SubtleKnife

"The Anglo Saxon race, sir, is a most surprising one."

2012-01-09T21:45:00.001+01:00

So said Rev. Henry McNeal Turner on 3 September 1868, when the Georgia state legislature - of which, as a Representative, he was a member - expelled all of its black members. Turner was born in 1834 to free parents, but the law prevented the education even of free blacks. As a young teenager he got janitorial work at a law firm and, with the help of the lawyers who recognised his intelligence, managed to educate himself.

He became an African Methodist Church preacher in 1853 and travelled. After the US Civil War (1861-1865) broke out, he helped organise the First Regiment of U.S. Colored Troops (1863) and became an army chaplain.

In 1867 he helped organise the Republican Party in Georgia, served in the state's constitutional convention and was consequently elected to its House of Representatives, where he served until he and twenty-six other black legislators were expelled.

I have selected several quotes, BlackPast.org has a complete transcript.

Mr. Speaker: Before proceeding to argue this question upon its intrinsic merits, I wish the members of this House to understand the position that I take. I hold that I am a member of this body. Therefore, sir, I shall neither fawn nor cringe before any party, nor stoop to beg them for my rights.

I am here to demand my rights and to hurl thunderbolts at the men who would dare to cross the threshold of my manhood. There is an old aphorism which says, "fight the devil with fire," and if I should observe the rule in this instance, I wish gentlemen to understand that it is but fighting them with their own weapon.

The Anglo Saxon race, sir, is a most surprising one. No man has ever been more deceived in that race than I have been for the last three weeks. I was not aware that there was in the character of that race so much cowardice or so much pusillanimity. The treachery which has been exhibited in it by gentlemen belonging to that race has shaken my confidence in it more than anything that has come under my observation from the day of my birth.

If you deny my right the right of my constituents to have representation here because it is a "privilege," then, sir, I will show you that I have as many privileges as the whitest man on this floor. If I am not permitted to occupy a seat here, for the purpose of representing my constituents, I want to know how white men can be permitted to do so. How can a white man represent a colored constituency, if a colored man cannot do it?

We have pioneered civilization here; we have built up your country; we have worked in your fields and garnered your harvests for two hundred and fifty years! And what do we ask of you in return? Do we ask you for compensation for the sweat our fathers bore for you for the tears you have caused, and the hearts you have broken, and the lives you have curtailed, and the blood you have spilled? Do we ask retaliation? We ask it not. We are willing to let the dead past bury its dead; but we ask you, now for our rights.

Also:
New Georgia Encyclopedia article on Henry McNeal Turner
Titles by Henry McNeal Turner at Documenting the American South
Henry McNeal Turner on Wikipedia

rational recovery

2011-12-26T17:09:00.000+01:00

My best friend, K., handed me this book this afternoon, called Rational Recovery. The New Cure for Substance Addiction and I read a LOT of it straight through. It sounds very tempting and he has the book, so he is at least thinking about doing something, which is a good thing. As opposed to AA, Rational Recovery (RR) puts the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of the addict. Given as we don't believe in any higher powers, Best Friend was never going to respond well to Alcoholics Anonymous.

Does anyone know about this? Is it any good?

My big fear is that, although he's read about it, he doesn't understand or doesn't really want to apply what he's read. I had a little 'discussion' with him after he said he wanted to quit in January. He kept coming up with reasons why he wouldn't quit now and I kept asking "Who is telling me this?"

I don't go out with him anymore, I don't give him any money (his ex already controls his finances and has him on an allowance), but I love him and you can't shut that off. He did kick his painkiller addiction, but as I've always said, that was really only a physical dependency (I say only...), the real problem is alcohol. And I worry for him.

Joe.My.Scientologist

2011-11-20T19:26:00.000+01:00

Funny for an atheist like Joe. Although it's quite suspicious that the post below the one shown on my screen capture is actually one from almightygod himself:

map geekery

2011-11-14T22:28:00.000+01:00

This afternoon at work I was suddenly overcome with a bout of map geekery inspired by xkcd.

This is part of the cartoon that set me off. Obviously I'm not going to spoil the fun for you here, you'll have to click and find out what it says about you.

As a result I am now in the possession of a stack of illegally printed A3 maps of the world in Equirectangular, Gall-Peters, Mercator, Goode homolosine, Kavrayskiy VII, Peirce quincunciual, Dymaxion, Van der Grinten and most elegantly of all - I think - Waterman butterfly projection.

All stolen from the Wikipedia list of map projections except for the Waterman, which is a bit of a drawback with Wikipedia. Also, if anyone knows of a high resolution version of a Cahill butterfly map other than the line drawings I've seen so far (or this funny fabric that allows you to sew globes) I'd very much appreciate it.

In a similar vein, here's a selection of map blogs I follow. Rather infrequently I must confess, but there are only so many hours in a day and all of you are just being too interesting on the internet for me to keep up.

Cartophilia: Maps and Map Memorabilia
The Map Scroll
Urban Cartography
Strange Maps

memories of sinterklaas

2011-11-01T20:34:00.000+01:00

Smell of jute sacking,
Wrapping paper tears;
St. Nicholas' Eve.

(Yes I know it's only November 1st.)

a Doctor Who bonanza

2011-10-31T21:22:00.000+01:00

This is a little treasure trove of Doctor Who videos from a little while back, commemorating the departures of David Tennant and Russell T. Davies and Julie Gardner from the show. First off, here's The Ballad of Russell and Julie:

Don't worry, Russell, I've been having dirty thoughts about Midshipman Frame too and I've managed to keep on functioning - o wait...

And here's David Tennant as himself, amongst the cast and crew and together with his musical heroes the Proclaimers:

Found here, with thanks to @scandalwomen.

See What A Mo Can Do

2011-10-31T20:31:00.000+01:00

Of course the slogan does not refer to what I first imagined, as Joe.My.God and his tipster Bill knew only too well. But did the makers of this campaign? I'm giving the benefit of the doubt.

I would probably sooner grow a 'tache than sport a pink ribbon, but mostly I'm concerned any form of cancer gets more "popular" than others. And neither breast cancer nor prostate cancer are the real killers that the word cancer evokes. Scores of men die with prostate cancer rather than from it.

Mostly I'm glad all communications specifically ask men to grow moustaches. I have, touch wood, been blessed with a pristine upper lip.

Movember

Die, Ron Weasley, die!

2011-10-31T20:10:00.000+01:00

No, really, I love that character. *cough*not*cough* What could a smart girl like Hermione ever see in him?

This is, apparently, JK Rowling and Daniel Radcliffe talking in a leaked interview for the extras of the last Harry Potter DVD. Which means I've now seen one more minute from that than I ever imagined. (I have seen a few of the earlier movies, but they've all felt rather flat to me.)

She hasn't evaded dark subjects before, I think she could've killed off Ron.

book him, Danno!

2011-10-30T17:12:00.001+01:00

The final episode of season one of the new series of Hawaii Five-O is on Dutch TV tonight.

I admit, I've already seen it. I started watching the remake series out of curiosity, but I've grown quite fond of it. So when my compatriots see the big finale, I'll be watching an episode from the second series.

As you may have figured out by now, this whole post was just an excuse to use the title.

I have an earworm

2011-10-30T16:32:00.001+01:00

And it's Martha Wainwright singing Barbara's Dis, Quand Reviendras-Tu?

I may have blogged about this before, but that song just haunts me some days (or weeks). And sometimes its just a friendly companion.

Here's the original version by Barbara. Not too shabby either! Below are the lyrics to the original, Martha - like her brother Rufus - has a tendency to muddle the words a bit, although her French is much betther than Rufus'!

Voilà combien de jours, voilà combien de nuits,
Voilà combien de temps que tu es reparti,
Tu m'as dit cette fois, c'est le dernier voyage,
Pour nos cœurs déchirés, c'est le dernier naufrage,
Au printemps, tu verras, je serai de retour,
Le printemps, c'est joli pour se parler d'amour,
Nous irons voir ensemble les jardins refleuris,
Et déambulerons dans les rues de Paris,

Dis, quand reviendras-tu,
Dis, au moins le sais-tu,
Que tout le temps qui passe,
Ne se rattrape guère,
Que tout le temps perdu,
Ne se rattrape plus,

Le printemps s'est enfui depuis longtemps déjà,
Craquent les feuilles mortes, brûlent les feux de bois,
A voir Paris si beau dans cette fin d'automne,
Soudain je m'alanguis, je rêve, je frissonne,
Je tangue, je chavire, et comme la rengaine,
Je vais, je viens, je vire, je me tourne, je me traîne,
Ton image me hante, je te parle tout bas,
Et j'ai le mal d'amour, et j'ai le mal de toi,

Dis, quand reviendras-tu,
Dis, au moins le sais-tu,
Que tout le temps qui passe,
Ne se rattrape guère,
Que tout le temps perdu,
Ne se rattrape plus,

J'ai beau t'aimer encore, j'ai beau t'aimer toujours,
J'ai beau n'aimer que toi, j'ai beau t'aimer d'amour,
Si tu ne comprends pas qu'il te faut revenir,
Je ferai de nous deux mes plus beaux souvenirs,
Je reprendrai la route, le monde m'émerveille,
J'irai me réchauffer à un autre soleil,
Je ne suis pas de celles qui meurent de chagrin,
Je n'ai pas la vertu des femmes de marins,

Dis, quand reviendras-tu,
Dis, au moins le sais-tu,
Que tout le temps qui passe,
Ne se rattrape guère,
Que tout le temps perdu,
Ne se rattrape plus...

And what a coincidence, one of my favourite Twitter followees just said:

"Everyone needs some Martha Wainwright in their life - this is a cracker. "You cheated me" http://t.co/iWHDLHLr

One day...

2011-10-24T21:08:00.000+02:00

One day I set out to write a story. It wasn't a very unusual day; by the very virtue of me having started a story it was in fact a rather common sort of day.

I often daydream about writing stories, it would be better if I daydreamt about the stories themselves.

Why should I write a story anyway? Here I am, fat, middle-aged (forty next year is middle-aged, whether people want to accept it or not - I have no real problem with it), in a low leveloffice job (comparable to a lance corporal in a very 'Jones the butcher' kind of way) and have I ever really done anything?

I've always been the one on the river's edge, too shy, too socially inept, too insecure to take the plunge. At best I've waded out into a shallow pool that had formed away from the raging torrent of life, but never further than the knees.

My nights are filled with TV and social media, never enough reading, little to no writing.

I'm a great starter, though. The apartment is littered with notebooks, purpose-bought for that one big story that was burning at the tips of my fingers. Sometimes I'd abondon that one and start another. Sometimes it would turn into a collection of sad, neglected ideas; this very book (started as a diary) contains several of those too.

There's a wonderful idea for a Doctor Who episode a few pages back. I really should pick that up again. In fact, now that I have a computer again, I may do just that.

On this day, which was like so many others, I opened a notebook, took out a black fine liner pen (Stabilo are my favourites, so if I ever make it big, please send me a box), looked at the empty page (A6 size on purpose, so the white expanse doesn't seem too threatening - plus I can tell myself I've filled two-and-a-half pages already) and just started to write...

this is just too cute

2011-08-18T16:46:00.000+02:00

This is such a sweet story about a six-year-old who is in love with Glee's Blaine Anderson:
“Mommy, they are just like me.”

Thanks to Joe.My.God

Let's Kill Hitler

2011-08-17T22:05:00.001+02:00

Oh, I love a good yarn, me. The current Doctor Who series kicks off again on August 27th with the first episode of the second half of the season, entitled "Let's Kill Hitler". Planet Gallifrey notes that the show starts at 7:10 PM UK time. I expect there'll be a date scheduled for BBC America around that time too.

Which might come in handy for K., who is in detox in Amsterdam at the moment. No rehab facility would have him because he was also - and quite legitimately - hooked on painkillers. It was only a very low dose, but apparently it doesn't take much oxycontin to make withdrawal a real bitch.

Anyway, after several false starts at clinics that ended up not wanting to care for him after all - and a couple of months' worth of weekend drunksitting to make sure he didn't accidentally kill himself by falling or forgetting he'd already taken that pill - his ex received a phone call Thursday two weeks ago that K. had a little over an hour to report to this place.

It's brand new and looks a lot like a Scandinavian design hotel. If you ignore the lock on the ward door and the fact that even the tiniest windows don't open. The other eight or nine people there are all return visitors, coming in up to four times a year and seemingly treating it like a vacation.

So when a friendly masseur stopped by, outside of visiting hours and with portable table in tow, questions were asked. And when they found out that K. is scheduled to go on from there to a rehab resort on Curacao, there was a certain amount of grumbling.

The sad thing is that what sets him apart from the rest is his education. Most of the people in there haven't enjoyed half the amount that he has. (He is probably smarter than most of the staff too.)

Not the easiest to get along with at the best of times, K. also isn't great with confined spaces, even quite spacious ones, he's slowly being taken off the drugs that lessen the effects of withdrawal and he's been having some dreams confronting him with less happy times in his past. Which makes him all rather impatient with people.

But on the up side, he should be able to watch BBC America, especially Doctor Who, one of the many interests we share.

Check out the BBC Doctor Who site for more news and trailers.

hello blogosphere

2011-08-16T20:15:00.000+02:00

Yes, I'm still alive and kicking. I do apologise for cheating on you with Twitter and, well, life, but here I am again!

I still adore Twitter, but I've been getting increasingly frustrated with its boundaries - although it's still a kick to fire off that perfect, pithy tweet. There are times agirl just needs more time and space to make her point than Twitter allows.

During my leave of absence I've made some interesting discoveries, rekindled old loves and you will probably see those reflected in changes to the links in the sidebar. But perhaps there's room for both.

I'll see. I hope you'll join me.

Liberty gets her bus pass

2010-05-02T21:29:00.006+02:00

This Wednesday, May 5th, it will be 65 years since the end of the Second World War for The Netherlands in Europe - August 15th for what is now Indonesia.

According to my calculations, looking back four centuries, we're not due another invasion until 2070.

haiku

2010-04-25T14:11:00.008+02:00

Here are a few - more and less - traditional haiku that I've written recently. Most English haiku are written in seventeen syllables (divided into phrases of five, seven and five) or in a free style, but still very short. These poems ar then often printed on three lines.

As you can see, I do not like the presentation in three separate lines, I feel the structure should be evident from the poem - which has made me very reluctant to share my flawed attempts - and I prefer to stick to certain traditional forms

But anyway, here goes nothing:

Ancient tree
A pile of timber, or a living monument to eternity?

Above the Rhine
Misty, viny slopes rolling voluptuously; I can almost reach.

Pink sky
Candyfloss floats: it's lighter than the colours of a spring sunrise.

Winter
Duck on a bus-stop: is nature's time-table screwed up too?

However, in trying to apply myself more and more to the art, I've found that I'm much more in my element in a category called senryu: (darkly) humorous poems with the same structure as haiku, but concentrating more on human nature rather than just nature. I don't know if there's a name for :

Journey
Without sunglasses, looking out of train windows is such a headache.

Clippers
Important advice to those with long toenails: don't cut to the quick.

My foot!
There will be a day when plantar fasciitis is eradicated.

Here's a quick diversion into a different structure (5-3-5 instead of 5-7-5):

Gluttony
World hunger must end! Honestly, I didn't eat that much...

And finally one for the internet age. For clarity's sake this one is presented over three lines, internet-speak has rather weak grammar...:

For the win!
WTF?
A/S/L... LMAO!
STFU, K?

Friday's child

2010-04-25T12:42:00.006+02:00

This rhyme has been doing the rounds on the blogosphere lately, so I felt I might as well chip in

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

I'm not so sure about this "loving and giving" lark. Can I change my birthday? I'll take Monday instead.

Best friend K. was born on a Sunday and he's definitely gay.

My IQ is < x >

2010-04-17T12:42:00.006+02:00

One out of two isn't bad... (Point your mouse at the picture and read.)

And while I'm at it, this is so true. Back to the story I was reading!

One more and that's it, I promise. Awwww!

Pride goes before the fall

2010-04-14T07:57:00.000+02:00

I wrote this over a week ago, forgetting to post it. There may be a couple more of these "lost posts".

I should have used my crutches. I had them in my hands before I left for work this morning. But I figured I hadn't been out all day Monday and I'd used them during the weekend, so my foot should be rested enough. It wasn't hurting...

Except that ten yards from my front door I did start to feel the pain again.

Never mind, I'll hop on the bus and I'll walk slowly and carefully on the other end.

Eight days later, I'm still on crutches. These things heal slowly and painfully.

Lousy drunk

2010-04-05T16:44:00.003+02:00

Thank goodness for Easter Mondays off work. Even though I'm actually feeling fine, it's good to be able to take it easy after last night.

Church was good, we had a visiting minister from the States who made some interesting points and left with an open ending. UUs like it when a church meeting makes you think.

Afterwards I went out with the president, vice president, the visiting minister, his wife, the lady they've been staying with, her boyfriend and their son for dinner and a few drinks. We ended up forgetting about dinner and just having snacks - and quite a few drinks. During the service the minister's host had mentioned that this was the first time her son had attended a UU service. A little later he got up to light a candle too, starting with: "I am the son." It was Easter...

It was so much fun just hanging out and joking. The minister's wife was a revelation, so funny and quite a bit naughty. She learned a few words of Dutch and immediately applied them to the bartender. Indeed he was quite a "mooi lekker ding". Their hosts left, but the son - quite the dish himself - stayed. He's a mix of Dutch, US and Mexican and he's in real estate. If Lynette hadn't already found her dream home, he might have been the man to talk to. Although he's further north than where she is going (there's about a seventeeen hour drive between them, he thinks).

She also told us how she got stopped on the Canadian border once, at the start of a trip around the US and Canada. Ladies will know there's always a compartiment in your purse that you never really know, I'm sure there are equivalents for men too. Well, they found a roach, not even this big (indicating a quarter of an inch) that she had completely forgotten about in that compartiment that you never use. I believe the irony of an American trying to smuggle something like that into Canada didn't escape them.

I can't temember how the conversation turned on to the subject of bathroom vending machines, but apparently the men's room sells breath mints and condoms, while the ladies sells breath mints and miniature toothbrushes. So the son suddenly holds up The packet of condoms he's bought in ther and I guess it wasnly fair that I came clean and showed the toothbrush. The latter come in a little plastic tube that also contains a tiny tube of toothpaste.

We were quite rowdy and our bartender didn't wa t to believe we'd just (okay, I told him around 10 PM, time went by so fast) come from church and he seemed fascinated by the mixed composition of our group. Not something I'm too surprised at, older UUs seem amazingly 'with it'.

The minister and I exchanged ideas on iPhone apps, his wife convinced me that there are situations in which you might want to buy an iPad, plus her mind is almost as dirty as mine.

At eleven thirty it seemed as everyone suddenly started thinking of getting home. I thought about crashing at K's, but he was probably comatose by then and I don't have my keys to his place anymore since he lost his.

They all walked to the tram stop next to the Westertoren with me - the minister's wife saying how she'd been to the pink triangle, the gay monument across the street - and waited for me to catch one.

I wasn't drunk enough to get into any real trouble, but I was operating a pair of crutches to keep my plantar fasciitis down (did I mention it's been acting up again?) and if it seems to you that crutches might help stabilise the intoxicated, you're wrong.

I got home, took a happy pill and started getting ready for bed and what happened? Out it all came. Usually you're not supposed to just take your meds again, but this time there was no chance of a double dosage.

Back to work tomorrow, but only for three days and the it's off to the EUU retreat. Damn!

Had to wash my hair and get out of the bath there, I heard the starting music of University Challenge.

Invictus

2010-03-07T19:06:00.006+01:00

In a last-gasp effort, I have increased the number of Oscar nominees that I've watched to twelve, which - as I've never been that much of a movie freak - is probably a personal record. This weekend I saw Avatar (the less said the better... Okay, I will say this: it's like a screensaver, pretty, but no plot), In The Loop (an unfunny version of The Office against a backdrop of international politics and the threat of war) and Invictus.

Now, Wikipedia and IMDb both say the title and the plot point the film was named after are incorrect, in that it involved a different text (Theodore Roosevelt's 1910 Man in an Arena-speech, but this poem works so well I am inclined to forgive the makers. Also, Mr. Freeman appears to still be friends with Mr. Mandela and François Pienaar recieved Matt Damon at his house so the actor could study him, so the main characters involved did not seem to object.

And of course, it's such a powerful little poem:

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

-- William E. Henley

I remember watching Nelson Mandela walk to freedom, I remember following the amazing '95 World Cup and therefore I may be biased, but this is one awesome movie. And apart from a few minor details it's all true!

Damon and Freeman and completely made me believe they were those who they portrayed, which is always harder when the subject is still alive, and deserve their nominations.

P.S. If you're able to watch BBC2 tonight, you can judge In The Loop for yourself. Dutch viewers with a subscription to Film1 or Caiway digital can watch animated short nomination A Matter of Loaf and Death, a Wallace and Grommit film, at 23:45 - with the coverage starting at midnight.

P.P.S. It's been a busy weekend, I also saw the better-than-average disaster movie 2012 and the very funny animation Planet 51.

Even more commandments?

2010-03-06T09:47:00.006+01:00

Actually they're pretty good. "Borrowed" from Joe.My.God.: Christopher Hitchens discusses the old Ten Commandmends and suggests ten new ones (#8 is good, but I'm not sure I could keep it...):

Less than 28 years to go

2010-03-05T20:32:00.004+01:00

I don't know if I'll have this job until my pension, but I'm enjoying myself. I make a lot of unbilled hours because I like certain things to be done a certain way (and if you want them done right, you have to do them yourself) and because they're helpful in expanding my skills. I'm also finding out a lot about office politics from my direct boss.

Apparently job prospects are looking up, but job-hopping is out - according to some other train commuter's free newspaper front page yesterday. A tenuous excuse to post this. I grew up listening to Donovan, my mother was a big fan, I could sing songs like Universal Soldier, Mellow Yellow and Colours by heart (still remember most of it now...)

Gold Watch Blues

I went up for my interview on the fourth day of July.
Personnel he questioned me until I nearly cried,
Made me fill in forms until I shook with fear
About the colour of my toilet roll and if my cousin's queer.

Here's your goldwatch and the shackles for your chain
And your piece of paper sayin' you left here sane.
And if you've a son who wants a good career
Just get him to sign on the dotted line and work for fifty years.

He asked me how many jobs I'd had before.
He nearly had a heart attack when I answered, four.
Four jobs in twenty years, oh, this can never be
We only take on men who work until they die.

Here's your goldwatch and the shackles for your chain
And your piece of paper sayin' you left here sane.
And if you've a son who wants a good career
Just get him to sign on the dotted line and work for fifty years.

He took me outside to where the gravestones stand in line.
This is where we bury them in quick-stone and in lime
And if you come to work for us on this you must agree,
That if you're going to die please do it during tea
Break!

Here's your goldwatch and the shackles for your chain
And your piece of paper sayin' you left here sane.
And if you've a son who wants a good career
Just get him to sign on the dotted line and work for fifty years.

This story that you heard you may think rather queer
But it is the truth you'll be surprised to hear.
I did not want no job upon the board,
I just wanted to take a broom and sweep the bloody floor.

Here's your goldwatch and the shackles for your chain
And your piece of paper sayin' you left here sane.
And if you've a son who wants a good career
Just get him to sign on the dotted line and work for fifty years.

-- Donovan Leitch --

PS. When I was typing in the label "pension" the predictive text thingy suggested "penis". How did this blog get so dirty?

PPS. No bananas involved, but I am quite mellow right now. Word of advise: don't get the munchies when one of the few things around are wasabi peanuts.

An Ideal Hypocrite

2010-03-05T19:44:00.003+01:00

Remember to what a point your Puritanism in England has brought you. In old days nobody preferred to be a bit better than his neighbours. In fact, to be a bit better than one's neighbour was considered excessively vulgar and middle-class. Nowadays, with our modern mania for morality, every one has to pose as a paragon of purity, incorruptibility, and all the other seven deadly virtues - and what is the result? You all go over like ninepins - one after the other.

Mrs. Cheveley in: Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband

Masterful

2010-03-03T21:20:00.002+01:00

Is the BBC trying to tell us something? Are they preparing us for another return of The Master? He's only just died, saving The Doctor's life in the grand finale of the Christmas special...

Now this Thursday, thanks to the programmers of BBC 1 and BBC 2, I plan to watch Masterchef, followed by Mastermind, then a brief interlude for QI and finally capped by Mastercrafts. They're doing stained glass this episode, even better (I think) than thatching and blacksmithing.

I took some pictures of the polling station as I was waiting in line for the local council elections, but I was trying to do it surreptitiously (the photography, not voting) and they didn't come out too well. It's in the chapel of a no longer existing monastery. After that it was used as a tannery or some such industry and then well into the twentieth century as the town pawn shop.

coincidence?

2010-02-27T22:10:00.002+01:00

Two of the top ten headlines on the website of one of the major Dutch newspapers today:

"One in five children too afraid to play outside."
"More and more Flemish priests move to Netherlands."

English and its allies

2010-01-28T20:56:00.004+01:00

I use too many -ally words when speaking English. Basically, practically, actually...

Really.

What would Asterix think?

2009-12-24T23:40:00.004+01:00

I hadn't thought about the Unitarian Universalist Christmas Carol in the previous post for a while - I actually found and scheduled it many months ago - so it's a bit of a coincidence (although not completely, considering my philosophy) that yesterday I bought Richard Dawkins' The Greatest Show In Earth, which begins thus:

CHAPTER 1

Only A Theory?

Imagine that you are a teacher of Romans history and the Latin language, anxious to impart your enthusiasm for the ancient world - for the elegiacs of Ovid and the odes of Horace, the sinewy economy of Latin grammaras exhibited in the oratory of Cicero, the strategic niceties of the Punic Wars, the generalship of Julius Caesar and the voluptuous excesses of the later emperors. That's s big undertaking and it takes time, concentration, dedication. Yet you find your precious time continually preyed upon, and your class' attention distracted, by a baying pack of ignoramuses (as a Latin scholar you would know better than to say 'ignorami') who, with strong political and especially financial support, scurry about tirelessly attempting to persuade your unfortunste pupils that the Romans never existed. There never was a Roman Empire. The entire world came into existence only just beyond living memory. Spanish, Italian, French, Potuguese, Catalan, Occitan, Romanesh: allthese languages and their constituent dialects sprang spontaneously into being, and owe nothing to any predecessor such as Latin. Instead of devoting your full attention to the noble vocation of classical scholar and teacher, you are forced to divert your time and energy to a rearguard defence of the proposition that the Romans existed at all: a defence againdt an exhibition of ignoranr prejudice that would make you weep if you weren't too busy fighting it.

Gods Rest Ye, Unitarians

2009-12-24T21:13:00.002+01:00

Gods rest ye, Unitarians, let nothing you dismay;
Remember there's no evidence there was a Christmas Day;
When Christ was born is just not known, no matter what they say,
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

Our current Christmas customs come from Persia and from Greece,
From solstice celebrations of the ancient Middle East.
This whole darn Christmas spiel is just another pagan feast,
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact.

There was no star of Bethlehem, there was no angels' song;
There could not have been wise men for the trip would take too long.
The stories in the Bible are historically wrong,
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact,
Glad tidings of reason and fact!

(source)

Winter wonderland

2009-12-20T23:32:00.004+01:00

Here's the view outside my window a few minutes ago. To the left the little drawbridge and in the middle of the canal one of the trees the neighbourhood comittee has put up along the whole length.

But I'm lucky, my boss called this afternoon to say she's got a foot of snow.

No sign of the ducks in this one, I believe. Thanks to the snow they haven't had to work as hard at keeping parts of the canal open today, it's all thawed out. But it was a really funny sight Saturday morning when one of the female ducks overshot the open water and made a tail landing on the ice, sliding several feet.

Busy day

2009-12-13T11:57:00.003+01:00

Filled with politics and culture. This morning I watched the Andrew Marr show on the BBC and I just now finished watching Peer Gynt: lots of man-on-man dancing - yum!

Then it was straight into the noon news bulletin (our environment minister has left for Kopenhagen by train) and the Dutch politics show Buitenhof. After that I'll have twenty minutes before a registration of Don Carlo. I may check out this program listed as "Jewish Comedy Café", which falls almost perfectly into the gap. (Note to self: re-read Schiller.)

Another thirty minutes or so after the Verdi, Britten's Albert Herring starts. To be honest I don't really know anything about this one, I'll just have to wait and see whether I like it. Which is not a bad thing.

In between - and during, knowing my restlesness - I shall be blogging, surfing, reading, downloading e-books, copying Christmas carol lyrics, singing, crocheting, writing and just walking around for no apparent reason. When people will ask me tomorrow what I've done, I'll say "nothing".

I'm usually very busy doing nothing.

chicken!

2009-12-12T22:57:00.003+01:00

Also food-related, but savoury this time. I made great chicken salad sandwiches yesterday. I learned this idea for leftover chicken from K - but now I often buy chicken especially so I can make it. Probably the whole world knows about this already, but let's see where my attempt at food-blogging gets me. Please don't laugh, though...

For the chicken salad:
chicken breast
fritessaus (you can use mayonnaise, as K does, but this has about half the fat and it's mostly a binding agent)
garlic
onion (I didn't have any this time)

For the rest of the sandwich
slices of whole wheat bread (mine has some extra seeds, like sunflower, added)
lamb's lettuce (I'm notoriously picky about salad greens, but these I love)
tomatoes
pecan nuts (I prefer mine plain)

Salt, pepper, cayenne, olive oil

Preparation
Toast the bread with some olive oil. (You could use fresh, I had some that I baked the day before, so I toasted it.)

Heat some olive oil in a frying pan. Chop the onions and garlic and sweat them. Drain and set aside.

Cut the chicken in similar-sized chunks and fry off in some olive oil. You're not necessarily looking for colour, just make sure it's cooked through. Drain and set aside to cool.

When all has cooled down, put the chicken, onions and garlic in a food processor and blitz. Spoon through enough of the fritessaus or mayonnaise to make it all stick together and season to taste. You can eat it as is, but it gets even better if you leave it in your fridge for a while.

Take the toast, put on a layer of lamb's lettuce and spread a good helping of the chicken mixture on top. I like slightly underdo the pepper in the salad itself and then to have a generous sprinkle of cayenne pepper on top (you can use paprika instead, I guess), followed by either pecans or slices of tomato. The former really add to the nutty flavour of the bread and the latter is nice and fresh. (I'm also thinking about trying a little bit of some finely chopped pickle in the mixture.)

I have pictures, but they'll have to wait until my phone has been reanimated. Posting this has been very enjoyable, in that I just finished off the last of the salad with some lettuce and tomatoes.

The rest of the chicken I have is going to go into peanut sauce tomorrow. I don't eat peanut butter, but peanut sauce is heaven. All you need to go with that is some white rice, really.

chocolate!

2009-12-12T22:42:00.005+01:00

In honour of the season, or rather because I just fancied a change, I have tonight become a chocolate brunette.

I'd show you a picture, but my phone is on the blink. I choose not to dwell on that, though, dyeing has just my hair cheered me up!

I'll try not to check myself in any and every reflective surface I pass, but it'll look funny and catch my eye for a while, I'm sure...

EDIT: I have totally not been going back to the bathroom mirror to check how it looks now every ten minutes.

Jesus!

2009-12-07T21:31:00.002+01:00

I can't find words to describe the puerile glee of hearing the voice on University Challenge call out - especially in the latter stages when his excitement rises - "Jesus, Hadley!"

I wonder if Christ College Cambridge is still in the running. That would be my ideal final:
"Jesus, Jones!"
"Christ, Smith!"

Damn you, Alan Bennett

2009-12-07T00:33:00.002+01:00

Not that he's done anything wrong, of course, in fact I greatly admire him, but thar's the problem: the BBC is having an Alan Bennet week and I only just found out they were showing A Question Of Attribution. The scene between Sir Anthony Blunt and the Queen, with them discussing fakes and forgeries. This was after he was found out as a Soviet spy, but before he was publicly named.

Now it's got me wondering what happened to him after that. But if I try to find out, I know that in no time I'll be reading up on the other Cambridge spies. Also on the subject of spies, I hope I can find some work to do that allows me to listen to Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy on BBC iPlayer tomorrow, but it's been so hectic recently I'm not getting my hopes up. It was probably LeCarré who sewed the seeds of my fascination with spies.

If none of this makes any sense to you, blame it on the fact that it's half past midnight.

Oh well, I get to sleep in until all of seven AM tomorrow.

search me!

2009-12-05T18:04:00.003+01:00

Here is a list of keywords used to find... something, I like to imagine they were not actually searching for me. And no, I don't know any scat parties in Amsterdam...

in munster, yes?
link:okcupid.com
spot that bursts with a knife
how to never be wrong gay
delft pottery that holds alcohol
famous first lines songs
mininova disadvantage
uroskin hadron
chol cameltoe
flickr tit clevage
hot teens big ass
riddle answer get along little dogies
dieting disadvantage
sinterklaas k amsterdam cab driver
porn5 eu enter
smiths meat is murder isohunt
south park unclean, unclean
famous first lines questions
good officer evening south park
scat parties in amsterdam
hermes and artemis
tom bacchus
stereotypes on the moet & chandon ad
romaine bindsla
harry mocco
fag hags and dionysus
the subtle knife film
im writing a self-help book how long should it be?
methylfenidaat hydro cloride
holy dirt blogspot
dionysus and fag hags
the subtle knife movie
subtle knife lyric quotes

for the environment

2009-12-05T17:44:00.003+01:00

Setting the dryer on my washing machine to the shortest setting and drying the laundry the rest of the way by using every inch of radiator surface doesn't just help the environment, it makes my house smell nice at the same time.

(I could turn the dryer off completely, but then the clothes would be dripping all over my floors. The heating is on anyway, of course.)

One of the three bulbs on my living room ceiling has died and I haven't replaced it. Not because I'm lazy or cheap (I am both, though), but because it's better for Mother Nature. The same goes to one of the halogen spots in the bathroom - although in that case it kept cutting out by itself and I may have killed it trying to fix it...

Now I have to run because in the few minutes they've been on, some of the fabrics have been getting pretty hot.

Don't you just hate

2009-11-26T19:21:00.003+01:00

...how just as you write something nice about a person they drive you absolutely insane?

K is hard up right now, so I've been paying for groceries whilst I'm staying here - not that I have much more to spend - and that's perfectly fine. This afternoon we were going to stop off at De Engel van Amsterdam for a drink and then get his meds from the pharmacy.

As my salary was transferred into my account today I got some money from an ATM and gave most of it to him, so he'd have some money after I leave tomorrow. Big mistake.

Once at De Engel we found out they'd be having turkey tonight. Fine, we picked up K's medication and came back to the bar. But in the meantime K just kept drinking and before the turkey arrived he was pretty damn drunk and insisting we go to the sushi bar across the street. There he spent the other half of the money I gave him - I told him in no uncertain terms that I was not going to pay for it.

Fortunately I did manage to extract him from there after only a few, exorbitantly priced, pieces and from De Engel after only a little bit of turkey and, more importantly, no booze.

But on the way back he was telling me "Could you just get me a bottle of wine? And some cigarettes?" as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that I (this goes for anyone else who spends time with him) would keep on spending money on him. After being so frugal for the last couple of weeks it's just such a waste. I already knew I'll probably be eating bread and jam for all of December after I've paid my bills...

I love him and I want to strangle him.

I love this man

2009-11-26T13:23:00.005+01:00

I always fall for the smart, gay ones.

(No, I don't mean Ann Widdecombe who you'll see first.)

Dear K

2009-11-26T11:18:00.002+01:00

Thank you for being my friend. Even though you drive me crazy sometimes and I roll my eyes a lot (more than you know: sometimes I roll them at you, but most of the time it's behind your back, at other people, who in turn give me comiserating looks) I love you a lot.

You know I find it hard to acknowledge when you say nice things about me or call me your "one succesfull project" or "savant smart" and I may say something dismissive, but I want you to know I do appreciate it. Thanks to you I get out of my house and even out of this warped mind of mine at least some of the time.

Because this is written in advance, I don't know what we'll be doing today, but if we do the old couple thing and just sit together and read and watch TV, that'll be enough for me.

blowing in the wind

2009-11-18T13:42:00.001+01:00

Christoph Niemann has a new blog post up. Go check it out, this time he does great things with leaves.

I've always been obsessed by Autumn and the leaves. Just in the last couple of months I've written (not all of it may have made it onto this blog) about the golden stream of leaves that's flowing along the canal outside K's apartment right now and has been for weeks, the shower of leaves from the tree outside his window, the conkers (horse chestnuts) falling from trees in my neighbourhood, the storms... And I've made many more remarks to friends and family about the beauty of the season.

There's a real storm blowing outside right now. Part of the fun about sleeping on K's sofa is watching the elm tree outside and today it is swaying in the wind like craz. It still hasn't quite lost all its leaves, just most of them. Until just a couple of minutes ago it was a dry storm, but now the drizzle has started. Yesterday, K told me we had a busy day today, but so far he hasn't shown much initiative to do anything other than sleep. Awake or not, it's a perfect day to be holed up inside.

If I had a clue of what to do with them, I would have given in to the impulse and collected many leaves myself. Obviously it's better to leave it to those who know... Go to the link I posted above, it's much more interesting than me rambling on and on.

Note to self: learn more about trees. At least to recognise which is which...

Compassion

2009-11-15T19:51:00.007+01:00

This is not going to solve all the world's problems at a moment's notice, but if you have a little time, please read the following:

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensible to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

It's a collaborative effort from thinkers of many religions and the result sounds strangely Unitarian Universalist to me. We did a quick check for all the seven principles of UU at the service today and it's pretty much all there.

I read the first paragraph in our service.

Ideas galore

2009-11-15T17:34:00.003+01:00

The little black book of ideas I started carrying around is starting to yield its first pearls of wisdom. Here's something I wrote down the other day:

"If you want to relax, don't drop your Xanax behind the washing machine."

You must agree that, for its profundity, that is almost on a par with Evilganome's observation on Neti pots.

woke up this morning...

2009-11-14T21:57:00.004+01:00

...but not at 11.11. The first time I opened my eyes was around 8.30 AM, but although I turned on the TV, I fell back asleep and didn't get up until 12.15 PM. When I opened the blinds, still wearing pajamas, the first thing I saw was a Zwarte Piet walking by.

Either I've missed it, or the racism debate seems to have died down. I hardly think kids are going to associate negative thoughts to the man that brings them presents and candy each year...

PS. I told you I turned on the TV. When I woke up the second time, Bear Grylls was peeing on some skis and then got naked to cross a stream.

Spelling

2009-11-06T14:32:00.006+01:00

This is why I like some of my colleagues better than others. Besides sending me this quote, he also understands the need not to buy all T.P.'s all at once - we'd read nothing else for a couple of months and then we'd have nothing left to look forward to.

Bad spelling can be lethal. For example, the greedy Seriph of Al-Yabi was cursed by a badly-educated deity and for some days everything he touched turned to Glod, which happened to be the name of a small dwarf from a mountain community hundreds of miles away who found himself magically dragged to the kingdom and relentlessly duplicated. Some two thousand Glods later the spell wore off. These days, the people of Al-Yabi are renowned for being remarkably short and bad-tempered.
-- (Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad)

P.S. we're also both saddened that there won't be too many more Discworld books.

home (at K's)

2009-11-01T18:13:00.005+01:00

Too tired to blog, here are a few New York Times articles I've managed to read during the retreat this weekend. As you can see I stayed away from current affairs and concentrated on background and opinion. The top one I've only just found and although

One Hundred Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do (Part 1)

The Carnivore’s Dilemma

French Ideal of Bicycle-Sharing Meets Reality

Ayn Rand’s Revenge

I have also started John Irving's new book, Last night in Fall River, borrowed from K. Two two-and-a-half hour train rides helped make a respectable dent into the story.

And finally, last Thursday I started something I am desperately trying not to call a journal. "This is an idea book," I wrote in it, so as to not feel guilty should I neglect it for some time. But I suspect that having no ideas is actually worse than not writing anything down.

Correction: The John Irving belongs to Eyecandy, which I didn't know when I took it to Maastricht, I asked K if it was okay to take it and he said yes. I now have permission from the actual owner to take it home with me to finish reading it.

Take the test!

2009-10-29T12:24:00.006+01:00

You know you want to.

This cartoon from Savage Chickens has been slightly altered by yours truly to allow others to take the test. My apologies to Doug. You can check out the original here.

PS. I need to come up with a costume. We'll be at the European UU retreat in Maastricht this weekend and I know there will be others with costumes.

Perhaps I'll get some scrubs and go as Zombie Neurologist.

stationery

2009-10-29T11:40:00.000+01:00

balance

2009-10-28T22:04:00.001+01:00

Paycheck's late - my only account that's not in the red is at the blood bank...

23

2009-10-17T16:45:00.002+02:00

That's the number of ducks in a row sunning themselves in the afternoon sun across the canal.

A spring in my step

2009-10-16T20:50:00.004+02:00

It sounds incredible, but the effect of my new orthotics was practically instantaneous. I'm not counting Wednesday after I picked them up, because my heel was already getting sore by that time.

However, yesterday and today I've worn them without any significant discomfort. There is some low-level throbbing, but it's almost not enough to stand out against background radiation. And I don't seem to have trouble getting used to them. I was warned it takes three weeks for your feet to get used to them and advised to start by wearing them an hour a day. I did, but after that hour they weren't bothering me and I just kept them in.

In fact, I didn't like not wearing them at night (I've been wearing spa slippers recently) enough to find my trusty fluffy camel slippers, because they are stiff enough and fit closely enough to be able to wear the inlays.

A change of scenery

2009-10-12T18:28:00.004+02:00

Isn't autumn, or fall if you prefer, a wonderful season? A few weeks ago it started to get a bit nippy in the mornings. Then came the annual conker-dodge (I must admit to admiring the wonderful dull thud when one lands), combined with high winds for extra excitement. To top it off we've now had a couple of weekends (it would be weekends, wouldn't it?) of torrential rains.

The water reached the bottom of the canoe-route shield on the far wall of the canal on Saturday. The sign was put up in May but I haven't seen a canoe all summer. Possibly the fact that the sign tells them to get out and carry the thing because the bridge is too low - something they should be able to figure out even without the rainfall narrowing the gap even further - has deterred them.

It's a lot quieter on the streets, too. Oh the joys of living in a town where spring is heralded not by birds or flowers, but by the shutters of Japanese cameras... The street now looks almost the way it did when I moved in eleven months ago. The only difference is a few more leaves on the trees.

High heels and pills

2009-10-11T12:32:00.004+02:00

This is such a drag. I've spent most of my time since Friday night either sitting in this chair or in bed and my foot still hurt like hell when I got up this morning. That's what you get for having plantar fasciitis, rest doesn't stop the pain, it's at its most painful during the first steps.

The tech who measured me for special inlays for my shoes (I'm picking them up this Wednesday) was a lot more conclusive than the doctor. She poked the painful spot straightaway - and with enough force to make me jump - and asked "Did your doctor really say it was a heel spur?" So I'm sticking to her diagnosis. The treatment, such as it is, is the same anyway: inlays are the fisrt option, the pain of shots of anti-inflammatory drugs is said to be so great that it's not an option and surgery isn't very succesful.

Since the doctor also sounded very sceptical of my use of anti-depressants (she only gave me a scrip for three months and made me promise to think about my continued use) I wasn't sure about her assessment of the anti-inflammatory shot, but wikipedia does say the same. Still, a short burst of intense pain might weigh up favourably to the continued pain of the fasciitis for some people.

For myself, mostly it's been getting better and times like this morning are the exception. I've started wearing high heeled shoes on a regular basis, to take the weight off my heels and onto my front feet. I had to learn how to walk in them at age 36!

I've also decided to do stretching excercises, both on the tendon in my foot and the calf muscle. This might help against the pain. Obviously in my rush to get to the bathroom this morning, in forgot.

Slash dot quote

2009-09-22T22:41:00.002+02:00

in the cock department

Pray tell, on which floor can I find that particular department?

I'm going to turn my mother in

2009-09-19T18:23:00.004+02:00

For endangering my life and that of my siblings by taking us to petting zoos and letting us touch the animals. She also let us play in the dirt and said it was a good way to build up our resistance.*

Other than that she's always been great and I wished her many more years on her birthday today.

* Perhaps I should take it up again, considering my present state.

Welcome to my living room

2009-09-19T13:18:00.004+02:00

That's where you'll find me for at least most of today. I've got a nasty cough and I'm feeling quite sorry for myself. It feels like I have a fever, but the thermometer says otherwise. Witness for the Prosecution has just started, so I'll be in my comfy chair all day, wearing my pajamas, with the old iPhone, remote control and scarf I'm crocheting close to hand. The new series of Merlin starts today, too.

the American health care system does not exist

2009-08-30T22:11:00.007+02:00

"In many ways, foreign health-care models are not really "foreign" to America, because our crazy-quilt health-care system uses elements of all of them. For Native Americans or veterans, we're Britain: The government provides health care, funding it through general taxes, and patients get no bills. For people who get insurance through their jobs, we're Germany: Premiums are split between workers and employers, and private insurance plans pay private doctors and hospitals. For people over 65, we're Canada: Everyone pays premiums for an insurance plan run by the government, and the public plan pays private doctors and hospitals according to a set fee schedule. And for the tens of millions without insurance coverage, we're Burundi or Burma: In the world's poor nations, sick people pay out of pocket for medical care; those who can't pay stay sick or die."

Washington Post, 5 Myths About Health Care Around the World

Also interesting - and related inasmuch as it tries to explain why people continue to believe in patent untruths about the Obama health plan, but interesting just for the mechanisms it mentions - is the Newsweek article Why We Believe Lies, Even When We Learn The Truth.

Did I mention?

2009-08-27T19:13:00.004+02:00

That Ilse is absolutely a-fucking-dorable? ('scuse French)

Not even two days old but what a gorgeous baby. Yes I'm prejudiced, but I don't usually think very young infants look good. And this one does.

For now she has a crib on her parents' bedroom, but the nursery has been customized with lots of pictures of kikker (literally frog), a children's book character her mother loves.

Dad had pictures printed on the curtains and bedlinen, there are stuffed toys of just about every one of kikker's friends in the books. Her father has taken the music box and drawstring from a regular little bear and put it inside a kikker toy. It plays Somewhere Over The Rainbow, which - thankfully has given me some reprieve from Any Dream Will Do.

He has even taken off the figures from the mobile over the play pen in the living room and replaced them with kikker figures. But the pièce de résistance is the alphabet sampler that my sister-in-law cross-stitched, with a kikker incorporated into every letter, which hsngs framed over the commode. It's probably 50 centimeters wide by 70 high.

I bought her a little winter jacket to grow into and a soft tabby kitten toy. It feels like fabric but it is plastic, which - to my inexperienced mind - makes it quite practical around the droolly little monsters.

Not that Ilse drooled, no sir. She wasn't very awake either, but at least she was drool-free. And so tiny. She must get that from her mum's side, on our side the babies were all monsters. My little sister was 4100 grams (9 lbs).

SubtleAunt

2009-08-26T00:28:00.004+02:00

As of ten PM, two-and-a-half hours ago, I'm officially an aunt.

Welcome, Ilse, your birth is such a momentous occasion that I haven't even asked your Daddy if any little brothers or sisters you will get in the future, will also be named after search engines (Ilse is exclusively Dutch, I believe). I don't think your parents are up to considering the addition of a little Google or Yahoo just yet.

The woman who wouldn’t wear sandals

2009-08-24T10:34:00.000+02:00

For the last few weeks I’ve practically worn anything but!

I’ve even overcome the fear of showing my toes have stopped wearing socks. (I still think it’s acceptable if you make sure the colour matches/is coordinated – and is never white.)

Morning commute

2009-08-20T07:31:00.000+02:00

Wednesday morning, a typical Dutch mini-summer has set in again yesterday, yet there's still a bit of refreshing crispness in the air. In half an hour it may be gone, it might not be back tomorrow.

A fat woman is sitting on a fold-down seat in the 'balcony' area between two compartiments of the train. Her crutch is leaning against a wall, underneath that says "Priority" to wheelchair users.

Her ticket has already been checked by the conductor who came by a few minutes ago. The people she can see in the compartinents are all facing away from her.

She rummages in her purse and pulls out a small spray can. She aims it at her wrists and her neck below the ears. Then more rummaging. Replacing the canister is a bigger one now and she lifts her shirt.

I miss

2009-08-18T21:54:00.008+02:00

Actual text of an e-mail message I sent K this afternoon:

I miss

Church.

And you.

But mostly church.

back to black-and-white

2009-08-18T20:56:00.004+02:00

After I got home, threw off my clothes, put on something a bit more comfortable, had a couple of sandwiches and sat down in front of the TV in my comfy chair with my feet on the coffee table, with a scarf I'm crocheting in my lap.

I only recently discovered that a channel I rarely watch (it's called Cultura) was broadcasting Leonard Bernstein's Young People's Concerts. The one being shown today was a tribute to Shostakovich on his birthday, playing his ninth symphony and giving pointers as to why it was funny.

They're entertaining and educational, especially for those who have had no formal training in music-appreciation before. Do any of my US readers remember seeing these? (The re-runs, obviously.)

Unfortunately I couldn't find a video for tonight's episode ("I don't know much about classical music but I do know what I like." - I like Russian composers), but this is part of the one I watched last night, it's an introduction to jazz, much like Peter and the Wolf is for classical music:

Just a perfect day

2009-08-18T18:25:00.005+02:00

Just when you thought it was all behind you, when that annoying colleague who acts like he's thirteen and is less suited for the job goes home so you can finally concentrate on your work without his inane prattle... that's when fate strikes.

I did get a little bit of work done, but it was getting pretty late, so I happily went home.

At the very moment I entered the station they started announcing a points- and signals failure. No trains going anywhere whatsoever. Because this is the main nexus for all rail travel in the country, all of The Netherlands should be a mess by now. This happens every time the temperature approaches 30 degrees Celcius (86 Fahrenheit) and metal parts expand at different speeds.

I knew there's a bus between home and work - I sometimes catch it for the one stop between home and the station. Today I'll get a taste of the other four million nine hundred ninetynine thousand nine hundred and ninetynine on this route.

So, if you're wondering where I am: I'm on a bus trying not to be sick and to ignore the pain in my foot.

Midnight questions

2009-08-17T22:53:00.004+02:00

You know the ones, you're in bed and a question pops up that has nothing to do with anything you were thinking of before and is unrelated to anything that happened to you that day.

Tonight's prize goes to: "Was there a Lady Baden Powell?" Which was followed immediately by the following conversation:

"Good afternoon, Lady Baden Powell, is your husband in?"

"No, I'm sorry, Inspector, he left early this morning. Scouting for boys, you see?"

"I see indeed, Lady Baden Powell. If you'll excuse me... Constable!"

The good Samaritan

2009-08-10T19:56:00.003+02:00

After what happened this weekend nobody can ever again accusing me of not doing selfless things for other people.

This Saturday I was walking to the station to catch the train to Amsterdam to see K and A, when I found a season ticket to Ajax lying in the middle of the pavement. Like most of these things nowadays, it's a credit-card type thing.

I checked the name on the back, but couldn't make out the same name on any of the nearby doors. However a quick search on the ol'iPhone told me that they were playing at home to RKC that night. At home means in Amsterdam.

So I headed towards the station again - I still managed to miss my preferred train - and searched the phone book online. There was only one listing under that surname, so I tried it and left a message on the answerphone. I was hoping that I'd find a cell phone number, so that I could arrange to hand the ticket over before the match...

The next thing I heard was Sunday evening, when the mother of this guy called me, saying she'd like to come pick it up. So we arranged for her to stop by tonight. Apparently her son was at the match, or rather he was at the stadium, unable to get in. She brought me a small bouquet as a thank-you.

Why is all this so remarkable? I am a Feyenoord supporter. Ajax are our arch-enemy. Yet I hardly even entertained the idea of snapping the thing and throwing it in some bin... ;-)

catching up

2009-08-08T17:47:00.004+02:00

Good evening and welcome from a sunny (slightly watery sunshine) Amsterdam. I've just installed myself behind K's computer and I'm watching Slumdog Millionaire. Unfortunately K and our friend A from Denmark (via Geneva) are not here yet, dear old Ellen (that's his car, for the inattentive) has had a bit of a crisis. Her top wouldn't come up anymore (I think he said up, they were at a car-wash when it happened, so that would make most sense) and she was making awful noises. So let's take some time to catch up with my week:

I'm still pretty full from last night, so I'm happy to take it easy. The whole team from work went to an all-you-can eat Asian buffet restaurant and although I started out slowly - the sushi was good, although there was no tuna, mostly salmon, squid and shrimp, but then there was the sateh, the spicy fish dish, the dark beef, the sweet and sour pork - I only had a little bit of everything, but suffice to say in the end I was stuffed.

During the dinner I realised I had missed a couple of phone calls (I was taking breaks between loading up plates, of course) and it turned out to be K, telling me he was buying his ex, R, a new computer and would I like his old one that R has been using? Considering the age of my old computer, it wasn't a difficult decision.

Then I felt a great stab in my chest. Fortunately it turned out to be the underwire from my bra, which had snapped. I survived with a minor scratch. On the breast, though, but hey, I don't mind a little kink anyway. ;-) Actually, the whole thing seems to fit better now I've removed the wires.

My direct boss has been on holiday for three weeks, but she'll be back at work on Monday and she did come to the dinner; and dropped me off at a train station afterwards. On the way she was telling me about a strange text message that she had received, from a number she nor her telephone recognised. When we stopped at the station she showed it to me:

Heyy darling, I've almost got you and when I do, I won't be letting you go for a while. I'll tease you for a couple of days, but I am sure that I'll will get you into bed after that. I will give you some very hot nights, making you sweat like never before. Love, The Mexican 'Flu

"We could just dial back," I suggested. So here we were, giggling in her car like a couple of teenagers, listening to someone pick up the phone and say "Hello? [boss' name]?" just before we hung up. I didn't recognise the voice and she didn't either. But obviously it was someone who knew her, had her number in his phone and had kids (we heard them in the background). Then she got another text message, asking "Have you lost my number already? [name]" It turned out to be a former colleague of hers, who had left the company entirely a few months ago.

I just took some blood pressure readings on the machine I bought - and promptly leant to K who was diagnosed with extreme high rather than my just high blood pressure. My readings at the blood bank were probably down to nerves, because I just measured 124 over 71, baby! Now all I have to do is learn to relax enough before they stick needles in me. Honestly, I've never been afraid of needles, I think it's more fear to fail the blood pressure test than the drainage of blood that causes the bad scores.

I finally remembered to bring the 50 euro book vouchers K bought me a some time ago, unless we decide to do something else - like go to the spa, I might stop by the American Book Center tomorrow and blow the lot! For some reason I woke up at 7 AM this morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so at least my legs are shaved in case we do go to the spa. Unlike the one we shared with A and her friend in Spa itself in April. It's one of those things I put off. I always wear long trousers, so it's not really that important, it might be a bit embarrassing if I had a one-night stand, but the odds of that are slim.

Famous first lines - outro

2009-08-02T21:25:00.000+02:00

And here are the long-awaited results:

01. Ups and Downs - Rufus Wainwright
02. You Can Sleep While I Drive - Melissa Etheridge
03. Under My Thumb - Rolling Stones
04. I Wanna Take You Higher - Duran Duran
05. Tunnel of Love - Bruce Springsteen
06. Strip It Down - Manic Street Preachers
07. Seductive Barry - Pulp
08. Younger Girl - The Lovin' Spoonful
09. One Step Too Far - Faithless
10. Communist Quiz - Monty Python
11. Who Left The Lights Off, Baby? - Guillemots
12. If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher
13. Ticket To Ride - The Carpenters
14. Help Is Around The Corner - Coldplay
15. Warrior - Steve Earle
16. Witch In The Ditch - Erasure
17. O Holy Night - South Park
18. Mama Liked The Roses - Elvis Presley
19. Haven't We Lost Enough? - Crosby, Stills & Nash
20. Think (Freedom) - Aretha Franklin

happiness

2009-08-02T17:35:00.006+02:00

I'm at K's, having just had farewell lunch with P. M and P's gorgeous Brazilian friend were there too. Saying goodbye... it wasn't easy, but I think I'm at peace with it. I'm feeling pretty serene at the moment. Or perhaps it's a relative feeling because the rest of this city is still suffering from the hangover from Gay Pride.

K wasn't at the lunch, which was just down the street from his place. I woke him when I got their text message saying lunch was on, but he said he was too tired. He was out partying until eleven last night - which is quite late for someone who often falls asleep at seven - and then talking to people in the US. He was chatting with his mother until 2.30 AM.

After K said he was too tired I took a shower - the bathroom in his apartment can only be reached through his bedroom - but I forgot to bring the clothes I wanted to put on today. So after the shower I put my pajamas back on and fetched them. By the time I got back, K was in the bath.

Fortunately neither one of us is shy around the other...

Here's another great blog I found on the NY Times website, Maira Kaiman's And the Pursuit of Happiness. I adore the text and the pictures, it's so rich! Have a look, I know you'll enjoy it. It also matches my current mood perfectly.

That reminds me that there are at least two projects for the coming weekend(s) that I want to drag, sorry take people to: the Hermitage in Amsterdam and the Complete Rembrandt exhibition.

PS. Canal Parade part 2 - with pictures - will follow when I get home and am able to post the pictures properly. Blogger won't let me upload from the iPhone, probably because they're too large.

PPS. When I started writing this, K was on the sofa, reading. Now he's asleep with the book splayed out on his chest.

Canal Parade part 1

2009-08-01T14:48:00.004+02:00

The Canal Parade is in full swing now. The first boats to come by were from the City of Amsyerdam. The first one had dancers, the second a marriage in full swing. I knew that Mayor Cohen would marry five Dutch-American couples, not that it would happen during the parade!

Congratulations to Hans and Ira, whose nuptuals we witnessed and of course the other four couples.

This in honour of our fourhundred year relationship with America, specifically the New York area.

Amsterdam is ready

2009-08-01T12:27:00.005+02:00

The boats are two- and three- EDIT: and four-thick at the sides of the canal, people are standing on the sides and bridges. Some have brought fold-out chairs, others have decorated boats or railings with garlands and balloons, pink being the predominant colour. Lots of boats are still circling the canals, soaking up the atmosphere. Down in front of me eight guys in a boat have donned identical red shorts and white muscle shirts emblazoned with "Gaywatch".

The Gay Pride Canal Parade will start in 90 minutes. The diversity of the people out there is encouraging; it may be a gay event, but we're all invited to the party and we're going to celebrate, damn it!

I'm at P and M's, looking down on all the commotion. All the windows are open and the noise coming in is already impressive. All the pllants have been cleared from the window sills so that people may sit in them. It's just the three of us so far, but P invited everybody he knew in The Netherlands, because this is also his farewell party. On Tuesday he'll set off for a trip to Bristol, London, New York, San Diego and LA before returning to Sydney.

Just witnessing the break-up of their seven-year relationship is painful. They're both trying to stay civil about it, but you can sense all the hurt and anger just below the surface. To be honest I never planned to stay more than one night here. Under the guise of taking the drunk home, I'm hoping to go over to K's with him and stay the night there.

P can be fun, but even on the eve of his departure there's only so much of him that I can handle. Last night I had to make the sofa bed and actually get in it before - eventually - he gave up and went to bed. Apparently he woke up M and talked at him for another hour and a half... But I will miss him.

I'll wrap my toes in cotton wool

2009-07-29T07:42:00.004+02:00

It just occurred to me that my toes may be next on the list (calf, ankle, heel) of injuries. Of course with my luck, if I did wrap them up, I'd probably develop a cotton allergy...

(Don't mind me, I missed my train and my foot hurts because I had to walk to the station. It turns out the bus I wanted to take - and the next one - doesn't run in July and August.)

Forget about Blu Ray

2009-07-28T16:14:00.006+02:00

I want a blue rat. Isn't he cute?

Also, how many blue M&Ms do I have to eat for the same effect? Breaking my spine seems a bit too much work to achieve this effect.

Hat-tip: Joe

In which I get quizzical

2009-07-28T15:59:00.004+02:00

Why is it that Eggheads is broadcast five times a week on BBC2 and University Challenge (or even Mastermind) once a week for eight to twelve weeks a year?

a most embarrassing anecdote

2009-07-28T09:49:00.005+02:00

I was lying in bed last night, getting quite itchy because someone confided in me with a secret and I was aching to tell someone, or at least blog about it - but I wasn't sure if I dared.

This is what I have decided. I will blog about it, but I will try to protect the identity of the embarrassed and pick a random day in July for it to be published. So when you read this, I'll have written this weeks or even months ago, I'm not saying. This is what they* confided in me:

It starts when my friend goes out drinking with friends and gets quite drunk. They're not feeling too well and must have eaten something that disagrees with them, because they have to make a quick dash to the bathroom several times. It seemed like a good decision to get back home and take it easy.

Unfortunately this person had an accident in the cab. I don't mean that the taxi driver crashed the car, I mean that my friend shat their pants. In fact, the whole back seat was covered in it. The driver pulls over, demands money, but my friend only has maybe ten euros more than the fare on them, so they get shouted at on the sidewalk in the middle of the night.

After having to walk the remainder of the journey home, they dispose of their now-dried jeans by means of a baking tray and a cigarette lighter.

Now I said I've been sworn to secrecy, but that's only to protect them from their current set of friends. Because what do you do when you're were this embarrassed? You phone all of your family and old friends back home to tell them about it...

* using "they" is easier than saying "(s)he" all the time certainly less clunky than "he or she". In this case, I believe grammar has to yield to style and readability.

Mysterons

2009-07-26T14:21:00.008+02:00

Joe's trip down the memory lane of 80's music has landed him on something called the Earons, can't say I've ever heard of them, but it does remind me of this:

"This is the voice of the Mysterons. We know that you can hear us, Earthmen."

I obviously didn't get to watch Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons when it was first shown on TV in the 1960's, but the BBC repeated it many years later.

At least SPECTRUM, the organisation that protects Earth, doesn't steep to such gimmicks as naming all their members by decimals (although goodness knows what the Mysterons call each other). Instead they use such perfectly normal names as Captain Scarlet, Captain Blue, Captain Black, Captain Magenta, Captain Ochre, etc. SPECTRUM is lead by Colonel White. There is an insidious rumour that he is so named because white comprises all the colours of the spectrum, but that is frankly too absurd to even contemplate...

By the way, here's the definitive reason humans shouldn't go to Mars:

The Mysteron base may be seen in the above clip, the Mysterons themselves however are invisible. Another one of those rumours says that creator Gerry Anderson didn't want to be proven wrong when Martians turned out to be three feet tall and green.

But if you must have some music, why not try Portishead's Mysterons:

ouch! - again...

2009-07-26T13:48:00.006+02:00

In the last year, I have had three lower leg injuries that have caused me mobility-problems. Fortunately none were serious, but they were painful and required rest that I was impatient to take.

First a whiplash from running to catch a train, it recurred several times because I didn't take it easy long enough, then a fall when trying to get on my bike with an inch of ice on the street, twisting my ankle and finally for some unknown reason I woke up last Tuesday with pain underneath my heel whenever I stand on it. None of them, as far as I can tell, have anything to do with my weight.

When the whiplash recurred for the third time - again train-related, I sprinted up the steps on a double-decker train - I went to the "Zorgwinkel" (Care shop), a place you can rent all kinds of aids, such as crutches, wheelchairs, bathing chairs, supports to put on the wall next to your toilet etc. In fact they gave me a pair of crutches to borrow, no fee at all.

Between coming home from work Friday at six PM and around 4 PM on Saturday, I hardly walked at all, except for pottering about the house a little, resting my foot. And when I went for groceries it felt great. When I came back from the short trip (it's less than ten minutes' walk to the supermarket), my heel was hurting again every time I put a little weight on it.

So I have come to the conclusion that it needs rest and have just bought myself a pair of crutches. They're not standard grey, but come in bronze and blue - I went for bronze, the main reason being that I have too many blue things as it is. Plus I wear lots of blue jeans and if I'm going to use crutches, they might as well stand out.

It's the holiday season, I almost wish I could get a spot in the underground car park at work for a couple of weeks. But that involves too much paperwork to bother with.

And yes, I will go to see the doctor over this foot, but they're on holiday too and won't be back until next week.

coffee

2009-07-25T16:13:00.006+02:00

One of my colleagues is eagerly expecting the opening of a Starbucks at the train station next to our office building.*

She's the first to admit she doesn't like coffee.

According to another colleague, the reason there were no Starbucks in The Netherlands until now, is that they get supplied by Douwe Egberts and that deal includes that DE gets exclusivity in this country. But apparently something has changed.

Perhaps it's the work of the husband of one of the few families to attend our little UU Fellowship in Amsterdam. I have to admit I almost laughed in his face when he told me his job is to develop Starbucks in The Netherlands. I didn't think it would take off. I still don't. Or maybe that's wishful thinking.

But now my favourite catholic priest had posted about the very same company unbranding, that is starting little coffee shops under different names so that there's no obvious connection to the big brand. In the USA, that is - over here they don't seem to have such qualms...

PS. The tiles at the station are more an off-white, but there's a tinted roof overhead making it look in certain spots like you're at a swimming pool.

PPS. This is directly across from the soon-to-open Starbucks: a perfectly adequate coffee shop. Come to think of it, it might not be such a bad idea to have Starbucks there. I will take great delight in buying an good cup of actual coffee at CaféT and enjoying it in front of Starbucks... Of course in the bottom left of the sign it says in green letters Simon Lévelt. They're the ones I buy my coffee from at home, there's a shop just down the street. It seems tiny, but they've got everything. About a dozen of different beans and they grind it to your specifications.

You can see some of the green glass in this picture.

* EDIT: I should have mentioned this is the first one in The Netherlands outside Schiphol Airport and the Nike HQ, the latter isn't open to the general public at all and the former requires passport check.

I'm never wrong anyway

2009-07-21T20:32:00.015+02:00

But I found this video on Joe.My.God. to help all you lesser beings.

This is a valuable lesson on How To Never Be Wrong. As an extra bonus, the example used in the video is gay marriage, so now you'll never have to worry about being tongue-tied when one of those pesky homosexuals starts going on about how they should have equal rights.

Whatever...

Monday, Monday

2009-07-20T07:17:00.003+02:00

Welcome to another Monday morning with MJ (that's me, not the dead guy).

I've just picked up my umbrella at the station's ticket office, where I left it on Saturday when I bought the ticket to Amsterdam. Fortunately the weather has been good.

Until this morning. At 6.45AM the rain outside my window was pretty heavy - and I was worried. By the time I left at just after seven it had cleared up, though, so I was mildly optimistic about my day again. Then of course, after thirty seconds outside, it started to drizzle again and I automatically planned my walk to just get to the next safe haven; the covered turning circle in front of the locksmith's, the overhanging first floor over the ground floor temping agency, the corner that is cut away on the football (soccer) magazine building and funally a handful of arches over private doorways. From there it was out into the open for the intersection, dodging the drips coming off the dilapidated concrete rostrum over some shabby shopfronts and a quick dash across the bus station.

I described when and where I'd lost the umbrella to the lady at the counter of the ticket office, described it and then noticed it was standing in the corner, directly next to her. I pointed this out, but with hindsight this msy have made her suspicious for a minute, because she said something about having to find out if it was logged in the computer. She rummaged around in a cupboard behind her - no computer in sight - and then took me by surprise, took the umbrella and stuck it through the small hole at the bottom of the window - steel point first.

Now all I have to do is remember to take it off this train with me...

Guess what he was in town for

2009-07-19T22:00:00.002+02:00

There's one thing I forgot to mention about last Saturday: there was a German car parked on the Singel in Amsterdam with license plates starting with the following foue letters:

CO CK

Famous first lines

2009-07-19T19:56:00.008+02:00

Following countless other bloggers, I shall give you the exclusive opportunity to play my version of the first-lines-from-my-iPod game. You will get two weeks to name as many songs and artists as you can. Be warned: one of them is not actually a song!

The rules are simple: no skipping, no matter how obvious - or, more likely, embarrassing - the song is, except for artists that have already got a song in the list.

01. I'm just a floozy, an old-fashioned hussy
02. Come on, baby, let's get out of this town
03. Under my thumb, the girl who once had me down
04. Beat is getting stronger
05. Fat man sittin' on a little stool
06. Ain't no fun at the Government Hall
07. Here in the night love takes control
08. She's one of those girls who seems to come in the spring
09. You can sleep forever, but still you will be tired
10. Good evening. Tonight is indeed a unique moment in the history of television
11. Oh, love, get out of my head
12. If I could turn back time
13. I think I'm gonna be sad, I think it's today
14. Stuck here in the middle of nowhere
15. This is the best time if the day, the dawn, the final cleansing breath unsullied yet by acrid fume or death's cacophony, the rank refuse of unchained ambition
16. No, I would never step into your shoes
17. O holy night, the stars are brightly shining
18. Oh, Mama liked the roses
19. I was with you, you were alone
20. Think! (think!) Think! (think!) Think! (think!) Think! (think!) Think! (think!)

Good luck.

In charge

2009-07-19T19:48:00.004+02:00

Was it last week that I posted how well-rested I felt? I wonder how I'll feel in the morning tomorrow.

I'm still on my way home from K's, I guess I'll be there around 8.30, well on time to wind down and go to sleep. But I'm a little nervous, seeing as my boss is off work for the next three weeks, the other senior employee on our team has his two-weekly day off and we're struggling with a huge backlog thanks to a major failure in our most important system.

We caught up a little at the end of last week - I worked five extra hours in the last three days despite taking Wednesday afternoon off, I came back in the evening - but there's still some way to go. I'm determined not to be nervous over our morning team talk. It's nothing serious anyway.

But I'd like to be awake and at work on time...

I love it

2009-07-19T16:05:00.002+02:00

...when people on blogs I comment on tell me "You're not very subtle".

Duh! Check your dictionaries.

mouse update

2009-07-19T15:44:00.004+02:00

K has caught another three since the one Sunshine trapped in the toaster and there are at least another three around the apartment. One of them fled out of the apartment last night as soon as K opened the door, though, so I think it's getting less attractive for them.

He blocked one hole behind the dishwasher and now they have to go around the kitchen cabinets, out in the open. As the one I mentioned fled, I was keeping an eye on another two. I was fascinated because they seem to be of different species. One is like the mouse pictured above, which, apparently is a common house mouse. All of the others I've seen have a much shorter body, they're almost like a semi-circle of fur, with a slightly pointy front for the nose.

K asked me to stop by the hardware store for some mouse traps yesterday, but they were already closed by the time I got to Amsterdam. He's got some pieces of duct tape lying sticky side up on the counter top, but they don't seem to stop the mice much less stop them.

Although... I haven't seen any of them around yet today.

she keeps her Moet & Chandon

2009-07-19T14:40:00.006+02:00

Today is K's last birthday before the big Four-Oh. Since I'm not sure how keen he'll be on celebrating that one, I decided to bring him a bottle of champagne to mark this one. By some good fortune he happened to have strawberries to make it complete, so we had a lazy champagne breakfast.

He's left me now to have brunch with a brand manager from Heineken. He thought she might want to have some one-on-one time and that's fine by me - I can finish watching True Blood. I suppose I could've downloaded it at home, but he's already got it on his Apple TV and I'm lazy. "Naturally sedentary", K said just this morning, one of the nicer ways he put it - he doesn't deserve me as his fag bangle, he truly doesn't.

Last night K, myself and his ex R went to check out the refurbished - finally! - April. It does look pretty good, although I don't know why it had to take that long... (apparently the wait wasn't all about redecorating) After a couple of drinks K and I went home to watch Wim Wenders' Until the End of the World. I saw two out of three parts, that's three hours of it, before my eyes started to droop.

K got his second wind and went out again. There was a drag show at Prik that he promised somebody he'd watch. One of the guys behind the bar, I think. I was just too tired. I heard him com back and then a few times when he came in for a drink or some food (he doesn't eat during the day, he raids the fridge at night), but other than that, I slept straight through until my normal weekend time of 10AM.

It's better out than yesterday, which is good because I left my umbrella at the station at home. I put it in the corner when I was buying a ticket and left without it. Fortunately it didn't rain after that, although it was cloudy and grey. Right now the sun's shining and there is a parade of boats out on the canal behind me. It's about half canal boats full of tourists and half smaller boats filled with locals.

Right now I can hear one of the canal boats take a left turn (it's very tight, you can hear the motor working hard, but those things can turn around their own axis) and the clip-clopping of hooves from the horse pulling one of the oh-so-touristy, I mean romantic, carriages that goes around town.

PS. I know Moet is not spelled correctly, but I don't know how to do diacritical characters on K's (or anybody's) iMac...

I'm writing a self-help book

2009-07-16T20:03:00.001+02:00

It's all about helping people to not throw away money on useless self-help books.
Synopsis: Don't be a gullible idiot.

Prima Donna needs work

2009-07-14T21:20:00.003+02:00

K e-mailed this morning, saying the New York Times had been pretty rough on Rufus Wainwright in their review of his opera Prima Donna. And that for a home-town boy.

I e-mailed him back that I would look at it in a minute, because the main system that I work on was bound to crash again soon - it's been doing so off-and-on since Friday, in fact it reminds me of another Rufus Wainwright song, called Ups and Downs, which borrows a theme from Mussorgsky's Boris Godunov...

But even before reading the article, I answered him that it would be a miracle for any modern opera (especially by a first-time composer) to get a positive review from critics who are as petrified as the rest of the opera scene seems to be.

Pretty soon the whole thing did indeed crash again and, running out of other things to do, I took the time to read the article. And it is not as bad as I expected. At all.

"I wish I could report that “Prima Donna” fulfilled his ambitions for writing a fresh and personal new opera." Anthony Tommasini writes. And "Mr. Wainwright’s score and his attitude toward the drama often seem muddled, as if he were relying too much on his keen musical and theatrical instincts lest he overthink and impede his imagination."

But he also acknowledges Rufus' talent "He certainly brings deep talents and potential to the challenge" and concedes "There are inspired touches and disarmingly beautiful passages in this mysterious, stylistically eclectic work."

I also love his analysis of the fall-out with the Met over writing this opera in French: "A Philip Glass opera in Sanskrit is an American work, but not a Wainwright opera in French?" I believe the critic's name is a smoke-screen. This should be said with a Yiddishe accent.

Certain remarks bode well for the album Rufus is planning to bring out next, just himself and a piano. "Some of the most captivating moments are the simplest musically." That's the Rufus I know!

"The opera ends with a tender aria for Régine, a long-spun melody with a gentle accompaniment riff: in other words, a Wainwright song. Would that there had been more of them."

Not quite a miracle, but not bad at all...

PS. I would be very much mistaken if this is not that aria, Les feux d'artifice t'appellent (The fireworks are calling you). It starts at 1:50. There's a couple of typical Rufus O Shit!s in there, but it was the first time he performed it (and he does have a tendency sometimes to get lost in his own music - I can't blame him, so do I.)

well-rested

2009-07-13T06:30:00.004+02:00

And good morning to you!

Where along the line did I go from not being able to fall asleep on Sunday evening to waking up at insanely early hours on Monday morning? Not that it's not an improvement, because at least I get to start the week feeling rested, but waking up at 4.37 AM is just so unlike me.

Fortunately I did manage to go back to sleep and catch another hour before my alarm went off, but then as soon as it did I was up. This is not normal, I have the alarm set to go off at 5-minute intervals over the space of half an hour to make sure I don't go back to sleep. That's the norm for me.

We'll see tomorrow...

cold turkey

2009-07-11T16:02:00.002+02:00

If only I could stop eating altogether. It would be so much easier than practising moderation...

scrap

2009-07-10T19:17:00.004+02:00

I found a scrap of paper in the back of a notepad:

When they came for the communists, I said nothing,
for I was no communist.
When they came for the social-democrats I said nothing,
for I was no social-democrat.
When they came for the union-workers, I said nothing,
for I was no union-worker.
When they came for the Jews I said nothing,
for I was no Jew.

When they came for me, there was noone left to say anything.

-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer --

dieting disadvantage

2009-07-10T19:07:00.003+02:00

It's not fair that the more weight you lose, the less you can eat and the more you have to excercise to keep losing more...

alright in the end

2009-07-10T19:03:00.004+02:00

When editing the details of the ebooks you've just downloaded onto your iPhone, remember that Charles Dickens' name ends with an s, not a d...

(Any book recommendations? Anything roughly before World War I is fair game.)

Rain

2009-07-05T00:25:00.003+02:00

Why does the UK get the fuckng thunderstorms? I wanna be ablr to sleep at night

UPDATE (the morning after): I was slightly tipsy last night, it seems... No hangover or anything - but then I've been far more drunk than that without suffering ill effects.

I've been watching Tru Blood episodes back to back this morning, picking up at the end of number two where I fell asleep last night. I'm on episode six now... It's strange, I can't say I like it, but I keep on watching.

Sleepy

2009-07-04T22:55:00.003+02:00

Slightly drunk, at K's. He just dumped a mouse out the window. He caught it in a bread box, apparently. At least it won't be keeping me up tonight.

We went to the Fourth of July picnic at the American School of The Hague. I even had a cheeseburger made by marines. K asked several of them what they thought of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. The answer ranged from downright defensive to only slightly less defensive...

Ellen broke down again. I think there's something shaken loose around the starter engine, K thinks it could be the alarm system interfering with the electrics. The tow truck guy was kinda cool and K turned twelve again when he got to ride in the front. We got a Renault Clio whilst Ellen is going to be delivered to K's regular repair guy on Monday. Oh well...

UPDATE: there's more than one mouse.

do you like my new hat?

2009-07-03T18:32:00.003+02:00

from the office BBQ last night

socks 'n' sandals

2009-07-01T07:37:00.003+02:00

Both are black. I tore up my heels yesterday, having accidentally put on the wrong shoes, so I wanted something comfortable today. And -nothing will make me show my toes at work.

After I had packed my heels with gauze and tape last night - I took a taxi from the station, I couldn't bear to walk another step - I remembered I was planning to do my hair. The awkward walking up to the point of catching the cab, plus the strain of leaning over the tub to rinse out all the dye, has left my legs and feet pr etty sore.

get thee to a mummery

2009-06-30T20:56:00.001+02:00

I don't. like. mimes.

Nothing personal, I just don't.

Waiting for Pet Shop Boys

2009-06-22T20:43:00.002+02:00

Here they are!

Wogan's wisdom

2009-06-15T22:03:00.003+02:00

A nugget from a BBC trailer featuring radio and TV legend Terry Wogan:

Who said that time flies like an arrow?
Fruit flies like a banana.

He was the first person I saw on TV when I went to England. Having watched his talkshow for years before that, I felt right at home.

I have no idea what the trailer is for...