July 2002 Archives
Fabulous post at Metafilter about Lee Miller, a woman I'd never heard of before, but I think I want to be.
Remember the open air theatre show I saw in Almere a few weeks back? Poste Restante has pictures of Poldergasten.
Have I mentioned 'De Portugees' on Zeedijk (#37) before? A Portuguese restaurant. Lovely garlicy, salty food, usually dripping with butter. I had grilled swordfish. Plain and tasty. A bit too pricy, I think, but that doesn't seem to stop me from going there a lot. Service (all portuguese) is good, though I think we outstayed our welcome a bit and didn't order enough (alcohol) - the waiter didn't bother to bring back our change. A hefty tip, which was alright, we were planning to leave it anyway. Next time I really want to try the porco con ameijoas a alentejana (porc with clams), something I saw made on Two Fat Ladies one time.
I spent two nights in the company of two New Yorkers of Chilean and Portuguese descent. Lovely to see them thoroughly enjoy the city, the shopping, the sights and accepting and being excited about the differences rather than complaining about them. They had a question I couldn't answer: 'What is it with the Dutch and pigs? There's pigs EVERYWHERE.' Must investigate.
U2log.com is two years old this month. Happy Birthday to us. We're quite desperate for an extra editor with a voice and a sense of humour. Got a blog? Like U2? Like taking the mickey? Join us. Please. Before this editor-in-chief decides to call it a day.
Just read this somewhere: So much more could have been done with Reutger Haugher as the bad guy. Bwah!
"Wouldn’t it be nice to die and find there is an afterlife? Elvis and Satan come to meet you in a golden chariot with flaming wheels, Satan’s minions pound out a thumping voodoo rhythm while a thousand dead porn stars wait to greet you with open arms and legs." Michael J Sheehy.
27/32°C. A perfect day for tax forms and job centres.
Kunstweb... found a theatre course I want to do with help from my friend W. In fact... found several. There's beginners courses for acting, acting and singing, drama writing, etc and I want (eventually) to do them all. It starts late September. Perfect. (Ok, that's fucking useless. I want to sign up, but they only accept faxed or snail mailed forms. So you have to fill in the form on line and print it. I don't have a printer. I used the printers at work. I have no work right now. Ergo, screwed.)
It is hot in Amsterdam, very hot. We chose today to move my 'inheritance' from my friend PJ's house to mine.
It's his entire collection of U2 live tapes. Complete tours. All carefully labelled, going back to the early 80s. I had a similar collection once, but I sold it on a whim and regretted it ever since.
Now I have it back, and more. And it's trite to say I'd rather have my friend back than these tapes. Trite but true.
I will have to make room, build shelves to store it all. And we'll have to get used to seeing those boxes, his handwriting, all over my house.
Two flights up, two flights down. Sweating, wheezing, coughing. That's what you get for smoking and letting yourself go.
On top of the boxes I found a little present, gift wrapped. It had a yellow post-it attached to it. 'Probably bought for C's birthday.'
For me? Really? One look at its contents and I'm quite convinced.
He died 9 days before my 39th birthday. We celebrated soberly, in our restaurant, in our town, with our friends, with a gaping hole where he should have been and the quiet where his loud, obnoxious jokes should have sounded. He would have pissed me off.
I miss him pissing me off.
My hands were shaking as I opened it. Because I'm out of shape, I'm sure.
I think I should publically apologise to London-Jim from Norn Iron who, although we 1. refused and 2. ignored him for most of the time, paid for most of our drinks, couldn't make head nor tail of our many many stories, thought we were lesbians (because 1. they wore specs and 2. I didn't want to get drunk) and whom we left spinning drunkenly in his seat at 3 am to go score pizza. Hope you made it back to your hotel, mate.
Heh. People end up on this site googling for Caroline in the City.
The Rocking Vicar, rock goss and anecdotes. Good for a smile. [ via da diva ]
Minor scoopage at U2log.com. U2 appear to be remixing their Pop album.
Radiohead has just played three gigs in Portugal, and a number of new songs turned up in the set. I bet you want them.
Radiohead's Antivideos: Works of Art in the Age of Electronic Reproduction. Which I will read. Some day.
It's 'I've got nothing to blog' week, and that's because I'm redesigning and re-CMS-ing Amsterdam Stories and because I'm doing very-important-life-stuffTM, like signing on to get my social.
Formica: About "Hating" Children. Applause. [via Mood-Indigo]
P22- Last Great Floppy Disk Sale: time to get those typefaces you've always wanted.
This has happened twice now. I would appreciate it if people didn't use the comments underneath my main blog as a guestbook. I could go on about it but then you wouldn't like me anymore.
... and then I had to get out the old 'Green' album, naturally. Remember when REM still burned?
Hairshirt
I am not the type of dog
That could keep you waiting
For no good reason
Run a carbon-black test on my jaw
And you will find it's all been said before
I can swing my megaphone and long arm the rest
It's easier and better
To just beat it from the chest
Of desire
I could walk into this room
And the waves of conversation are enough
To knock you down in the undertow
So alone so alone in my life
Feed me banks of light
And hang your hairshirt on the lowest rung
It's a beautiful life
And I can hang my hairshirt
Away up high in the attic of the wrong dog's life chest
Or bury it at sea
All my life I've searched for this
Here I am here I am in your life
It's a beautiful life
My life
It's a beautiful life
Your life
Presse! Auf Deutsch. Gut, ne? (Not sure why they think we've reached critical mass with 100+ users. Think big, darlings.)
More 'Parade' tips, cause I was there again last night: Avoid Fortuna's Wedding. It's slapstick, Benny Hill, Hi Di Hi, bad panto. Panorama Amsterdam 'Ontboezemingen' is almost literally a 'quickie' but more in spirit with (what I think) De Parade was all about than anything else I've seen so far (wasn't lucky with my choices). 'Moeder, Hoer of kwezel', Dutch classic plays reduced to their essence in 30 minutes is enjoyable. Bit of the old Dutch school of 'shouting is acting' type of thing (D'ya think Tom Cruise went to acting school in The Netherlands?), but some of the actors conjure up real emotion in a very short time span. Ended the day watching the 'Gorelev' ensemble, with the glorious Bob Fosko singing his dirty little heart out. And was that Arno I spotted in the audience?
RTE has redesigned. 700 years of British rule... rubs off.
Caroline the Collaborator. I like that. A lot. Think I'll keep that one for my epitaph.
Wheeeeeee, more press.
Some photos taken at De Parade last night. Mostly blurry.
Dutch people going to De Parade: avoid 'A Well Fucked Up Play', which is just lazy (there's a fine line between camp and straight and they completely miss it). Do go see 'Five Easy Pieces' which is light hearted, perhaps a little shallow, but puts a great big smile on your face.
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"What a weird and stubborn summer this is."
I consider this. Should we talk about the weather?
The seasons come and go, my dear, they have no say in things, it's we who are the stubborn. And yes, you are, a little. Weird. A weird, sweet mystery, a little less each year.
He says I know him and I think I will, one day. One day when we're old and grey.
When we settle down to be.
He says: "Sing 'la la la', 'cause the mad thing that's life goes on."
So I twist my rusty tongue around the words and sing for him. Allegro molto agitato.
"La la la."
Life As It Happens, a good blog found through my comments.
People have been asking me a lot of questions. What am I going to do. Have I got a new job yet? But the question asked the most is 'Are you going to Ireland?' As if that's all I do, go to Ireland. I do other things. Really.
Sometimes I go to England.
But to answer the question: I have no plans to go there this summer. Yet.
I never do have travel plans, because I don't seem to travel without a reason anymore. I don't go on holidays. I travel with a purpose. Mostly music related. To see a gig. To see friends. To see friends at a gig. Often, these trips are last minute decisions. Whenever something's on.
My idea of a (real) holiday is going camping in France. Or to rent an apartment in Portugal, with a pool on the grounds and some dirty little caf in the village nearby, and watching fishermen handle their colourful boats on the beach and gape at the mountains of shell food at the market. Which is something I enjoy doing very very much. But not on my own.
Amazing, how quickly one adapts. Being unemployed should not feel a lot different than being on holiday, at least not at first. But it does. There's no deadline, there's no pressure to enjoy oneself to the hilt before going back to the grind. There is no predictable future. I have noticed I have slowed down. Literally, slowed down everything I do. Unchaining my bike I do not rush and fumble. I do not feel pressurised to do any grocery shopping. Mañana. It's good for the neck and back muscles. It's good for the heart.
I think in future, superhero films should come in different cuts. One for the kids. And one for adults. Let whoever's the hot action director of the day make the one for the kids. And then let Tim Burton do the adult one. So yeah, I've just seen Spider man. Which starts out good, slow, funny, building the character and then goes completely haywire and completely black and white and badly acted and rah rah rah americah and oh my god, that last scene was crap, and the girl's about 30 isn't she?
I got you babe by David Bowie and Marianne Faithful, recorded live in 1973. (info via The Illustrated DB discography.)
Happy Birthday to Ziggy, too. Belatedly.
I'm trying to follow a few discussions on directing, lighting, editing, etc of my favourite TV show, but find I don't know enough about the subject to be able to understand people's points clearly enough. What does a director really do? What does a line producer do? What does a DP do? What is done in post production? How do I watch TV and notice production values, lighting, direction, etc? Need info. Know of any?
HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, TOM, you young'un.
Guardian Best British Blog competition. Money for nothing, bits for free. Shtu'sthebeshcuzhesmymate. ButIwouldn'tgive'imcashferit. Tom has something to say about it. I wish I had his brain sometimes.
Hawksley Workman Who? Cool video, interesting song, what's with the Ferry-isms? Hmm. Must investigate. (ha... thought 'cannot be American'. Is Canadian. Score one for the girl.) ... Oh dear, Stuart, have a look at this, megaphone and all. (click top video)
When I cross the River Amstel (warning, uglet ahead) at the end of my street, I end up in an area called 'De Pijp'. It's no more than 10 minutes up the road (biking it), I shop there occasionally, but I seldom venture into the area for social activities. Which, as I've now discovered, is entirely stupid. Lured there by more knowledgeable friends (a lifetime of Amsterdam living behind them), I made acquaintance with the crossroads of Eerste van der Helststraat, Albert Cuyp and Sarphati Park. It's almost an alternate reality experience. Entering the area I felt 'on holiday' in my own city, encountering an atmosphere somewhere between London's Soho and le Rue de Bouchers. Without the tourists. And smaller, of course, this is the Netherlands. Small is 'gezellig'. Future guests will appreciate my new found knowledge.
So far... enjoying my new work-less status. Already in danger of the easiest of sins, SLOTH. Putting off rather important tasks such as actually reading all the paperwork and brochures and signing on, and looking for a job.
'Hello, tax advisors inc.'
'Hello... I was looking for some help with my tax form, I'm a BIT late.'
'Well, don't worry, you're not the only one. Letter is dated the 17th?'
'Um... (fumble), yes.'
'OK, that means you have to hand it in on the 31st. Any oddities?'
'No, a simple tax form, really.'
'Do you own a house?'
'Yes'
'OK, I'll need the mortgage papers'. Do you have savings, insurance?'
'Um, yeah'
'OK, I'll need those papers too. If you hand all your stuff on the 29th, I'll make sure it's ready on the 30th.'
'Um... brilliant, thanks.'
I love people who are knowledgeable, polite, brisk and to the point. It's so fucking rare.
We made it to USATODAY.com: For Buffy and Angel fans only: A new Joss Whedon Weblog, WHEDONesque, is now online with constant, juicy updates. ... It's a bit unfair, really, there are tons of sites out there who have been bringing Buffy news for years. Call something a weblog and you get press.
my words are too numerous - i must suffer for that:
Say good bye to sadness
now each heartbeat matters
say good bye to beauty, ruin, rainbows, springtime,
credit, blackmail, open kisses,
drugs and sorrow, despair, wonder, ivy-covered frozen graveyards
and the slowly-waning sun.
(The lyrics for CC's The Sky's Awful Blue album can be downloaded in RTF format.)
Cathal's playing London again. The Borderline, on September 3. Hmm.
Everybody. Everybody is talking about Six Feet Under. Blogs, mailing lists, boards, everywhere I go, it turns up. So I must download, I don't think I can see it on telly here. But first, I'm going to watch my brand new DVD of Robin of Sherwood. mmmmRobin. Good for a laugh too, I mean, that bloke with the stag on his head! Here's more about RoS.
I registered with Yahoo! and didn't expect to be listed, ever, what with their new pay-for-it policy. I'd at least expected several months delay. Not so. Listed in two days.
Wishing Heather and her colon all the best.
WHE were MeFied on our second day by that blue toddler. WHE survived.
MeFi's an adorable 3-year old. Happy birthday, blue thing.
... aaaaaand we're back. Thank you, Dreamhost, for a full day of down time. [ update: they just rang me to explain things. That's decent. Apparently, the mwhuhuh didn't mount the thingamebob.]
I'd like to give Jim Sheridan a huge kick up the arse. Do your job, man. Let my people go.
Mockerybird: The Most Beautiful One and Other Fictions, by Erik Benson... and why didn't I know the mockerybird was back?
Maria McKee is back with some upbeat news. A record deal is around the corner, and touring planned for Spring 03. Her enthusiasm is infectious. Flamenco, anyone?
I've gone religious on you. The Mirror Project Guest Curator: moi.
Teng-teng (photo) is an Indonesian sweet/snack made of peanuts and sugar that I like. It's almost impossible to eat because it falls apart when you touch it, so rather like powdery medicine you have to shove it from its wrapper into your mouth. It's flakey and crunchy and when you chew it, the sugar and nuts seems to caramelise in your mouth. The taste is somewhere between peanut butter and nougat. I can't find any information about it on the web.
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For the last time, I held the little electronic key to the sensor on the door. It opened with a click.
Behind me, the clamour of tourists and the hoarse shrieks of a single, psychotic junkie formed a surreal contrast to the quiet, slightly damp coolness of the office staircase.
Once more into the breach.
Before the weekend, this place still seemed part of me. A small, insignificant piece. Today, I felt no such allegiance.
Severance. Money cuts through everything.
I spent the half day tossing paperwork in bins and gathering together (small, insignificant) tokens of my time here.
At 4pm, the shaken teams and leaders huddled together exchanging nervous farewells. With a glass of wine in one hand and a clammy piece of cucumber in the other, I told my story again and again.
// No plans yet. Feels like a new beginning. Pushing forty, you know. (No! Really?) Time to reflect. Want something different. Do what I'm good at. Hadn't planned on staying much longer. Losing control is the worst. Summer's not the best time. Hope things work out for you too. //
"Good luck to you." "And you." My cheeks hurt with all this faux smiling.
The times they are a-changing and everyone is scared. Houses were bought, children conceived, spouses wooed and promises made. Everyone is counting, thinking of a future.
Slan leat. Slan agat. Goodbye to those staying, farewell to the ones leaving.
I handed in my key. I closed the door.
It's late and I'm tired and the drink isn't helping. LATE-NIGHT POOL writes: That's the irony of nature in The Netherlands: having to obey the strict rules the Dutch imposed on the ground, it took itself to the skies and counter-attacks us mercilessly from above – the one place beyond any control. That is also why the Dutch horizon is such a tense line, the harsh place where these two forces press against each other, without the soft tender compromises of in- or evaginations or curious zones mixing heaven and earth. I'll think about it. Tomorrow.
Love, I have always found, is most intense when its object is unworthy of it. John Banvile - The Untouchable. Ties in with a thought I had this week (yes, it scared me too), that the urge to love is much stronger than the need to be loved.
The cover of the John McEnroe biography looks very familiar. Isn't there a James Dean picture quite like it? This one's vaguely similar. This one even more. [ Ecritures sent some more ]
WHEDONesque, our new Joss Whedon (Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Fray) blog will be opening this Monday. Mr Milo and Miss Prol cordially invite you to come scramble for low user numbers. Blood and Burbaweed will be served. Bring your own demons.
PHP based weblog tool Pivot 0.10 has been released. I'm not using the prog anymore, but when I did its speed and ease of use was something to behold. You may want to give it a go.
disconnected zeitgeist | weblog. Blogging this for future reading.
The Streets: Weak Become Heroes video.
look right -->
(via e-mail)
Although the web biz is finally on its arse in this country and consequently lots of people were laid off, it appears employers still have problems finding good staff. So where have all those people gone? Have they gone back to what they were doing before they got into the web?
{ druppels 3.0 }, redesigned, looking gorgeous.
That dog has the most amazing eyes.
duck for cover - booklog. Marrije, in English. Entertainingly written.
« KVETCH IS DEAD ». No complaints.
...all that's right with our great country. Call me overly cynical ( read: European), but I thought this was funny. The Internet is American! Blogging is American!
Blimey. Headhunters. They're still out there.
Pirated Sites!! Aaarrgghh..., redesigned. Love that font. (Via Z)
This afternoon I was talking to someone at work who wondered what the hell to do with all your time when you get laid off. So I said I had plenty to do to keep me occupied, I mean, there's sites to build, books to write, dontcha know. 'But what on earth are these sites about, then?' She said she wouldn't know how to fill one. Fair enough. But don't look so surprised when others do! Anyway, that got me thinking, developing a site like Whedonesque would probably have taken about 6 months at work, 12 two-hour meetings, with a project manager, an information architect, a designer, an html-er and a software engineer working on it. And it would be all ASP or Java overkill horror and on launch it wouldn't work because the in house development servers wouldn't resemble the live ones. Hell on toast.
Meg redesigns and it looks v. nice.
I learnt a new word today: norks. As in, "She likes tapestry, basketweaving, and flashing her norks." Am told it's very News of the World.
Two very smart and talented people looked at whedonesque and pointed out some stuff that could do with some improving. So here we go with the last minute flapping and gasping and overhaul. Keeps us on our toes.
This is the first ever Flash work I have done for a client. Don't laugh - things that move scare me. And yes, yes, yes, I did that around the same time I did the last redesign for prolific.org.
A friend of mine drove down to Belgium to see Bowie, and I'm wicked jealous now and I should have said 'yes' when she asked me to go. I am an arse. Her description: 'So fucking sexy. Wow.'
DAF! Laibach! What more do you want? Go download from troubled diva
So. That's over and done with. Signed, sealed, delivered. I was on the phone to my cous' while I was handed the end of contract papers. Instant moral support, a Christmas invitation, and the knowledge that there's people in the world that you can stop seeing for a decade, and then pick right up where you left off. For a minute there, I was transported back to the 70s, the two of us squabbling and giggling over our Action Man figures. As I wrote to someone this morning, work is not what defines me. Friends and family are.
The Oxford Pain Internet Site... migraine info, via Miguel at MF. For later reading.
It's been a while since I've found a new blog in my referrers. Same old, all the time. But here's a good one: Velvet Elvis.
Two good things to end this weekend on. Whedonesque is just about ready to launch (Milo deserves big praise), and I got an e-mail from my cousin in Paris whom I haven't seen in 9 years (when I took this picture of him). It looks like we might be might be seeing eachother soon. If you asked me 'how does that make you feel?' I'd say... indescribably wonderful.
Next week will be my last at my current job, after signing some papers on Monday or Tuesday. Then I'll be signing ON, and be a dosser on the dole per September 1st. It took me a while to chew on this, but I'm rather looking forward to it now. I will spending a lot of time and energy on the update of this book and, naturally, looking for new employment. I am looking for a webmaster/content type job, preferably NOT in the internet business. If you've got a single site and or intranet to be run, updated, developed, maintained... I'm your woman.
Dutch skies... so often I would point out some particularly fab looking cloud formation to my dad and we'd call it a Ruisdael sky. Jacob van Ruisdael painted Holland in the Golden Age.
Welcome back, Noah Grey Photography.
Sheriff Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band... a Bond parody? A Beatles Spoof? Let me be the first to say: HUH?
Taken off my copy of 'This is... Cult Fiction Royale' (which seems to be out of print) is John Barry's Theme of The Persuaders (the Roger Moore/Tony Curtis series). I've always found this tune terribly evocative and worthy of a motion picture.
My old Nokia 3210's battery was moribund, so I looked into getting a new one for it. I found out that there was an option for me to renew my contract with KPN Mobile for two years, make use of a summer deal and get a new phone for a decent price - all in all only 20 Euro more than just a battery. Didn't go for anything fancy (hey, I'm unemployed, I need to watch the pennies) and got the probably already ancient Nokia 3310. Now it's sitting here all nicely charged and raring to go and I'm just waiting till somebody rings me on it.
The perfect antidote for worrying about yourself is to start worrying about somebody else. Makes you feel a lot better.
So, advertising works. Flipping through the new issue of SFX magazine I saw an ad for Robin of Sherwood - The Complete Second Series and promptly ordered it. Roooooobin... the Hooded Man.
The Kasander Film Company. Once you get over the full screen flash irritation, you'll find some pretty original navigation here. It's good fun, it works, it's surprising. Good stuff.
A big YAY for friend G.M. who got me a ticket for Suede today (I had NO idea their October gig had been announced), told me, and then rushed back to the box office to get me 4 more just before closing time. His description of the band: the best 80s band for the 90s and beyond. Hmm... but there's Pulp too.
Here's the four songs from David Bowie's Jonathan Ross appearance for your pleasure.
the lair of the marrow monkey, digital storytelling in Flash, with visuals, music and words. Poetry in motion. Check out 'Chroma'.
UK Bloggers are meeting up today for a picnic in the park, or a rub in the pub. With the promise of cash in the near future, I really should have grabbed a flight and joined in the fun. Hope they have a great time.
Oh look, that would have been a perfect Whedonesque post.
You're not alone, he says, reaching out late at night, new to this virtual life. He thinks of her she thinks and thinks of him.
They sometimes match and then again mismatch their moods. Selflessly selfish, willing, mutual leeches.
A wage slave caught in dot.com crash collides head on with the free-est spirit in her worlds. Incompatibly befriended, connected against all odds. Divided by land and sea, as certain as the earth and as necessary as rainfall. A love surpreme of some sort.
There's nothing simple in this pleasure.
Far away, so close, she thinks, but right there with you, always, forever. Now.
They are not alone.
David Bowie's singing 'Slip Away' on Jonathan Ross. Watching this, even on the little TV screen, I get pulled in, and the heart leaps. As always, it fills me with feeling. Just the thought to be so grateful to be living in this age, witnessing.
(licensed?) Buffy The Vampire Slayer RPG in development.
Phew, that was... bracing. It went ok. I think. Or did it? Hmm... now about that wider tv I was talking about...
"Tomorrow, Prol shall face the master, and she will..." If you've got nothing to do tomorrow morning at 9.30am CET, do us a favour and cross fingers.
K10K theme for XP... must try.
Scroll down for the Rip Off Cow
// No job is worth your sanity or spirit. Keep strong. X // Well, I think I've discovered a new market. What do you all think about SMS-Samaritans?
The new Coldplay single bores the face off me.
Over dinner last night I casually managed to spoil four people for the Mark Greene story on E.R. And I don't even watch it anymore. Oops.
Nam Tin on Jodenbreestraat in Amsterdam gets a bad rap on some review boards, but our experience was good. Our party of six was served quickly, kindly and efficiently. (Perhaps that had something to do with half of us being/looking Chinese?) I had steamed oysters with black bean sauce, duck skin pancakes, and a entire crab with ginger and spring onions, and a coconut icecream dessert, at 35 Euro. It was good, perhaps not brilliant.
Field Notes, the web's longest (tallest?) weblog, has moved again. ? On body stuff: It's just astonishing to me that we can take pictures of Mars while still having developed nothing better than today's razors, tampons, birth control, and foundation garments. Priorities, people!