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At the metro station this morning the ticket machine only accepted the exact fee. The guy at the cornershop didn’t want to give me any change. The station is full of machines that never work. They’re either broken, or haven’t been put into service yet. This time, the machine was out of money.

I explained this to the guard at the stairs, but he wouldn’t let me through. He brought me back to the machine. I told him again the machine was out of change, but he said ‘I’m only trying to help you’ and asked me where I was going. He tapped in my destination and told me to put 2,70 in the machine. Sigh. Never try to argue with the feeble-brained.

I showed him my 5 euro note and spellled it out for him again: the machine doesn’t accept my bills because it’s out of change, and no, the guy in the shop doesn’t want to give me any. ‘There are shops outside,’ he said. Yeah, thanks for nothing.

Meanwhile, I am doing the ‘mailbox’ shift at work, answering problems people have with our websites and our video sterams and this time I’m the one being insulted by customers, just because I can’t fix their computer problem.

A world without people. That would be ideal.

On that note: Get Grace Out! Get Grace Out!

Last night I lost my wallet with my bank card, my Mastercard, my Visa, my Amex, my work I.D., tons of other cards and, thankfully, only 30 Euro in cash. I haven’t lost a wallet in 30 years, because I’m practically OCD about knowing where it is. But I bought a new wallet recently that turned out to be just a little too large to stick in my jeans pockets and felt slippery – I didn’t feel good about it. It probably fell from my jacket pocket on the train or on the metro. Note to self: trust your instincts.

Did I mention I got caught without a ticket on the Metro the night before? 37 euro fine.

I’m stuck at home with no food and no money and a hell of a temper.

It’s a wonderful world.

Tivoli i lov’ it


My final day in Copenhagen I spent in the city’s entertainment park, Tivoli. (Flickr photo set) It’s closed in winter, but opens during Christmas when they’ve decorated the place in lights.

Tivoli has the dubious honour to have inspired Walt Disney to build his Disneyland, but the Danish park is charming, not gaudy. It’s old fashioned and far too lovely to be camp.

When I was little I wandered into one of its gambling venues with a handful of coins (from my uncle) in my pocket.

There I found a strange betting machine. It was based on horse racing. I didn’t understand the instructions, but it looked fascinating so I dropped in a coin and pressed some buttons.

A few minutes later a heavy load of money spilled into the receptacle at the bottom of the machine. I looked around me, but none of my relatives had followed me into the building.

I was a little sad that no one had witnessed my fortune, but I pocketed the winnings with a thrill. And spent it all on other, less generous, machines.

When my mother passed away in 1975 I had not seen my father for a while.
They were separated and visiting arrangements were a little
problematic.

When it was suggested I’d go live with my mother’s sister, my aunt
Ineke, I was all for it. She was married to my favourite uncle and I
was close to her two youngest sons. They lived what I at 12 years old (and for a long time after) considered the
high life. International schools, a lot of travel, all the toys in the
world.

It would have meant leaving Holland and growing up in Jakarta and Copenhagen. I think I was ok with that too.

My aunt and I would have eventually come to blows had this plan (One of several… boarding/finishing school in Switzerland was another. That would have been something.) got the
go ahead, I’m sure. I’d have been the rebel child. I eventually went to live with
my father instead and consequently did not see a lot of my mother’s family after that. I spent my whole childhood missing them and learning to do without. Then I forgot how to get back in touch, and they seemed to have forgot about me.
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2005 goes down in my books as the year I stopped buying CDs. My budget had to give somewhere and rather than be a scrooge on food, I cut down from my usual 80 CDs a year to virtually none (‘less than 10′). Torrents be praised. Do I feel guilty? Not really. Most of my money and time (and time, as you all know, is money) has gone and still goes into the music industry anyway.

And yet I can’t cut down completely. Sometimes I get these urges, these little obsessions. Last week it was ‘I have to have everything and anything ever put out by Arcade Fire’. Why? Gorgeous packaging, that’s why. I mean, look at this. The scans don’t do the actual product justice. The ‘Neighborhood #2′ 7″ for example has a fold out sleeve, printed inside and out with Art Deco/Tim Burtonesque imagery.

{ click click }
Since they’re only starting out it’s fairly easy to obtain ‘everything and anything’, except that elusive first single, only 1500 of which were pressed. So if anyone can give me a lead on a copy of the ‘Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)’ 7″…

My cousin rang me late in the evening asking me if I knew anything about the field. I knew nothing. Nothing but the stories I heard as a kid, stories of mythic proportions. ‘Your grandmother owns land’, ‘It’s a rubber plantation’, ‘Part of it is yours’. My grandparents always told me not to worry about money, I’d be well looked after. Good stories to hear, when you’re a kid.

I only half believed them then and when my grandparents died and nothing materialised, I shrugged and filed ‘em them in the box labelled ‘childhood dreams / urban myths’, along with Santa Claus and the baby Jesus.

It appears the field does exist. And now I wish it didn’t, for the rift it’s brought.

But hey, it’s kind of funny to think that legally, I own part of a piece of land on Sulawesi, even if through circumstances, I’ll probably never really have it.

The trouble with Dublin is the women scare me and the men drive me round the bend on a regular basis. It’s got fog that’s wetter than rain and the city reeks of burnt barley. The community is incestuous and has its own cultural maffia. It’s somehow both backward and too far ahead of itself. It accepts the filthy Corrs in its midst. When it stings, it stings you bad and when it asks for money, you end up broke.

But when it soothes, you don’t want it to end.

Perfect. That’s how I’d describe our little visit to Dublin last week. So perfect that coming home – normally a thing of beauty – pales in comparison and I’m having a hard time getting back into my groove.

Mr Hg and I flew in just before noon on Thursday. We checked into the Central Hotel on Exchequer Street. We grabbed excellent pub lunch (roast chicken & chips) at Davy Byrne’s and tried a new stout (Guinness Brew 39. Our verdict: watery, bland.). Got caffeined up at the Avoca café. Then saw Hazel O’Connor belt out a few old ones and a few new ones at Tower Records, hooked up with a friend on the spot, chatted with Ms O’Connor about mutual acquaintances and then sauntered down to the O’Reilly Theatre for Consigliere Friday’s outing with the Crash Ensemble and Gavin Bryars. Which was very, very good. Except for Bryars’ Jesus Blood Never Failed Me, which I’ve always detested. Die, tramp, die.

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There are too many lenses too chose from, enough to drive a camera enthusiast crazy. But I think I’ve got it narrowed down. I’m looking to buy a 20 or 24mm prime (i.e. a fixed focal length, not a zoom) in New York. It’ll be good to capture the city and should become my standard ‘walk around’ lens. Good zooms (Canon L-series, i.e. not the consumer type) are too expensive for my budget and consumer zooms are too soft for me as I’ve become used to the quality generated by my 50mm and 85mm Canon primes.

These are my options:

Canon 20mm/2.8 | Canon 24mm/2.8 | Sigma 20mm/1.8 | Sigma 24mm/1.8

If it’s all about saving $$, I should pick a Canon lens. The difference between prices here and in the USA is quite a bit more than $100. There’s not as big a difference for the Sigma brand. Around 30 to 80 dollars (though they do come with hoods and tube cases. Canon is stingy on them.). It seems from the many tests and opinions I’ve read that the Sigmas out-perform their Canon counterparts for these particular focal lenghts. I reckon I’ll end up with one of the Sigmas, whichever feels the best on the day. They’re prettier too. Always important.

If money was no option, I’d probably get the Canon 16-35/2.8 L.

Also gots me one of these rapid Sandisk cards.

J.D. is so going to be the next singer of OB: INXS.

While MiG the most ‘theatre’ of all and not in a good way, it’s J.D. who understands the theatre of rock. Check out his performance of Pink Floyd’s ‘Money’. The guy has vision. I’m also digging the rhinestone megaphone that he uses in ‘Pretty Vegas’, the song he co-wrote with Andrew Farriss. Well, I would, wouldn’t I? His performance of ‘By my side’ was subtle and I love the voice. That hint of Elvis that everybody hates so much? It’s a good thing. Elvis doesn’t have the patent on it. It’s Scott Walker. It’s Bowie. Totally floats my boat, anyway. I’ve been humming ‘Pretty Vegas’ for the last couple of days.

MiG’s the next to go. Too feminine, too sweet, too theatre, too squeaky clean. An ill fit with the Farriss brothers. Then it’ll between Marty and J.D. And Marty? Maybe an audience favourite, but he’s just completely wrong for INXS. The grunge voice and the arrogance cum naivety in thinking he can change and lead this band, come on. His idea that INXS invented ‘dance rock’ and that he can make them compete with the new new wave bands… please. Convoluted much? Poor sod, I nearly cacked myself when he started to ‘explain’ the music business to OB:INXS.

My money’s still firmly on J.D.

Maybe Suzie can join Fleetwood Mac now she’s eliminated. That’s where she belongs.

I think I must have missed something, somewhere.But why is Tony Christie at number 1 in the British charts?

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