indian summer

I took a walk around the block. And then I walked to the pub. The local pub. And I had a beer. It felt like spring. And it smelled like spring. Even the sun shone like spring.

There’s another fork in the road, and it seems they always seem to come in September.
The trees are still swaying green but I can’t really hear the birds anymore.

Today was all about make or break. And guess what, I might have actually made it. This time.
Tomorrow I’ll be facing an adventure. Another adventure.

mr. berlioz

Ever since I've moved to live on the other side of the tram tracks, paranoia has been seeping in - what if I get run over, what if my head gets cut off, like Mr. Berlioz'...?

hunter (gatherer?)

After careful consideration and facing the facts I can testify that the whole essence of my being can pretty much be summed up by the following:

I (can) fuck your brains out - and that, not in a good way...

st.petersburg

I waited four years and you delivered. Your own way, a different way.

I took you in and held you. I slept. And slept and slept. In a room with shabby windows, where the frames, for the most part, performed as windows purely on their own free will.

And then there were makeshift windows that dotted the outer walls. People had craved and carved for light. There were doors that used to be back entrances, now front entrances. Courtyards beyond courtyards that can take you from one end of the block right through to the other. Beyond and beyond. Endlessly, it seemed.

The wind swept and the skies were iron-colored and heavy. It was cold and dark, but somehow it felt warm underneath. There were churches. People inside, coming and going. They all knew the routine - which crucifixes to kiss, which altars to bow at, which candle-stand for the living and which ones for the dead. Sacred water in the corner. Just drink.

I did.

commission.crimes.brussels.spring

It had been raining 24 hours straight, I was walking up the street and felt sorry for my shoes.

The wind made the rain fall vertical so that the drops were splashing on my eyeballs, blurring my vision. I blinked, my eyelids forming human windshield wipers.

There was a tiny black bird on the railing singing it’s little heart out in the jam of 5pm traffic.
Rue de la Loi.

The spring was pouring in.

impossible is nothing

Impossible is nothing.

We start out like that. That impossible is nothing. You get sent to kindergarden and then you get sent to school and the uni, and you simply know that impossible is nothing.

And then life kicks in, and sometimes you know that not all is possible. That there are disappointments and broken hearts and that your net salary is nowhere near of what you had in mind...

Not all is lost on life’s petty details- not all if you still find it in you to know that at times impossible is nothing. No really!!!

you know what?

You know what? ... Whatever!...

liirum-laarum

The thing is that... if you go for lunch and agree on just one beer and give in to persuasions of an another one you'll simply end up drunk at work at 3pm...

typical situation

It had been a typical day of grand thoughts and insecure thoughts, dreams and decisions.

I’d been very very late for work. I’d been worried about kitchen design and worried about the choice of tiles for the bathroom. And of keeping things together.

I’d been multitasking by making it to the pub, collecting a Xmas present from one end of town to watching a neurotic Woody Allen movie with you on your über and beyond entertainment system in the other end of town.

It’d been cold. As I left, you headed for the park. I measured the distance – 5 minutes.

At 11:30 pm I sat in the car at a car wash watching water turn into ice on my windshield. 7 minutes fit a phone call and a more than slightly worrisome thought of Hillary Clinton failing Iowa...

It's a typical situation
In these typical times
Too many choices, yeah
It’s a typical situation
In these typical times
Too many choices.
(Dave Matthews Band)