witches and goblins

or rather Darth Vader, Batman and Alex doing something strange with his hands. Found a carveable pumpkin at the Albert Heijn, miracle of miracles! Though the tradition seems to have originated in Ireland, thus a whole lot closer to Nederland than the US, strangely no one here seems to carve pumpkins. The Dutch, or at least the Albert Heijn, seem to be catching on though.

Happy Birthday to Me! more wisdom from Dr. Seuss

unstoppable

I don't know if I spelled that right, quite likely not, but the fact is that whether or not I can properly spell the silly word, I am unstoppable. Tonight I spoke for over an hour in Dutch to the parents of my first year students, answering their questions (pittig!) and trying to allay their fears about their kids. They're good people, most all of them and they will come to no harm. I am having very mixed feelings about moving toward the HvA. There is magic in the MBO teaching.

But I digress.

I then, in dire need of ear-damaging noise and adventure, made my way to Utrecht, by train and bicycle, to witness the deafening wall of sound that is the UK's Part Chimp. My ears are still ringing. Success, in other words...

But then most importantly I got to do something so very Dutch, something I've never done before...ride on the back of a bike while someone else pedals, ya know, side-saddle, and it was both exhilerating and extremely nerve-wracking. Success, in other words....

The Answer

Normally, apparently, the music. I thought so. You hear the music and you start humming something over or under it and then words come and before you know it you've written a song. That's how it worked tonight anyway. AND I AM SO PROUD! We wrote a song and, though it still needs a definite ending, it has structure and sounds cool and the lyrics are weird enough to satisfy me. Yes! I can't believe I finally helped write a song, I collaborated and it worked! I didn't think it would. I mean, at one point the bass player and guitarist (shall I give them names? I suppose I should ask them first if I can quote them here) were looking at me very expectantly, claiming that they couldn't give the song structure until I came up with some words. And I was terrified. It just played into all my horror of not being good enough, not being a real musician, all the doubts I had while playing with Kuru. And I never had to face up to them because everyone else always had lots of ideas and knew exactly what they wanted. This, tonight, was really the first time that other musicians have looked to me to add a crucial component to the music. I've always kinda just felt like filler, you know, a cool accent, but not essentially a part of the music. And that all changed tonight. And I am so grateful for being given a chance to take part, no judgements, no expectations, just "your part is needed here." Wow. It just gets better and better.

So what comes first? The music? Or the lyrics?

punk rock is the easiest place to hide

and yet I fought the urge to hide and tried to come out of myself a little bit. Make music. Face them and let it out and not worry about how it might sound. hiding behind the noise is easier and more fun and more liberating. If it weren't for the echo and the bass all the way up and treble all the way down and the digital delay and the pounding of the drums I would probably never let my voice out of it's box. But now and then I do and screw it, because it feels good and who cares

My Face

I sincerely dislike Facebook. It leaves me no room to express myself as I see fit. I have tried creating MySpace pages and in my opinion they just suck. I have no friends and no patience for accumulating them. Blogger is where it's at. Always has been. Why are so many people so stupid?

so true and why i'm enamored with wallander

This is a serious point. If you want to get under the skin of a foreign culture, skip the guided tours of cathedrals and art galleries, and read its crime thrillers. Here you will see its darkest nightmares, though these usually turn out to be much like our own, involving serial killers, domestic violence, kidnapping, torture and corruption in high places.

A Gated Community for One

Those naughty pranksters The Yes Men are at it again...................

Alcohol and high concept art do not always mix smoothly

I have to conclude that my age is beginning to matter. My physical age, that is. My mental age seems to regress continually and on that count, I am not concerned. However, as evidenced by the fact that I'm just now feeling fully recovered from the party, I mean art opening, which I went to on Friday night, I can only conclude that physical age does sort of matter.

It went all night. The party, I mean, and it was a memorable one. There was, of course, art. And music, including some of my favorites: The Beastie Boys' Check Your Head, Miles Davis, Bauhaus, and Herman Brood (grapje!). We drank tequila, prodigious amounts of beer and jumped up and down a lot. A toilet got broken during the craziness. But that's only because some naughty party-goers tried to ride it across the room. Things got slippery, namely, the floor. A friend slipped and fell and got hurt and had to go to the ehbo (the Dutch Emergency Room). Luckily he was close to home and surrounded by friends and was not seriously injured. He will most likely have a cool looking scar and a funny story to tell.

I met some fascinating new people, taught them how to properly do tequila shots, got to speak Russian and even touched a dead bird. I took the train home from Rotterdam at 6:00 in the morning and it was a beautiful, foggy train ride home at that hour. Now that I'm feeling fully recovered, I look forward to going to more memorable art openings in future.