Sunday, September 18, 2011
I never thought it would ever be like this, when things remind you of someone.
I guess music really tells your age, I can have this evening looking up video’s of the “old times”, thanks to youtube. And there’s always this song passing by reminding myself to times ago, or to people who’re not here anymore.
Like you for example. You made me laugh so many times and made me watch this punk attitude I would always link to “kids” of your generation. And now I have to bear these laughs by myself and listen to this fantastic music, alone. I see the clothes hanging here meant for our performance project together, there’s the stiletto on the chimney you gave me once… so tell me, did you really have to go? Because so much has happened since then and I’m sure you would have had a laugh about it. And tell me, you know… it’s not music to enjoy by yourself, you know it’s better when having company. But there’s noting really I can change about that. I’ll be old very soon with everything included, wrinkles, grey hairs and saggy tits. That’s at least one thing you’ve escaped. But oh the joy…..don’t you miss it? Drinking all of this bottle of red wine, having crazy ideas and go freak out? I promise you that I’ll never loose this, not only for you… but Oh the joy … for myself. Dude… seriously….one day…. We’ll have that wine together again. For now, I’ll share the fun with you in my thoughts.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
8 years ago I’ve spend a lot of my time in the UK, around Nottingham. I stayed in this really small village next to Sherwood Forest and I’ve learned from the people I knew there that this area was basically left aside since the big miner strikes around 84-85, leaving big areas without employment. Still 20 years later it’s an area with unemployed adults sitting at home and kids hanging around in the streets, feared by the community. One day, my friend took me to Nottingham city and I was sitting at a local square when a boy threw a plastic half full lemonade bottle in my direction. I turned around, picked up the bottle and went into a conversation with this guy, exactly the same thing what I would do in my own city. Before really noticing it, other guys would come into my direction and the friend I was with pulled my arm and told me to leave NOW. So I went away, as being told, and a few streets later I asked my friend what this was all about. He explained me that I should never ever try to point out behaviour like this to anyone because they would surround you gang style and beat you up, hence the fact everywhere there’s CCTV. They didn’t give a fuck about that.
That was 8 years ago, and I told myself I would never ever think of living there.
The area I live in is mainly habited by a large Moroccan community, and also some Polish families, African families and young Belgian families. We have a small history of riots and sometimes when it’s hot outside the Southern temperament comes up again. But maybe the difference is that the local council invested their money in youth services. I work in the social-cultural sector and am privileged to work with and view those youth centres. They attract local youth to go to the centre where activities are organized and where kids can have the chance to record a demo in a real studio, to follow free dance courses and to give them responsibilities towards the material and location they can use for free. When they are on the streets there’s a huge control by street youth workers ( most of them are known by the kids since a lot of these youth workers come from their own community) and also by the older adults of the community. While my area sometimes has a bad name for people who don’t live there (and the media which only reports the bad stuff happening) I love this area and the people living here.
My boyfriend, who’s French, told me about how the French government has been cutting spending on local social projects during the last decade with the result that for example around Paris (the banlieus) there are areas where you and me would be killed walking around. Unemployed youth, nothing to do, living in poverty, wanting only materialistic stuff (thx to MTV, the media and etc…..and those phony rappers talking about money and bitches) with no moral standards at all, because they have nothing to loose…. Can I blame them? Maybe not.
While I’m disgusted by the behaviour I see on my tv, I think the government should maybe analyse themselves. If they can put millions of euros to bail out banks, to organize the Olympics and in the meantime cut spending on education, youth centres, leaving whole communities to deal with themselves without giving one penny to them. Well…..what do you expect then? The future is in the hands of the young generation, it should be a motivation to take care of them.
In my job (working with kids the age of 15 to 22 yrs old) I hear the most incredible sad stories about their home situations. Some of them are teenagers who are dealing with everything themselves because the parents don’t give a shit, or there’s drug abuse around, or they live in total poverty….some of these parents are totally unfit to have kids, but that’s another story.
And when I read all the hatred things on Facebook like : the police should have used real bullets, they should stop all the benefits, these kids should have life in prison…..I’m thinking, oh yes, this will solve everything of course. As I see it now, honestly, the UK hasn’t changed a bit in 8 years, the country was crap and still is crap, and all the CCTV in the world, all the cutting of benefits and etc… is not gonna help a thing. Politicians should support local communities instead of talking about the economics only. But what’s not beneficial in a short term period doesn’t count for them. Well… I wish you luck politicians and Presidents, I gladly invite you in my area to show you that investing in youth gives a lot back to the community in long term.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
This one goes out to the one I love from REM plays on the mp3player pressed between my breasts. How it got there is another story. All of a sudden I realize I’m old. This song, the vibe, the colour within the melody is OLD. I wish days were like this, the days I’ve danced on this music every weekend , the time I was 16 or 17, around this period. I loved these days, not aware of any danger or tax-inspectors ringing your door, no just the innocence and having a home to go to. Living by the rules of your parents, but in the same time trying to cross their borders. While I hated my puberty I loved every bit of it, and I realize that when “old” people these times told me many times how I would change my mind on a later age, that things are true, some of these things are really true. And I feel old.
I’ll probably have another opinion when I’m 65, but for now I think life is pretty cruel, I probably wasn’t prepared for that, to see all this unjustified things going on, to see love is a bit more complicated than a prince on a white horse, to see all the masquerade, everyday. I’m more of a romanticist, I do believe in the great love, in the honesty and in the peace of humanity.
And the song goes over into rock’n roll suicide from David Bowie. I’m double as old now, I can only imagine what it is to have the age of Bowie. But what a fucking soul, I guess it’s all about the soul. No bla bla, no going home alone, no eating alone, no sleeping alone, no talking to the walls, no whatever…..Even when you’re happy.
The lemonheads, what the fuck…. You cannot not dance on this tune. I see the decades passing by, and I do wonder what it’s about. Politics don’t change, we go by the flow which is given by them, so what is it about?
I barely visit the graves of my ancestors so what is it about. To do something and be unforgotten, or just to be you and disappear after a while? I’ve lost some friends already, too early of course, but time passes by and I wonder, did they live their life the full way, and are we the ones who are stupid? Stupid enough to keep on putting up with the things that basically don’t really matter. Fuck that, seriously.
Some days I just have enough being the polite educated woman without much of an opinion, or sometimes too much and being the party alcoholic idealist extreme left woman. Oh you know, people have opinions.
I’m just a woman, loving my man, drinking a guignolet kirsch, smoking a cigarette, feeling old sometimes and with an mp3player between her breasts, alone.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I have a nice painting in my house. It’s also the only professional painting I own. Some of my friends really dislike it, I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s the use of colours, shades of orange and blue. Or maybe it’s the big eye situated in the centre of it, sometimes it reminds me of a big omelette. There’s also a blend of cubism in it which shows the painter has a perfectionist side. I’ve never known why I like this painting so much from the first time I saw it, still unfinished, with parts of the canvas untouched, bright white. Every time I visited the painter his house, for whatever reason, I caught a glimpse of the painting in progress. Discretely, for my own personal enjoyment. Months passed by until one evening, a few days after my birthday, when I happened to have a drink with some friends at the house of the painter. Out of the blue he tells me he still has a birthday present he wants to give me. He stood up, went to his easel, picked up the by now finished painting, and dropped it in my hands. I could not accept this gift. I’ve never had a gift like this before in my life. But he didn’t want it back, it was for me. He wrote me a personal text on the back and signed it with his name at the front. Since this day, the painting has always been on a wall in my living room where I can see it everyday. And I’m talking about a decade already.
Years passed by, and as a lot of things in life, we lost contact, changed friends and social scenes. He tried to contact me twice over the years, but I never picked up his calls, because I didn’t feel like. I thought we might meet each other again randomly, just somewhere out there. But that never happened and will not ever happen again. He took that chance with him 2 months ago, together with a lot of other chances. And I don’t know why. Just like his painting. I don’t know why I like it.
No such miracle of faith
In such a miracle,
Will see faith
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Yes, it’s been long. I faced a lack of creativity and a way to translate my thoughts on a paper. While my head was spinning around all the time, I couldn’t put down sentences or even words. Maybe I’ve just been lazy or maybe it has to do with being busy organizing my paperwork and the pressure of finding work since I’m a freelancer, so I’m looking for work the whole year through. I will not go into details about my position as an artist (and all the shit that comes with that, referring to paperwork and the bureaucracy involved) in this society, because it would bore you to death. But what I’ve been noticing, when looking back on 2009, is that I’m getting more poor each year while I’m working the same amount of hours or even more. I guess someone’s fucking with our minds (and wallets) and it certainly is not GOD. (sorry Bill Hicks :D ).
I don’t know if this is just a national happening or if some people on other continents have the same feeling. Some friends of mine told me exactly the same thing. More and more people have difficulties to survive every month, and if it wasn’t for my boyfriend who sometimes hands me some Euros I would have been in a great financial nightmare by now. I still plan to pay him back one day, if it’s ever possible. My friends and me have to make choices every month like … Can we go to the dentist this month? Can I fix my bike this month? Are we able to pay the train to go to an audition? The gynaecologist for an urgent research will have to wait a few months as well. Sick? Sorry, cant afford to see a doctor and pay for medication.
In the supermarket I feel guilty when I would buy something nice to eat because really, I shouldn’t buy food that’s a little bit more expensive. I’m touching wood here, because if something in my place would break down, like the fridge for example, then it would be quite a disaster, ‘cause I don’t have the budget to replace anything here.
But okay…I can deal with all that, and my friends as well because we’ve learned to be creative in living life like this. So don’t read this as a big complaint. I’m not complaining.
What really makes me sick tho is that nowadays everything is seen as an economic number.
Yesterday I’ve seen on the news that (following the numbers of course) even when the economy went down in
I don’t believe in this system anymore. For the banks there’s money when there’s a crisis (“because we have to give them money to avoid an economic catastrophe”), for security systems, to protect the travelers at the railway there’s no money, for homeless people sleeping on the streets during the freezing cold we had this winter there’s no money and for multinationals planning to bring their business to another (foreign) country there’s a lot of money (ref. to Opel/GM group Belgium). So where’s the fucking balance? There’s none.
And yes they complain about the unemployed being on benefits (like me when I’m not under contract) and that they profit of the tax money. But I never heard anyone say something about the top-wages and benefits CEO’s are getting while there’s a crisis going on. Seriously, who takes it serious to be getting paid this much for what, for their excellent brain?
If this year will go down again, I will be forced to live together instead of keeping my independency. I’m seriously considering to stop voting next time (it’s obligated here), instead they can have my middle finger.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Luckily I don’t have kids, I often think.
I might want one someday, but I’m old already so I might just give up on that idea anyway. I don’t find enough reasons to have a kid, there are more reasons for me to not have one. Just look around, even with a lot of imagination it’s difficult to see the beauty left around and no….I’m not depressed. Even a blind person can see the beauty on this planet is fading. We’re heading for an ecological disaster with corrupt politicians making deals backstage. The babies born today will inherit a sick planet.
But will I miss something eventually?
I might die lonely without anyone there to change my diapers and feed me.
I might feel like half a woman because I never gave birth.
I might never explore the “mum” feeling.
I might never see a duplicate of me growing up.
I might never give a tiny human a name.
But will I regret it?
I know I will be happy when I will enter my menopause and not have to deal with questions anymore like “when will you start having babies?” and looks of people like there’s something terribly wrong with me because I have a “virginated” vagina. Maybe I’m a woman with a male brain, I don’t find babies that cute you see. I mean, yes they can be cute, but not “kilikilikiliolalalala” cute. As a woman you can’t say that, because I have a vagina….and all vagina's like babies and holding them.
“You’re running away from your responsibilities”
Yes sorry, I like my life too much….sleeping long, doing drugs, drinking with friends, enjoying my boyfriend, having my own time, choosing to work…or not. I never had the life they expected me to have and one time I was at the stage when I bought a house with a boyfriend, I just never saw me with him in 20 years…So I left. I could have been a single mum now or stuck in a sad relationship within the walls of my own house. Instead I explored my sex life and partied the years away. I know I don’t regret that.
Life at my age being a woman can be pretty hard dealing with all the baby stuff around happening. One time someone told me that at least their kid would take care of them later on. Really….I might be an egoist with my lifestyle, but young parents can be big unemphatic assholes at times. And soon Christmas is coming and I can expect all these greeting cards with the head of their baby on it. Seriously, I’d rather want the money to make the card and post it to go to charity…or buy me a beer.
So will I regret it?
But I can tell my family one thing, you’ll never have to change my diaper or feed me, I’ll be long gone before that.
(picture by Sofie Jaspers)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Just another meandering collection of mind-detritus.
Firstly, the title. I've had a headache for four days solid. The dizzy spells have passed, but it still feels like a hand has been pressed against my forehead, above my eyes, and the fingers are stretching back into the meat of my brain in distinct channels.
I'm past cranky, skirting cantankerous and approaching churlish.
It's not that it's particularly bad. And it's slightly better than it was, since it's more diffuse. It's more that it has been four days with no reprieve.
My casual joking about brain tumors seems to bother people a little. It's not that I want to die, I just don't really see it as such a terrible thing. Sure, there's nothing afterward for me; I just work really well with a deadline.
But I guess it is kind of distasteful.
About a month ago I spilled a brown sugar and butter sauce that I had boiling on the barbecue (for sweet potatoes) on my foot. I raised some lovely blisters but didn't fuse my sock to my skin or anything. And really, after the first 12 hours there wasn't any pain. It's just been a matter of keeping it protected.
This morning I noticed that the blistered skin is starting to dry out and there is new skin underneath it.
I'm hesitant to help it slough off because I'm just so used to the purple mark on the top of my foot.
I don't know why, but I've grown... not fond of it... but it's familiar now.
Maybe it will scar and I'll get to keep it.
About a week after the butter-and-brown-sugar incident I was taking my car to get the exhaust system fixed. I don't drive a great deal. I walk to work, but the grocery store close enough to walk to is too expensive to shop at all the time, and most of my family is spread out around the province - so I'll run my car while I can afford to.
On the way there, my brakes started to fail out on me.
I had just enough juice left to stop the car in the garage's parking lot.
He told me later that I was lucky not to have needed to go any farther because the next time I tried to stop I probably wouldn't have.
So it was lucky, but still expensive.
I'll be eating ramen for awhile.
Lucky I like ramen.
To go along with that week, I also managed to catch a cold or the flu or something. I'm always sick, since my immune system has always been pretty shit, but especially in the last two years since I had mono.
It kicked my ass pretty hard, and mostly on the day that I had to leave my apartment because it was being sprayed for bedbugs. I know, it's gross, but they're not a filth-seeking insect, they're just hematophages. Either way it was a fairly minor case and the experts are pretty sure it's taken care of but it was really disruptive. Luckily I had help for the work that needed to be done to prepare for it.
I went to the movies and sat by myself with a pocket full of snotty tissues.
Between the boils on my foot, the intense sickness, the insects... It was starting to feel pretty Biblical.
Had I forgotten to let someone's people go?
If I were religious, I'd be freeing the shit out of everything.
I don't think my headache has anything to do with listening to Gallows a lot lately. I'm ignoring the fact that I'm probably too old to really be into angry punk anymore. And that I'm more firmly entrenched in the establishment than most punk ideology would permit. But Grey Britain is an exceptional album.
I've also been listening to Beirut. It makes me walk slower and chills me out. It's a little hard not to want to sing along in public places, but I always have that urge.
The only thing they've got in common really is that they both have rather complex arrangements that the Youtube quality doesn't really show - but that's coming from someone who only listens to music rather than plays it. And they're both good.
That's all the commonality I need, anyhow.
Now if only this headache would slip into the sea.