong Kar Wai's bittersweet poetry, but his contribution "The Hand" seemed to be a repetition of In the Mood for Love and 2046. Nothing bad about that of course, but as I said, the man has a tendency to repeat himself. I feel it is time to break your own tradition, Mr. Wong.

Moving on to Soderbergh, I truly enjoyed his interpretation of the "eros" theme as something in between dream and reality, a yearning as much as it is a frustration. Soderbergh definitely outmatches his colleagues here.

But oh my god, Michelangelo Antonioni's version looked as if it was made by a banned priest, trying to rediscover not only his earthly roots as a first year's film student, but also his penis.

My final judgment: take Soderbergh's wit, Luisa Ranieri's body, and Wong's photography. But whatever you do, do not use Antonioni's dialogues!!

Eros, WongKarWai, Soderbergh, Antonioni

"I saw God, and she's black."

2005-07-05T01:28:00.000+02:00

"The images of God have a far more powerful effect upon our emotions than our ideas. And when people read the (b)ible, and sing hymns; Ancient of Days who sittest throned in glory, Immortal, Invisible God only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes...We've still got that fellow up there, with a beard on. It's way in the back of the emotions. And so, we should think first of all, in contrary imagery. And the contrary imagery is: she's black." -- Alan Watts.

Birth-daze

2005-06-23T17:26:00.000+02:00

A quarter of a century has passed, since that lightning struck and shook me awake. I am on the verge of closing an important chapter in my life: study. Only problem is, the next chapter has been torn out, hidden somewhere. For me to find. For me to grow.

Daily Choco

2005-06-18T14:33:00.000+02:00

Please be so kind as to pay Choco's flog a visit from time to time. I didn't feel all to keen on making his life public, since he's always been quite tacit and shy. There's a certain sadness to his pics, actually...You might think I'm bs'ing right now, especially if you've already seen his photos, but for some odd reason I feel I am dishonouring him. So, this possibly being a short term project, all the more reason to go and have a look.

Thirsty's "musical baton"

2005-06-16T06:06:00.000+02:00

Andreas just passed his musical baton on to me. It's basically a self-introductory blog post, based on ye good ole chain-letter principle. This is my contribution:

Total volume of music files on computer: 13.2 Gb (a lot of stuff's on disc)
Last CD I bought: Dedicated to All Believers - 10 Years Kanzleramt
Song playing right now: Four Tet - "Glue of the world" from their album Pause
Five songs (albums in my case)I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me :

Two people I'm passing the baton to: Gert and Stoffie.

Yup! Oh and by the way, I was sitting on the toilet yesterday night, when I suddenly discovered there was no toilet paper left.

Flogs

2005-06-14T14:52:00.000+02:00

I've decided to no longer upload pictures to my fotolog-account, due to the simple fact that because of extremely weak servers on their side, even just accessing the page has become impossible. Instead, I'm using Flickr now. Farewell to fotolog, marry-me to Flickr!

Little creatures

2005-06-03T19:16:00.000+02:00

Of course, we are all small, meaningless creatures within the larger scale of the cosmos. But having just picked my nose, I discovered even smaller creatures, who I subsequently catapulted into the void by use of thumb and index finger. How cruel this world is...

Goodbye

2005-05-29T18:50:00.000+02:00

Goodbye, you. Listen to the CD please.

Twin Peaks

2005-05-28T07:50:00.000+02:00

For some reason, this week has been themed "love and the inability to". I see glimpses of pure warmth, wide pupils and shut eyes. People are moaning for a walking stick. Blindly they slide their fingers over the walls. Don't break your finger nails! There it is, in the corner, that point of rest. Grab it! To regain strength, to stand alone. Energy lines that split them in two, but above all, that unbearable heat. To unite.

Pain

2005-05-22T17:21:00.000+02:00

And so, I met her again. The only woman I ever loved. Meeting is rather an exaggeration. I saw her. And she saw me. Right at the time she was talking to the guy that took my place. She fled. And so, I avoided her, the only woman I ever loved. Pain more so than anger.

Sound

2005-05-13T02:41:00.000+02:00

Suppose/imagine: you are on your way to work. And you are about to get out of your car. Listen. What do you hear?

Nothing special.

Now record that sound.
Convert it to an mp3-format file.

Listen again.

Make a resolution.

Bizzy daze

2005-05-10T04:51:00.000+02:00

Yep, reading sutras and Chinese works on Amida's Pure Land now.
(interesting huh...)

Saw The Parallax View, a highly visual conspiracy by Alan J. Pakula, yesterday though. One of my favorites!

Alan Watts

2005-04-29T07:13:00.000+02:00

Summer is gradually filling the air in Japan, and with that also the deadline for my master's dissertation. No time for love, no time for sleeping late, or taking pictures while aimlessly strawling around downtown Osaka. Time for study and academic bliss. In the meanwhile, Four Tet has been replaced by recorded lectures of Alan Watts. Japanese Buddhist history on my laptop, Eastern Philosophy in my ears. Time is an illusion.

alanwatts

Anti-Japanese sentiments in China

2005-04-17T08:01:00.000+02:00

This is probably going to be my first political post since Thirsty came to life, but maybe this will help Thirsty to slowly become an adult. Any non-nihilist will agree with me that education is by far one of the most important factors in self-realization and that therefore it should be treated with the utmost caution and dedication.

Just like the Japanese were taught that their emperor was a god during the first half of the 20th century, Japanese kids are now supposed to be taught that that was a load of extremely dangerous bs. However, some apparently believe that this kind of domestic masochism is no longer needed for the economic empire that is Japan. New textbooks intended to be used in junior high schools have been published in an attempt to minimalize Japan's war atrocities. The Nanjing massacre, where thousands were brutally murdered, women received their Last Rites in the form of Japanese sperm and a bullet to finish it off and babies were caressed with spears through their bodies or received free swimming lessons in boiling water, is now called the 'Nanjing Incident'.

[Tip: type in the words 'Nanking' and 'massacre' @ google.jp and click on the first hit. ]

Ok, my words are quite tendencious, but so are theirs. It makes me sick when I see seventy year old politicians on television babbling about how "beautiful Japan is" and how they "don't understand why people don't realize this". Um, well, hello?

Of course, the agitation in China also has a domestic side to it, the fastest growing economy on the planet has left many people out and the gap between those on the high-speed train and those who have suffered to build it, is still widening. Some people even predict a civil war within the next ten years. That the current protests are a way of releasing some of this tension by ways of directing it at a common enemy, as some people say, could be quite true, but that is not for me to judge.

What I do know, is that conservative nationalism hasn't been wiped out yet, on the contrary, if the Japanese Ministry of Education gave its 'yay' to these new (old) views, I can only conclude that something is rotten in the state of Japan. And it's starting to smell. As BBC's William Horsley says: "But on this trip to Japan I could not avoid the conclusion that a new mood of nationalism has also begun to take hold in this country which has been publicly devoted to peace and economic prosperity for so long." Indeed, tis true.

Don't get me wrong, I really do love this country and I am grateful to be here. A lot can be learned from it, but maybe it should also learn from itself.

Physical silence = vibration ?

2005-04-12T05:46:00.000+02:00

It was pointed out to me yesterday that the world (= reality?) might consist of 11 dimensions. This should be provable with a theory called M-theory, which is a refinement of a number of string-theories. Basically, these say that the smallest parts of reality aren't just dots, but strings. And as this website also explains: "The subatomic particles we see in nature are nothing more than different resonances of the vibrating superstrings, in the same way that different musical notes emanate from the different modes of vibration of a violin string."

For some reason, I have always thought of silence and absolute stagnation as invisible vibration. I have talked about these things before, but even the previous post can be seen from that light I guess. What is at rest, merely looks at rest, it bears greater vibrational energy (= its potential) than moving matter (= causality). The silence before the storm is more powerful than the storm itself.

m-theory, string-theory, energy, vibration

Potentiality in between A and B

2005-04-10T10:18:00.000+02:00

While the cherry blossoms are in full bloom and anticyclonic tendencies slightly jazz up the national hormone level, beneath the trees are seated one-day-in-the-week nuclear families, consuming.

Everything we do in life is a form of consumption I guess. And in a sense, consumption is a form of recycling. Like burning petrol can make your car drive, watching a porn movie can make your hands move. Life, this world, is all about triggering, causing, connecting, relaying, executing, consecuting, expressing and consuming. (I realize this statement doesn't surpass the level of cheap hollywood philosophy, most likely to be uttered by some advertising agent through his nokia cell phone in a porsche convertible, but allow me to continue this monologue, most likely only to be read by a maximum of ten people.)

Cause-and-consequence is the basic formula for any fact and/or existence. I think this and therefore I think that. We have sex and therefore you are pregnant. Or at least, there is a possibility or -even better- potential for it.

It is because we have sex, you can get pregnant.

That is why we cannot speak of because A is the cause, therefore B is the consequence, with A being the cause and B being the consequence.

It is not because we have sex that you are pregnant. No, you are pregnant because we have sex.

Because B is the consequence, therefore A is the cause.

I know, I know, this sounds like extreme gibberish and linguistically I suppose there isn't any problem whatsoever. But what I would like to point out here is the following: we fear and/or dream of future consequences, we think of past causes. We have sex and fear aids (or dream of a baby), but we think of who might have infected us. We don't fear or dream of what has already been, and we don't really rationally think of what is to come, because it is unknown, although we of course try our very best to. The present is the frontline of both, swallowed by the future, smashed under the weight of the past.

Yesterday, when I was invited to join one of those cherry-blossom-consuming families, I cherished the potential. I dreamt of a happy consequence. And so did everyone else. We started consuming alchohol. They started consuming too much alcohol. Their children saw how their parents were turning into a drunken, loud bunch of impolite creatures. I didn't have a good time. And I know the cause. Just like when these kids will be traumatised adults, the cause will be thought of. But for now, we can only hope they haven't been traumatised. Although we fear they will be. For now, I can only hope for the best.

The neutrality of potential is both unbearable as well as thankful. It is up to us to either positivize*, negativize* or maintain the neutrality of this potential (by merely doing nothing). Either way, it is consumption of the potential. By consuming the potential, by acting upon it, we create the link between the past cause and the future consequence. Funny thing is: potential is not part of the past, and it is not part of the future. It is now. Only in the present there is potential.

*these terms imply a certain morality in all actions and facts, but the concrete content of this morality is solely depending on the consumer's reading of the potential

Nietzsche

2005-03-29T05:11:00.000+02:00

An empty stomach, five cigarettes, lack of sleep, a turbulent mind and Nuovo Cinema Paradiso have made me decide to desert Nietzsche for a while. If the Ubermensch can't cry, I don't want to meet him. If life is about desperately trying to be strong, then I say weakness is strength. There is a saying in Japanese, 柳の枝に雪折れなし (litt. the branches of a willow don't break under the weight of snow), which basically means as much as in yielding is strength. Oh so true.

Come and go

2005-03-18T13:16:00.000+01:00

We enter this world crying, leaving our mothers in exhaustion.

We leave this world in exhaustion, leaving our children crying.

From [OoooOOoooOOOoooooooO...ow...] to [Krrrroookkkroookkrr....oo]

2005-03-15T16:24:00.001+01:00

[Yes, I am back]

OoooOOoooOOOoooooooO...ow...

It's been a while, I feel like I just rediscovered the attic. Problem is, it's filled with stuff I for some reason don't feel that attached to anymore. There's a certain distance between myself and whatever I have written underneath the dust. Maybe it's time for the annual (in my case bi-monthly) spring-cleanup. But for now, I'll close this door and focus on more urgent matters such as hunting down my lost TV remote.

Krrrroookkkroookkrr....oo

[...]

Career in advertising?

2005-01-26T12:34:00.000+01:00

I finally decided where and how I would like to spend the next few years: as a tv commercial planner in Japan. Boom. Bang.

The success rate is quite low, because of the simple fact that I am a foreigner in this country and my Japanese level might be not high enough to actually dive in to the business world without drowning. But I want to give it a go.

I have given this great thought, spent months doubting, trying to lay out my options; work in a bar and save money to travel, become a writer, start my own trade company, study film, win the lottery...The mere variety of these options made me realize that I need to keep dreaming on the one hand, but also on the other hand I need to keep my feet firmly on the ground . I think tv ad designer is far out the best combination of all.

"Please, hire me!!!"

Boom bang. Over and out.

A probe up your nose in bits and pieces

2005-01-23T10:27:00.000+01:00

"You're a really nosy guy. You should stop probing into other people's lives."

But that's, I believe, what I have come to do here on this planet: probe. As a man, I was born to probe women, both physically and mentally. As a human being, I was born to probe my surroundings. Maybe the whole reason why I live, is because there is an environment I actually am able to live in. And maybe the whole reason why the world exists, is because I (we) need an environment where I (we) can live. Zero-thinking, re-flux, baby.

Let's hop around in a circle and smile at the camera.

But as I said, I was born to probe. To be nosy, to incessantly investigate my surroundings. Out of pure necessity though. An extremely wary person, I find it hard to belief in something beautiful and pure. I do not believe in it. Oh yes, I have built Utopia with my bare hands, but for some reason there isn't even one insurance company willing to help me secure its future.

You know, back in the old days, people would say: "Don't cry, the camera's rolling." Now they say: "Oh come on, cry! The camera's rolling!".

The thing is, though, although it kills me probing deeper and deeper into something which is by definition completely uncertain and is merely based on whatever I have gotten into my head, simplicity would also kill me. Do we really want to know the truth? Colgate white and fluffy clouds. Zero-thinking, re-flux, baby.

Utopia, I still believe.

Someone, once said near the end of his life:

"My whole life I have been looking for the answer. Now, finally, I have found it, but I forgot the question."

Fragments of jealousy

2005-01-21T10:02:00.000+01:00

I see her naked body, being infiltrated by his flesh.
Outside though, the city is burning, a raging crowd assembles amidst the flames:
their open mouths, screaming out silence, because only her moaning can be heard.
Her hands hopelessly trying to regrip the void, where I used to be.
Their sex is an act of pyromania.

Curse you both, for being so free.

Ten days

2005-01-21T08:55:00.000+01:00

It's been ten days. Ten days of climbing, falling, crawling, crying, flying, dying, reviving, shining. No need to go into this any further though. Because time is like sand on a child's chalk drawing.

Check out Max Richter: melancholic indies-electronica on piano.

Change?

2005-01-08T23:03:00.000+01:00

Met you again.

My grandfather's watch died, just like he did last fall.

Jetlag.

Happy New Tsunami

2005-01-05T11:56:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow, I'll be back on a plane, complaining about the narrow cell that is my window-side-seat, opening plastic packaging to get to my plastic fork, watching movies on an extremely colour-unbalanced miniature television screen and last but not least resist the urge to fondle myself out of pure boredom. But all these discommodities are mere luxury problems and are in no way to be compared with the devastation and despair in South-East Asia. Misere nobis for complaining about lack of airplane luxury.

Back in Belgium

2004-12-23T18:49:00.000+01:00

Back in ye good ole rainy Belgium to celebrate Christmas and the New Year with family and friends. It doesn't feel like I have been away for such a long time, the only thing that's really changed is the death of my friend. I have no desire to talk about it right here and now, because these things shouldn't be put in words. I'll go to his grave and talk to him in person, somewhere floating on the chilly European winds.

It feels good being back. Already gave grandma a big hug, talked to our bird, played with my sister. This truly is "home". But that still doesn't make it my place to spend my life. My mom termed this "bizarre way of thinking" an adolescent yearning for exotism, some form of escapism. She could be right, but I'm much more confronted with reality back in Japan than over here. Being in Japan hasn't always been a good thing for me, mentally nor emotionally, but it feels like a necessity. I have learned so much more in Japan, not only about the world, but also about myself. There is something that has guided me to Japan and I'm still following it. Like that bright shining star that guided the three kings to Jezus. Now, all I have to find is someone to join me in this seemingly neverending journey. (A queen to make our own little Jezus would be nice...) ;-)

Anyways, I'm off to the south of France tomorrow for about a week without a phone, without any internet connection, so Merry Christmas!!!

Another Re-Invigorate check

2004-12-19T08:50:00.000+01:00

Re-Invigorate info

referrers:

Yahoo search "reasons for feeling very thirsty"
Yahoo search "fotolog japanese breasts"
Ask Jeeves search "auditive sense"
Ask Jeeves search "body count in Iraq"

Me versus my generation

2004-12-13T13:55:00.000+01:00

Interesting comment from a friend on my last post stating that I might have projected my own doubts and insecurity onto the whole of my generation. Fair enough. That actually crossed my mind yesterday and I guess it's true. One always sees one's world from the very narrow point of view originating within the boundaries of the self.

But on the other hand, I am a child of my own generation, and I do sense a certain lack of direction in today's world. But maybe that has always been the case.

But \ maybe \ on the other hand \

I could go on and talk about the postmodernist aching due to the lack of a dominating world view, with Christianity's failure to unite even just the Western worldviews. There are no real certainties left, and that's something I sincerely believe. People need some kind of ideological guidance, maybe people need to be called Generation [something], to be identified with. People need something to believe in, something which is right. Information is abundant, but so is even contradictory information. We know so many things, about so many places and yet we don't know its true essence.

...

Maybe she was right, maybe this is just me talking.

But it is just that: responses like "That's just you saying that." actually denote everything I tried to explain. The truth doesn't go beyond the individual. Then, what is true? I sincerely believe we don't know anymore. Ironically enough.

Oh, and another thing: this is one the major reasons why I expect the islam is going to grow at an enormous speed. Just because it is one of the last, if not the only, all-encompassing world views left on this planet.

How's that for a fragmentary, postmodern post? ;-)

Generation I for Irony

2004-12-12T10:01:00.000+01:00

I believe my generation, probably people who are in their twenties now, are part of what I would call Generation I, as in Irony. The reason why I started thinking like this is actually pretty meaningless (which is already ironic), but like a war can start with a dispute between two individuals and a tree starts off as a tiny seed, that one flash moment was of extreme importance. As if what I'm saying here, is such a big deal...

Anyways, I went out clubbing last night: booze, sweat, empty wallets, loud beats and...visuals. They were showing some footage of an eighties guy singing his song in his shiny suit. People look at it and think: funny. But also in an odd way: funny ergo cool. That's the whole reason why the VJs used that footage. And so, it made me think about the "spirit of this time". Back in the 1960s and 70s, we had the dreaming hippies, in the 1980s we had the yuppie thing going on, then so-called Generation X came along, supposedly being more critical than ever, but not knowing where to go with it.

I believe we are part of Generation I, because although we are continuing the critical stance of our X-predecessors, we embrace our criticism and put it into perspective, eventually smiling at the world, although I sense some bitterness and maybe even arrogance in it. Recycling and re-inventing are today's hot words, but the same should be said of uncertainty and doubt. It is this doubting of what is to come that makes us mash up the past, and look at it with a ironic smile. I believe we are longing for a better future, but sense things aren't changing. We are not ready yet for a new phase.

The Wall

2004-12-10T20:05:00.000+01:00

I just had an interesting - yet drunk - conversation with a buddy from Finland. It probably was more of a monologue, but it made me realize something very significant about myself.

I believe everyone, every single human being on this planet has a wall, to protect what's inside the fortress. It is the pure essence, afraid, full of doubts and hidden from the ones that pass by.

Most people have a few people they can at least open that wall to, talk about their emotions and maybe even be able to cry when that person is around. I, on the other hand, can talk to anybody about what's happening behind the fortress walls. I rationalize, conceive it using language and communicate. Like a newspaper from the USSR, it jumps over the Berlin Wall and enters the so-called free world. I must be the biggest publishing company, because I communicate a lot, to anybody. No boundaries there.

However, rather than the rationalised jumping over the wall, actually emotionally breaking that wall in order for someone from the outside to enter inside the fortress and see that glowing part...I just can't. It's not that I don't want to, though. It just goes beyond all my powers.

I hide myself underneath the letters of my newspaper, as dry as possible, so that coincidental tears would not blur the message.

A perfect cold war is being fought between the outside and the inner side. Maybe it's time for a Cultural Revolution, time to burn all books, all written resources, in order to break that Wall.

Engrave

2004-12-07T17:05:00.000+01:00

Yes, I deleted the last post. It was just too crazy. Basically, I don't consider this blog as a means of communication, at least not in the first place. The most important reason for expressing myself through this page is probably the therapeutic function it has.

On the other hand, writing something down might also enhance the effect of what one writes. For instance, if I feel a bit depressed and I thus write down "I feel a bit depressed", acknowledging that possibly momentary feeling and engraving it somewhere where it is there to stay, never to be lost. That way, actually "actualizing" what one feels or doubts into words, physically noticeable, it becomes part of reality. This reality is still what most people consider to be the standard for judging something's actuality.

Yes, we can be demagogues to ourselves.

Shoutout

2004-12-05T18:35:00.000+01:00

愛させてくれ。

When I'm drunk...

2004-12-03T19:42:00.000+01:00

It is said that when you're drunk, your true self comes to life. If that is true then these small texts I typed on my cell phone should represent my most inner feelings. Whatever be the case, here they are.

While the blood was pouring out of her body, I felt regret. Regret for piercing a bullet through her ribs.
The absolute sadness not to know. It is unbearable, this crossing of the river without knowing where the shores lie. It is absolute ignorance and yet our will to breathe keeps ignoring. Maybe we are just a slave of our own will to survive. But it's all a 'maybe'. What would the realm of 'probably' look like, I wonder. Maybe, it has shores and sunsets. But even 'maybe' has those, doesn't it?
My dreams are full of misconceptions, sex and fear.

Hmmm...

Moody

2004-12-02T06:50:00.000+01:00

Funny how things change. A couple of days ago, I was depressed as hell, now I feel like I can conquer the world just by sitting on the toilet reading last Friday's newspaper. I guess I really am a moody guy.

In the meanwhile, the ground was shaking.

NEW LIFE part II

2004-11-30T13:44:00.000+01:00

Focus.
Discipline.
Honesty.
Awareness.

Pissed

2004-11-30T09:40:00.000+01:00

I'm pissed.

Pissed at friends that make you doubt whether they really are your friends. Pissed at those who call you when they need you, but wave away every invitation or refuse to reply for no apparent reason. And even if there were a reason, they are relentless to talk about it. Sorry, but I've wiped out your name in my book. All what is left, is loneliness.

I'm pissed at our mutual friends that sense all this, for the simple reason that they were involved in it, trying to soothe me with words like "Next time we'll go out and have fun", making me feel even more pathetic. I'm pissed at people not telling me what's going on, I'm pissed at human interaction

//

and while I'm typing this, I get an email from you. Maybe I'm not that alone after all. Thank you.

//

but why haven't you replied yet?

One way love - or doubt.

2004-11-29T17:11:00.000+01:00

Damn, am I in love again? It's been quite a while since I've had it this bad. A couple of weeks ago, it still felt like true happiness, now I feel as if it is taking control over me. It's caressing me with its claws. I feel pure jealousy whenever I see a guy come over and talk to her. And when I'm drunk, I even feel like crushing them. Even though she's not mine. *sigh*

The only thing I want to do, is sit next to her, hold her, and be silent.

The question is: what does she think? Is she just being friendly to me, or could it be that she's shy, or whatever... A lot of mixed signals and an innate fear of completely giving myself, due to past love experiences, result in a lack of action. Love can make a human being so fucking weak. Even now that I have started acting, my mind is full of possible scenarios, doubts not only about her, but also about my own feelings. Is this real? Am I good enough? How can I change myself?

By changing myself, adjusting myself to what I believe is what she looks for in a guy, I deny my inner self, as though I myself am not enough. In a way, I thus create a defense against any intrusions into my soul, making it impossible for me to truly love. Nothing unconditional about it. Doesn't matter if that same love ballad has been on repeat for the last hour.

Self-esteem and self-protection, my satanic brothers. My whole life, I grew up with the feeling I had to answer to somebody else's wishes, living up to the image I thought they had of me.

"You're too sensitive". My ass! Self-protection at warp nine.

Break me, baby.

Eighties galore

2004-11-28T06:45:00.000+01:00

I'm 24 and I can already get nostalgic.

Some nostalgia-improving-non-alcoholic-thingies I got hooked on lately:

Nick Kamen - "Each time you break my heart" : love those backing vocals
MacGyver - Pilot episode: Barbara Spencer: Blow an opening? With what? Don't tell me you know how to make a bomb out of a stick of chewing gum. MacGyver: Why, you got some?
Sledge Hammer: Trust me, I know what I'm doing
All the 80's movies!!

This list is getting too long.

You

2004-11-27T22:33:00.000+01:00

I saw you again today.

We hugged.
"Yeah party! How's it goin' !?" - hug.
I closed my eyes.
Did you close yours?

Funny

2004-11-27T08:25:00.000+01:00

When I checked my Re-Invigorate account, browsing through the URLs people come from when they visit this blog, I came across this one. Some British guy must have felt the urge to see some big breasts on his Windows Media Player screen. Too bad for him, what he was referred to, was of course this post.

Lyrics: Don Henley - The Boys of Summer

2004-11-23T07:38:00.000+01:00

The winter is slowly but steadily pulling out its own icey sword of Damocles, but this song is still amazing. To me, it basically comes down to this: The summer's out of reach, we've got to go on, off to the next summer maybe, but I keep on looking back and I still believe in it...

Love and time, I guess it's a universal thing.

Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer's out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
I'm drivin' by your house
Though I know you're not at home

But I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

I never will forget those nights
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how you made me crazy?
Remember how I made you scream
Now I don't understand what happened to our love
But babe, I'm gonna get you back
I'm gonna show you what I'm made of

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see you walkin' real slow and you're smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

Out on the road today, I saw a DEADHEAD sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said, "Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but-

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got that top pulled down and that radio on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
You got that hair slicked back and those Wayfarers on, baby
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

Last night

2004-11-20T06:37:00.000+01:00

I think she has big breasts. I can't convince my drunken eyes not to slide down. Must be soft. Must be.

My favo(u)rite Firefox extensions

2004-11-19T08:00:00.000+01:00

I still don't understand why people would prefer Internet Explorer over Mozilla Firefox. Ok, it has been known to crash once in a while when opening a .wmv-file and shockwave-plugins can be a bitch, but "hello, it is me you're looking for"! Especially because of its multitude of extensions!

Here's a list of + links to my favo(u)rite babies...

Foxy Tunes: open music files, play, pause, stop,...in your media player of choice, without having to leave your browser window!
Adblock: BLOCKKITT!!
BBCode: download it and you're a right-click away from easy-going-heaven at forums...
CookieCuller: immediate access to the cookie-list, as well as the ability to delete and block them, for ever!
ForecastFox: no need to check the weather anymore, this one does it for you, wherever you are on this globe, whatever you want to know.
JustBlogIt!: like an article? wanna blog it? just blog it!
Bandwith Tester: hmmm, slow today...
ImageZoom: to take a closer look.
LinkToolbar: great for picture gallery surfing! (hehe), next image, previous image, directory up,...you name it.

Lucy, I'm home!

2046 (Wong Kar-Wai)

2004-11-18T07:22:00.000+01:00

I finally got to see it, Wong Kar-Wai's latest, that can easily be described as the sequel to In the Mood for Love: Tony Leung returns from Singapore back to Hong Kong, and speaks of his many relationships with women. The female cast is composed of the best actresses China has to offer these days (Li Gong, Zhang Ziyi, Faye Wong) and they're all in (some sort of) love. In the meanwhile he writes his novel entitled "2046"... I could go on about this for several pages more, but it would contain too many spoilers.

The similarities and references to Wong's other work are quite subtle, yet apparent, such as the act of taking off the shoes of a drunk woman that fell asleep on the bed, for instance. The magnificent use of colours, camera perspectives and overall imagery hasn't changed at all, making this sensuous picture an evenly tantalizing feast for both mind and heart as its predecessors.

But I believe it is the first time he really makes spoken conclusions about how relationships and love work. This movie is ultimately about how love, too, is dependent on the time where and the place when it sparks and evolves. Some statements coming from Tony Leung's voice over were very clear: "There is no such thing as an eternal love" or "In love, it's all about timing"... Time plays a great role in this picture, as does it in our love lives. We look into the future that is 2046, but we long for the past that is 2046. Watch this!

2046, WongKarWai