September 2004 Archives

This is one of the last photos I took this morning before my 300d started acting up. I got the catch all error 99 message. Could be loose contacts, dirt, shutter problems, anything. We'll see how it holds up during the holidays.

Away for a week - check flickr.com for upcoming moblog pictures from Ireland (Co. Antrim and Donegal).

(De Melkweg, 24-9-2004. Click to enlarge.) More shots at Flickr.

You can hear this concert on the VPRO website. Interpol are a really tight combo and I enjoyed their set, even if it was a little short (54 mins). I'd like to see more showmanship on the part of the singer - maybe he can take lessons from the bass player. Speaking of bass man, sir, the nazi-look isn't all that cool. Anyway, musically they were outstanding. Performance-wise... B-.

According to fans who partied with the band afterwards, Interpol hated the Dutch audience and did not enjoy the gig because we 'didn't dance or scream'. I'm sure eventually they'll learn to appreciate audiences that are interested in lyrics and chord changes, and do not swoon at the sight of their skinny little bods. I hope they'll learn that a few words, a glance, the drop of a shoulder can build a connection with an audience, who will then reward you with the attention you crave.

I'm not too keen on the new album which reveals they might be just one step away from generic USA pop/rock and lacks the serenity of their first.

... but someone got me a ticket for their next show on November 22, so I'll have to go again.

When I started temping at my current job, it was -- if I remember correctly -- for an initial period of six months.

Almost two years down the road, I'm still here, still temping, still filling in weekly invoices for Manpower and still signing short-term contracts with them every few months. It does your head in, it does. At 41 it's not how you envision your career.

I've seen many other contractors come and go since I started. I did not worry too much (unlike a lot of people, for me the day job is not the be all and end all of my life, or my sense of self), but at times I did wonder if my time would be up soon. But I'm still here and it looks like I have magically survived the government-imposed funding cuts and subsequent re-organisation of the company.

I don't want to jinx it, but good things are coming and by golly, this time I think I deserve it.

*pats self on back*

So who's in for a weekend in Brussels?

A Virgin Prunes Matinee at Ancienne Belgique.

100 minutes of unaired Virgin Prunes footage in total. Live DJ set by Gav and Guggi. Heaven is such a nice place.

Health update. My GP sent me to a neurologist to check me out for a whole range of odd symptoms that he thought might have one single cause: increased pressure on the brain.

I was prodded and tested and asked to 'walk this way' and to focus on infinity. Then I was told there's 'nothing to worry about' since there didn't seem to be anything wrong within the neurologist's field of expertise. Insert exclamation mark.

They're still going to do an MRI ('to stop your GP from worrying'), something they do with every migraine patient they take in. I'm on the waiting list, it'll be mid October before it's my turn to take pretty pictures of my brain.

Meanwhile, back to square one. I believe my own diagnosis is correct. Pity none of the professionals I've seen has ever heard of it.

It was, quite possibly, the last sunny day of the season. I woke sixish, immediately registering the throbbing in my head. The nausea. Not again.

Another day down the drain. I don't know how much of my life is lost to this affliction, but it's a lot. What a waste.

As the hours pass, the light became unbearable. I fetch a bucket from the kitchen, fill it with a layer of water - something learned in early childhood, I've always been a proficient vomiter. On my way back I pick up my mobile phone. Cross-eyed, I tap a few lines, send off text messages with no regard for the early hour in his part of the world. My inner-bitch wants mankind to suffer like I do.

I'm sure I've woken him, or disturbed a quiet breakfast. We 'talk' in brief spurts for while before he says he'll ring me 'in a few hours'. When the cafeine kicks in.

Later, still prone, but bucket unused, I take his call. I'm surprised by the sound of my own voice. I sound small.

Walter's da man.

About four years ago, I spotted an interesting site on the Dutch web. I didn't and don't spend much time on Dutch sites, since most of my online life takes place in the English-speaking realm. But I bookmarked Walter's site. It wasn't a weblog. It was a 'personal site'. He posted stories about his life, growing up in Amsterdam. They were intense, moving pieces that I was sure could find a wider audience.

Walter started weblogging shortly after that. Inevitably, we met at one of the first weblog meetings here in Amsterdam. Both being a little shy (or rather, he can be shy, I'm just a misanthropist) we gravitated towards each other.

Later we both became part of a group of likeminded people. Some people -- apparently allergic to the social aspects of 'communities' -- called us 'geitenfokkers' (goat breeders). We called it 'the minimeet' ourselves as we'd separated ourselves from a large group of webloggers. We met up in private (larger weblog meetings always being 'announced') to see films or visit art exhibitions, eat, drink and be quite merry, thank you very much.

I think we were all convinced of Walter's immense talent. But friends usually are. To see that talent recognised by others, by agents, by publishers... it's a dream come true. His, mostly, but ours as well - I'm sure.

Today we went to the launch of Walter's first novel, 'De hondenkoning'. If you're Dutch and my friend, you will be getting this book for your next birthday.

Walter looked proud. I think we were all pretty proud of him.

I saw a man at the book launch who looked familiar. He was just making his way out when I spotted him. I couldn't think where I'd seen him before, or who he was. Turns out he's my friend Guido's father, the artist Dick Matena. I had only ever seen his picture in the papers. Later that night I spent an hour talking to a rather inebriated Guido on the phone... and ended up with his spare ticket to see Interpol play live next week. Funny ol' world.

When tests say there's nothing wrong, but you still feel crap, it's time to start from scratch. I scribbled down a little list of symptoms to make sure I didn't forget any on the spot and saw my GP once more.

When he'd copied my list into his computer and read through them again, he said: 'The first thing a GP wants to do is eliminate possibilities.' Then he talked about higher brain functions.

I nodded. I'm lucky to have a GP who doesn't treat me like I'm illiterate.

He continued: 'I don't want to scare you, but...'

Then he picked up a phone and made an emergency appointment with a specialist.

My third time at Artis Zoo this month gave me a case of something that must be quite similar to penis envy.

The first two times I shuffled around the park, my Canon 300d and cheapo 80-200mm were easily the most advanced system there. People stepped aside and told their children not to get in the way of the lady taking photographs.

Yesterday, besides the army of digital point and shoots, there were at least four individuals carrying serious 'glass'. I found myself stealing glances of their massive tools whenever they lined up next to me, ready to snap critters in the small mammals area.

I could live with the very large man who at least shared his 10D and impressive image stabilised length - (possibly a 28-300mm L series) with his equally large son.

But the two young girls who were both sporting 70-300mm's on identical analog EOS cameras really made me and my system feel a little inadequate. Even the guy with the 28-200 Tamron had me question my photographic virility due to its range and, well, girth.

I cycled home chanting 'It's not the size, it's what you do with it' like a mantra. Then spent the rest of the day clicking through online shops, comparing and scribbling down prices.

If you've installed Windows Service Pack 2 and you're sound's gone wonky (very low sound when using Media Player's volume slider), reinstall your soundcard's drivers. Worked for me.

Getting psyched now. We're booking a fly drive offer to Dublin through BBI Travel at 127 euro p.p. for the end of September and beginning of October. (My friend will be driving. I'll bring my license, but I'm pretty sure I won't go anywhere near the driver's seat.)

I've been to Ireland 50 to 60 times (lost count) over the last 15 years and have hitchhiked/camped around the country three times and bused/hostel/b&b'ed it numerous times. There were two short 'weekend trips' that involved a car and an ex, but I've never really travelled the country by car. I'm very much looking forward to seeing all the spots we didn't get to see when were were on foot. The Giant's Causeway is one of them.

It will be also be my first chance to photograph Ireland with new gear and new eyes. As I said, I'm psyched and the days can't go fast enough.

I turned my day-ticket into a year-card today at Artis zoo and ended up spending four and a half hours there.

The lions were very entertaining. Mrs Lion (One visitor thought she was a tiger. Elsewhere, lots of visitors thought the wild dogs were 'wolves'. Sigh.) tried to get a rise out of Mr Lion - I'm guessing she fancies him. Shooting pictures as they play-fought, I quickly understood why one would like to have a bigger buffer in the camera. I would like to have been able to shoot continuously:

Amsterdam's Artis Zoo is not too far from where I live. Just the place to go to when you're working the weekend shift and only have periods of three hours in between site updates.

Never done this before: booked a flight 'just in case'. But who can pass up on a 6.49 pound one way flight from Belfast to Amsterdam?

And I might just have to be there the day before.