Nat

is het gravelpad dat zachtjes kraakt onder mijn gympies. De deur piept hard achter mij dicht. Een rilling glijdt langs mijn rug als ik de geur van een open haard diep opsnuif. Weer dat gemis, Roemenië. Ik blijf een moment staan, snuif nogmaals de geur op, laat het gevoel op mij inwerken. Deze vreemde pijn, de mix van sentiment en gemis. Ik zet mijn voeten richting uitgang van het Begijnhof. Rond dit uur is het meest aangenaam, geen mensen die mij kunnen zien, geen mensen die ik wil zien. Eindelijk het regent, zachtjes hoor ik het druppen met hier en daar het gekletter van een kapotte regengoot waar het water met meer geweld op de grond valt. Ik kom bij de uitgang van het Begijnhof en draai af richting kerk. Langzaam wandel ik, mijn blik naar de grond gericht. Ik zie het gat in mijn rechterschoen. Geen geld voor nieuwe en geen geld voor reparatie. Onwillekeurig denk ik na over dit probleem. Hoe lang zou het nog duren voordat ik schoenen kan kopen? Ik vraag me af hoe lang het nog duurt voordat ik weer fatsoenlijk boodschappen durf te doen. De afgelopen 2 jaar hebben mij totaal geconditioneerd om bijna geen geld meer uit te geven. Zeker niet aan eten. Althans het kost mij de grootste moeite om dat te doen. Ik loop voorbij de kerk die statig de donkere nacht in torend. Honderden jaren oud, onverstoorbaar zoveel gezien en te vertellen. Ik kom bij de automatique, ik verga van de dorst. ik zoek naar iets wat me zal bevallen. Ik zie een vrolijk blikje met knallende kleuren, iets exotisch. Ik werp 2 euro in de gleuf en bestudeer hoe een soort van robot lift het blikje behendig opvangt en naar de uitgang transporteert. Ik hoor het vegen van een bezem en zie aan de overkant de kelner van "den Bottel" het terras schrobben. Ik kijk om me heen en zie een andere automaat. Het was mij ontgaan dat er ook bier te verkrijgen was. Bier uit een automaat. Belgischer kan het niet. Ze hebben ook wijn, ik besluit er een wijntje bij te nemen. Nog een zak chips en ik ben weer op pad. Ik erger mij dat het Lays chips zijn. Te zout en niet te vreten. Ik baal van deze merken die het straatbeeld en de winkelrekken vult. Diversiteit aan smaak gaat verloren door de globalisten. Lays, Pringles, Coke, Pepsi allemaal hetzelfde. Ze maken ons dom en willen ons doen geloven dat het "cool" is om deze merken te gebruiken, dat het geluk in een cola blikje zit. Ik loop terug naar de kerk en buig net voor de kerk af. Ik loop langs een paar graven. Mijn oog valt op een fotootje van een jonge knaap in strak en stijf pak. 1924-1945 zie ik in het donker. Ontrukt uit ons leven door een vliegende bom. Ik loop verder langs de paar overgebleven graven. Waarschijnlijk was het kerkhof veel groter vroeger dan de 10-tal graven die er nu nog staan. Meer als decoratie dan als kerkhof denk ik bij mezelf. Ik kom op de lange straat achter de kerk die recht naar het oude kasteel loopt. De jeugdgevangenis. Terwijl ik loop kijk ik om me heen, neem alle details in mij op, schaduwen die bewegen achter gordijnen, blauw licht van televisies flakkert tegen de muren. Ik denk aan gisteravond, aan het feestje waar ik was en wat mij vervulde vol walging en afschuw. Goedkoop plat publiek, nederlandse import in België. Dikke naakte vrouwen, die dansen op een podium, oud vlees in goedkoop lak bij elkaar gebonden. Veertiger mannen die nog even gesnoven hebben aan een flesje testoseron. Lillend oud vlees op Organza achtige beats. Nietszeggend, afgetakeld, plat, decadent, genitaliën gericht, breinloos. Ow ik liet me weer eens meeslepen in mijn eigen enthousiamse en daar stond ik dan. Balen, van de entreeprijs, balen van de opgewarmde diepvries saté, dat als eten door moest gaan. Balen van de muziek, de goedkope parfum van de vrouwen om mij heen. Ik speelde mee, ik deed alsof ik het leuk vond, tenslotte had ik betaald, maar ik was liever thuis gebleven. Soms moet je dit denk ik zien, om te weten wat je niet wilt, en om zeker te weten wat je wel wilt. Mijn afkeer voor groepsdingen, groepsmensen, platte humor, onderbroekenlol wordt ook nog eens versterkt. Ik zei vandaag tegen Kate, ik wil meer en meer mij afzonderen van mensen. Ik heb meer en meer minder trek in mensen, zelfs vrienden. Ik wil mijn eigen kleine wereldje, mijn eigen bubble en iedereen buiten houden. Ik kan het tegen haar zeggen omdat ze het begrijpt. Ze is ook zo. Ze wil het ook. Vreemd dit meisje aan de andere kant van de aardbol, andere culttuur en andere leeftijd, en ze voelt hetzelfde. Soms is er best wel die angst dat ik het idealiseer en dat ik wil dat ze hetzelfde is, maar toch, ik zie het en voel het. Zijn we dan toch die soulmates? Ik ben intussen bij de weg naar de nachtwinkel aangekomen. Ik denk weer aan een paar jaar geleden, aan Boekarest. Die vreemde ontheemdheid, die depressieve omgeving die mij gelukkig maakte. Ik den aan Garbage, "I am only happy when it rains". Ja het is waar ik ben alleen gelukkig als het regent. Terwijl ik peins hoor ik de deurbel van de nachtwinkel, even gauw een doos kattevoer.....

The most obsolete institute in this world

It was some coincedence that I saw last week the visit of the pope in Brazil and next to that a historical part of a series about Rome. The part was about the emperor Constantine and how he overtook power, defeated his enemies and installed the christian religion as the new state religion. This event was not merely because he was such a true believer but more because it was a strategic decission otherwise his empire would be torn up by the differences in religion. The story also goes that he was only baptized before he died, and that the circumstances were more that he was to weak to resist then actually asking for it. What this all has to do with the pope. It's quite simple, it was at the council of Nicea at June 325 AD that Constantine put down the rules for the modern church as we know it. To make Christian religion more addeptable to the non Christians he even added some none Christian symbols and rituals into the Christian church. Furthermore he and his bishops anounced Jezus to be the son of God and also removed some of the original testaments of some Apostels. When I actually think in what way and under which circumstances the basics for the Catholic church are founded then the whole concept of the Catholic church becomes even more ridiculous.

And here I am today finding myself in front of the tube, seeing an old guy dressed up in a richly embroided curtain telling us what to do, no abortions, no sex with condoms, no sex before marriage, no gays and no lesbians, no to all that is forbidden by the rules of the church or else you go to hell or you become excomunicated. There was even a time that sex was sure something that would entirely be something for reproduction and pleasure was an evil thing. So is that all this guy can anounce? What solutions they really bring to this world? Thousands of people are dying every day of war and starvation. Many of those wars even have a religious background. People are dying and killed for no reason, but all this joker can make a fuss about is the things I mentioned before. Only punishment, no solutions. Actually not even the love or compassion that they praise and spread. I have much respect for the real priests and nuns working in harsh conditions and show mercy and compassion to those who need it most, it's just a pitty thing that with that the catholic believe is spread as a true thing. The only truth is the purity of these solitude workers and their own personal faith. In my opinion the church has nothing to do with it and the Catholic religion is just a bad joke. And for that you just have to look into history. It was not that long ago that people were burned for being different. Hell they even whiped out complete societies that were supposed to be a threat to their power. In that case I respect much Sinead o'Connor when she was tearing up the picture of the former pope. But she was perfectly right, rulers from ivory towers. Talking about hell and damnation for us sinners. The only thing I appreciate of the church is the beauty of architecture and the art that was created over the years. In my opinion there is not any true religion. Most religions only created suffering, war, dirty politics, differences and power to the wrong people. As far as I can see the church as an institute is just a concept created by people who wanted to overpower people. The true story about Jezus and God we will never know because in time the bible is only filled with deformations and lies. True believe is in every normal person, we all know where lies the difference in wrong and right. It's time to whipe out all traces of religion and that we start to search for the responsebility in ourselves, instead of blaming a God for all terror in this world. Common sense and feeling the energy around us is all we need. In fact the Church became obsolete and one day we will just find the remains of churches as we find pyramids nowadays. A witness of some other religion that faced this world in the past.

The Inner Circle

There are always hidden worlds amongst ours, that are for a few obvious to attend for others never to be discovered. Some of these worlds have a long mystical background and are centuries old. Filled with rituals and secret initations. Others consist of fullfilling ones desires and fantasies, but to much of a taboo to be showed in the open. I like sometimes to wander around in these twilight zones of mankind. To observe, to experience to meet interesting people to add to my collections of extraordinairy experiences. A few weeks ago was one of those nights. Thru a friend I was invited to attend a party in Bruxelles. The party was arranged by a circle op people that have a greater interest in SM with a special interest in bondage. Though I am not interested to be a subject to it, I am more interested in the visual aspect of it. For me bondage is an Art and feast for the eyes instead of something I would like to experience physically. My attraction to SM is not so physical either, it's more or less the fascination for the game of power then a game of pain. I see it more as an interesting psychilogical experience of trust and power. I always wonder who is really in control, the dominating one or the submissive one? Anyway, we took off to Bruxelles that is a small hour of driving, and we found ourselves back in a small street in the heart of this european capital. The address that was given to us looked rather abandoned, in the street was no living soul and nothing pointed out that there would be a gathering or party of some kind. The building was caught in between some other buildings that at daytime were probably shops. The address itself looked like a travel agency, but one that used to have it's glory days some decades ago. It showed a window with pictures of the caribean, a surf board, fish nets and some other tropical objects decorating the space behind the glass. The pictures were yellowed by the sunlight, the objects looked dusty. My first thought was that this travel agency went out of business some time ago. Next to the window was a glass door with two people at the end of a rich decorated hallway. Somehow the hallway didn't fit to the facade of the building. Therefore it looked like secret passage to another dimension. The decorations in the wall were marble pieces mostly found in old french style fireplaces. They were put in the wall like parts of a jigsaw puzzle. We stepped in and the people gave us a warm welcome. They checked the guestlist and then let us through into a "vestiaire". We put down our coats and then went on. The next door let us into a small room with a bar. The passages between the main hallway and the bar were all a bit tiny, therefore making the feeling stronger of something secret, a hidden world. The host made us feel welcome and we payed our contribution of 40 euro's. It included the whole evening of food, entertainment and drinks. We moved on to the other room and for a moment I was startled. It's hard to describe how it looked. It was rather overwhelming. The main area was like 3 stories high, and I could look all the way up. The whole place was richly decorated, and gave a feeling of a boudoir. But a closer look revealed all kinds of crazy objects. The main color was of the room was red it was filled with objects like old telephones, scarfs, glass beats, curly iron frames, french lillys, flowers, old electrical switch boards, industrial objects, mirrors, chains, antiques, objects of Art Deco and Art Noveau, chairs, tables, pillows, sofa's, a bar, signs. I mean I can't still find words to describe the atmosphere, but I have to say it was breathtaking. Maybe you could say it was a collection of junk, but still it was put with so much fantasy and creativity that you never had a dull moment just looking around. The room was filled with the invited guests, and everybody had his own style of clothes. There were people dressed in black, some more fetish style, with leather, lack or latex. Everybody had his or her style, and there was a highly erotic atmosphere. In some smaller area next to the main area was a cloaking room with small closets to put away our bags. When I made a tour thru this place I saw many objects to fullfill different acts for bondage, SM but also for plain sexual games. I found some stairs up to the stories that were visible from the main room, and every floor had it's own destinct atmosphere. A Jacuzzi was found, many rooms with cozy corners with pillows and matrasses. One room contained even a motorcycle with sidecar and a Deux Chevaux, something to fullfill the most outrageous fantasy? As the night went on many interesting acts were done, and some very interesting bondage acts were shown to the audience. The food and drinks were terrific. I met some very interesting people and I had a good time trying to make conversation in French without even speaking one word of it. The level of the people was from a very different kind then I normally meet on the more ordinairy fetish events and parties. Therefore admittance to this inner circle is strictly on invitation only. This is the safeguard to prevent the event from sliding down into something common and maybe dirty. I was delighted to be part of this special ocassion and I am looking forward for the next one to come.

"JOB"

The past weeks I experienced like a passing huricane. Now I sit here with my cup of Turkish coffee. Staring at the ceiling. Thoughts follow each other in slow pace. It's just now that I start to understand the impact of the sudden change in my life. It's 20 months. Yes 20 months ago that I lost my job. It was the start of unwanted events and total devistation for a longer period that would be ahead of me. And somehow I knew it, the day my manager told me that he didn't want to work with me anymore. I saw it coming but I ignored it all the time. The moment he spoke those words, this hypocrytical bastard, I was filled with sorrow but I was also set free. His distrust that I felt for months, the way he treated me as if I would be somekind of suspect. I couldn't stand the pressure. I know partly I am cause of the problem, because it's a fact that I can't stand people who look over my shoulders, pressuring me, controlling me. I function the best when I am free and trusted. Slowly I lost my trust and my motivation. I got phonecalls on the middle of the day to check to see what I was doing. While my colleagues were at the same time getting their kids from school during business hours. He was expecting results from me in 6 months that would be normally be reasonable to expect in 3 years. It's a long story and to detailed to get to the point why this is so, but believe me I know the business well. Anyway. The situation was not paticular good to find within a reasonable time again a job, so I was fearing the worst.

I put a lot of effort in trying to find a new job, but like I mentioned the climate for a new job was not that good. Of course there were enough jobs available as simple labor in some factory, but I was even refused for that. Their simple answer was that my background was to heavy to do a simple job. So I had to turn to the welffare and get money to live. And boy, I was hit back hard to poverty. Of course there are always people having a worser situation then mine. At the end of the day I had a more expensive rent and other costs based on the wage I earned before. But when you are without money, it's not easy just to move and find another place to live. Then again I was also positive in changing my situations and find a decent job again, so I would be able to continue living in this house and things would be back soon to normal.

But I was wrong, it took me 20 months. First I was enjoying the freetime, after working for more then 25 years I felt that after so many dissapointments I was entitled to make a step back and just make from this bad situation also something I could enjoy. So I was able to focus on making art and pictures. I even had the hope that maybe with working hard and making pictures I could change my profession. But, at the end I only met people that were using me. Because I didn't proof myself as photographer I thought it would be wise to do some networking and proof myself worthy as a photographer. But I am sorry to say, Belgiums are only interested in something when it's for free. So it didn't quite work, I think I also met the wrong people. One among the was P. (I won't mention his name). We started to have a friendship where I was doing different things in photography for him because he tried to manage a band. But the friendship became sour. Most of it was alcohol abuse and drug abuse. I can't deal with people that do this and can't take them serious.

In those 20 months my financial situation became bad, my debts raised and I couldn't pay my rent anymore. And there was nowhere I could turn to or some way to deal with it. Besides of that I started to loose the rythm of everyday life. Living single and without a job and also being somekind of creative night owl, my life started to shift from daytime to nighttime, A very bad but logical thing to happen. Besides of that i was really in some depressed moods, and I don't feel like mention to much about it but was a very serious condition. An other thing that happened is that as an unemployed person you become "conterminated" and most people didn't want to deal with me anymore. It only proofs that our society is only mentioned for people that have succes. It made so clear how everything functions and I even understand more about people that loose everything and why they become the way they are. I was always balancing on the edge. I have to admit I gave up on myself pretty much. But always found some way to manage to keep on breathing and move on with it. Also my lovelife was "zero". It looked like I had a sign on my forehead saying, hurt this sucker. So to prevent in loosing total control of my life I started working in a factory and later at DHL Logistics. Believe me I can write books about it. Normally I worked as key accountmanager for several jobs and now I was packing lipsticks at DHL in cartons. I don't feel to good for a job like that, but boy, the people. Racism, ignorance, disrespectfull, stupid, and more of these labels I can use for the environment I had to work in. I don't feel better then any other, I can addept easily but believe me it was hell to work like that. I was even accused to be to smart. I just wanted to do my fucking job and be left alone. The most idiot thing of it all was that the wage was even less then the wellfare money that I would get normally. So just by being a good citizen and work I was even punished by getting less money.

So it's 20 months, and I started the 1st of may as accountmanager again. I still can't believe it, I can't believe I survived this ordeal and slowly are getting on my feed again. It was the worst time of my life and I lost a lot of trust in other people. I also see how society hardened and that there is no place for people that have no job. Who volunteers for having no job anyway? In my opinion having a job is overrated, and at least I kept a few friends that never judged me on what I do but on who I am. I am somehow glad that I experienced this period and the first thing I did yesterday, is cleaning up my addressbook, maillist and MSN list. I have at least again a bit control in my life, though I still have to deal with 20 months of build up debts. It will take a couple of years to get back on my feet but to close this story with the one event that started this all; meeting Kate, she made me feel rich again.

Irina Ionesco

It was 1974, I was about 11 years old. As a boy I always liked to stumble around at the addic of my grandparents. My grandfather was receiving every month a magazine called "Stern". It was a german monthly magazine that was filled with stories about politics, scandals, documentaries, movies, music and now and then also some nudity. As 11 years old boy I was just discovering the secrets of sexuality, the things that parents didn't talk about. The more things were covered up the more I was curious. One day I sneaked up the addic and I found one of the editions of "Stern". On the front page was a picture of a girl, she was rather young but the way she was photographed was highly erotic, at the same time the picture radiated something magical. It turned out that the pictures were made by Irini Ionesco, and the girl in the pictures was her very own daughter Eva.

Irina Ionesco (born on September 3, 1935) is a French photographer born in Paris, France. She was the daughter of Romanian immigrants. She spent her childhood years in Constanţa, Romania before she moved to Paris. She traveled and painted for several years before discovering photography. Her work is described as erotic.In 1974 she exhibited some of her work at the Nikon Gallery in Paris and attracted lots of attention. She was soon published in numerous magazines, books, and featured at galleries across the globe.

I remember the article, because I watched german television I could read german easily. The article mentioned that she was received quite controversial because she was picturing her own daughter in erotic and nude settings. The first pictures she made Eva was just 5. She had her studio just at home in her small appartment. The windows were covered with shutters to keep the light out and the walls and ceiling were painted black. The interior looked like a boudoir and all the accessories gave a magical feeling of a fairytale world. The funny thing about this is that she used really cheap and old fabrics, lace and objects. Nothing of what she used had any value. But it was the magic she made with her lens, and the way how she used the objects and fabrics. What she was doing with old fabrics she was also applying to the models. She like to have an ugly model and then create the magic and turn the model into a mysterious representation of beauty. The way she worked she taught completely herself, her gear consisted of a simple SLR camera with a 50 mm lens. She was actually a painter who by coincedence discovered photography.

Some people were condemning her method regarding the nude pictures of her daughter, others were seeing her as a genius. Nevertheless, I never felt that this was something bad, there was a certain beauty and mystical feeling radiating from her pictures and even now I can remember the strange feelings they stirred up in me. It was not somekind of sexual feeling, it was something deep, untouchable. A longing to melt into the odd scene, this hidden world, this boudoir like atmosphere. I think that these pictures left a mark in my mind that would stay forever. I never saw such beauty in a pictures again, and I can still feel lost looking at them. It took many years that Irina would be acknowledged as an important photographer that had a larger influence. Strange enough she became very liked in Japan, and over the years she traveled many times to Japan and had quite a few expositions in Japan. There are even some limited books published in Japan that cost around $900. Though her role is important for photography she is not known by many people. I think she is one of the rare photographers that knew how to expose the beauty of women in a way that still makes me speechless. I can only stare and wonder. It creates a longing to something unknown, something lost. It's hidden beauty, mysterious, mystical, there is space for guessing and exploring. Especially in these days where nudity and porn are found everywhere her pictures even have more value. My biggest wish is to find one day a copy of one of her books.

Old times

When I did my duty I went to the airforce and was later stationed in a secret cave in the south of Holland. It was called the Joint Operations Center and it was a HQ of Nato. I was working as a telex operator. Telex is nowadays a fossile of communication. I remember the times around x-mas and new year when the connected stations were sending messages with drawings that were completely build up from characters. Later on the net when there were no pictures, only text, people were using the same technique, nowadays knows as ASCII drawings. Looking around on YouTube I found one drawing as a sort of comment, that I found rather funny. So I thought to post it here.

................... .... ... /´ /)
.................... ..,../¯ ..//
.................... ..../... ./ /
.................... ..,/¯ ..//
.................... ./... ./ /
............./´¯/' ...'/´¯`•¸
........../'/.../... ./... ..../¨¯\
........('(...´(... ....... ,~/'...')
.........\.......... ..... ..\/..../
..........''...\.... ..... . _.•´
............\....... ..... ..(
..............\..... ..... ...\

Disgusting MSN

Everytime when I open my MSN I get this stupid unwanted news window, with really stupid news items, like "boy and girl make love in wrong car" or "overview of plastic surgery gone bad". Like I really would be interested in this kind of brainless news.

But today something else caught my atttention, here is a picture of that item, it's in dutch and I will make a small translation:



In a nutshell it's a news item about the shooter of Virginia Tech "Cho Sueng Hui". The little story states how he send a package containg several video's, pictures and letters to NBC. So far nothing bad, it's all over the news and it may be considered as important, though I wonder why because this happens every day in Iraq. It's a tragedy indeed, but we have far more bigger tragedies outside and they never make the news. Anyway, what is my concern and what makes me disgusted about MSN is the 2 buttons underneath the story. One button is green and says: "kicken" what would be translated mean something like "cool" and the other button in red says "dumpen" what maybe some of you will indeed recognize. It means "dump". If there would be some hilaric or bizar story I would eventually understand and even laugh about the matter. But this voting system is really disgusting. You can actually see that the whole setup for this site is focused on youths. And that is exactly my point, this is how our society is evolving. It's shallow, brainless and totally superficial and with a total lack of feelings to make news like something you can shoot at like in a shooting gallery.Hot or not, cool or dump, is this really how this kind of news should be rated? Anyway it seems that rating systems are found everywhere on the net it's this kind of bullshit we see everywhere everyday. The problem is that any nitwit can put news on this site because it's in the section of "MSN reporter". So here is a platform offered to people to put news in a section where you can rate it as cool or dump. Do the developers of MSN have any brain at all? Or why is there not any editing on what would be accepted to put up here? What the fuck is wrong with this world? Why do we accept this and why some assholes think that we find this funny or even want this kind of garbage? It's totally the wrong place and the wrong thing to do. And even the fact that we have free services like MSN messenger and therefore are accepting this is actually the sad story of today. A lot of people will say, you don't have to look at it. It's like TV you just change the channel. But my point is that teenagers are part of this thing, and they become shallow and without any sense what is acceptable or not because they are exposed to this every day. Once the internet was a beautiful anarchistic thing without control and direction. But when it became the territory of the commercialists it was the end of a beautiful beginning.

"Erotikon"

Last monday was the official Kick-off of the project "Erotikon" I mentioned before. This was done at the 5th anniversay of the Colorbar in Antwerpen. The first part of the evening would be one for VIP and press the second part would be for the audience. To elaborate what this is all about; I take part in the project as a performer of one dance. See my former weblog entry.

We startd last monday at 1.00 pm with a general rehearsal. Putting the last details in place. For me it was the first time I had to rehearse with the tailormade outfit for this show. And of course some problems came up. The outfit was made so that my fellow dancers could stript me down. Because the show has an erotic background with fetishism angles the outfit was made from leather. But it turned soon out that while dancing I could loose my trousers. That was not completely the plan. So we made some small adjumstments on the spot. The funny thing was that the club where this kick-off took place has a stage but that it's not really meant for theatrical productions. So there would be some practical problems in how we approach the stage etc. But for the rest everything was fine, just being creative and solution driven makes things work. The team of people were amazing. First of all there is Marc Bogaerts he is the choreograph and he worked, to name a few, with the Royal Ballet of Flanders and Cirque du Soleil. He did a good job to teach people with no dancing experience at all in a few weeks with just a couple of rehearsals to perform a complete dance. We are still amateurs but for the untrained audience it looked perfect. Totally I performed 2 times that night. The biggest challenge was to hide my private parts. Because the at of the dance I am symbolicly "freed" of my malehood. And that will be revealed at the end so I had to hide my "pride" ;-) very well. I consulted a transvestite and it turned out that a lot of color skin tape is needed amongst some other rahter painfull tricks. So now I am anxious for the big show on 11 and 12 may. And I hope to find soon some pictures and eventual video's to add on this weblog about Erotikon.

Loveletters from Taiwan

Finally, they came. Kate her mail from Taiwan. Not just some ordinairy email, but real old fashioned physical evidence of the existence of a real person. How strange that I even call email ordinairy, but actually that's what it is these days. I found the note on the floor of my hallway and I rushed to the postoffice. Strange enough she made 2 attempts before, the first letter never arrived and the second one was sent back because I missed the note of arrival between the pile of paper spam I get on a daily bases. When I drove back on my bicycle, my heart started to beat in an crazed frequency. I realized that this was the first time I was holding something in my hands that she created. The very first physical touch of something that made 10.000 km of travel and what she had in her hands untill the moment came to push it thru the opening of a mailbox. The package contained many things, it made me feel I am for a moment part of her world. A ticket of some gig, a sticker, a cd with her professional photo's (for my project to build her a website), 2 letters, an index that showed the content of the package written in colorfull lines, her old plectrum, her phonebill (only one page out of 10) covered with my phonenumber (she named it the proof of our growing love), a birthday card, a sticker of old Paris and a brochure from some Donut chain. Ow how much I love being this silly over her package. It's a fact one day back in history I refused to grow up and I can feel very silly about these tokens and little stuff she sends me. I keep it under my pillow and sometimes before sleeping I read the letters again. I am greedy for her handwriting, I am greedy with the idea how her beautiful hands touched the paper with care and passion. Now it's my turn to send something back. I have to admit I prosponed it, but I also had some practical reasons for that. But I came up with the idea not send a letter but a small notebook. I started writing one night in the garden, a bottle of wine next to me, a candle for light. The idea to use a book is that it will travel back and forth between us. Thus adding words to each others writings. Next to words anything can be glued or taped inside this book. One day we will hold this book in our hands, and smile and see how our love evolved. The idea of creating something physical rather then something digital is wonderful old fashioned but somehow so much more value. Really Kate, I love us being silly!

The magical number of 100

Long I waited for this moment, though it's just another milestone for the real event. Today it will be 100 days from now that I will finally meet my little muse from Taiwan. But just another day and it will be less then 100 that I have to wait. When I came up with the idea to put this countdown on my weblog I was thrilled. One for mastering a piece of Java and second that I visually kept informed about the passing time. Time is a funny thing. Coz working an hour always takes longer then having fun for one hour. What came to my attention that in the beginning the days seem to fly. But later when the countdown was steadily going down with the same pace, it felt that it will take a lifetime before I meet her. But the feeling is still the same, she is worth the waiting, and it's funny how our relationship is evolving over the net. Me behind my PC mastering different programms on design, and photography, she doing her assingments and reading a book every 2 days. With the cam open it feels like we already have a life together. Maybe for others this will look like rubbish and foolish, and sometimes we need a reality check, but isn't it after all what our hearts desire and what we can make true? My reality check was also receiving mail, and I am not just talking the e-mail thing, I am talking about the real thing. Seeing her handwriting, her crazy thoughts, her stickers, her little things like the used plectrum made my heart almost jump from my chest. So now I keep it under my pillow and my most valuable treasure. Now it's my turn to send something back, I am excited about it and thinking what kind of stuff I can send from my world to hers. Much of my ideas are disturbed by my muse, because she already threw me some wishes, haha. I have the trust that being together will even be much more fun then it's now. I know, we are just 2 crazy people, from different worlds, age, culture and who knows what. But still we don't feel any difference at all. Another 100 days and a new chapter will be written in our book of adventures......

Kate's Lyrics

everytime when i see you walk into my sight

I can feel theres always something in your eye

the way youre walking like that, talking like that, acting like a homeless cat,

thats not the way I want it

theres someone whos taking away all your pride

I can feel all the fears running thro your mind

though I don't know what its like, be hurted like that, the wounds they just won't heal till now.

*wake up now, and find your light

its the chance of a lifetime

Don't waste it, don't waste it.

open your arms, embrace your life

Don't waste your tears, don't waste your tears for that.

These Lyrics kate wrote for me in the very beginning. And though I had the idea I was able to keep the pain inside of my past, she was seeing it all. She touched me deeply then, and she still touches me deeply now. I am silly sometimes and I can mix up names, but she knows it, how much place she has in my life. She inspired me to follow the light, she inspired me to believe in love again. And it's true, perception sometimes changes to much because of our experiences. So it's us who have to bend the perception back in it's original state, the state that makes us flow again like the winding river, instead of being the standing pool. I love you Kate for opening my senses.

Rehearsal for Erotikon

Here it is, a sneak preview on a project that I am happily to join in one of the dancing acts. Without any dancing experience and theatre knowledge I am one of the about 15 people that dance in this secret project of Praga Khan. Because officially it's not released yet The 16th of april we will have our official kick-off and introduction at the 5 years anniversary of the Color Bar in Antwerpen.The dance I will perform with Hanne and Jolijn will represent the triangular relation between a man and 2 girls. At first I will be trying to show my power and my desire for being dominant. But as the story evolves and a glimpse of every day reality I loose my power and at the end I am dominated by the 2 women, so here we have it true "Girl Power". During the dance they will strip me down untill I am fully naked and therefore vulnerable. The end will be a rather suprise and I am not going to reveal that part now ;-). After the official kick-off I will reveal more information on this project. Go HERE to the website of project Erotikon

"on the way home" by Kate

The Mysterie

Your chance to get real goosebumps, follow this link and do the following, take a random number like 42, then add the 4+2=6. Then deduct the 6 from 42 giving 36. Look in the table for the number 36 and remember the matching symbol, click her hand, and..... she will guess the symbol you have in your mind. Here you can find this creepy lady.

Embryo by Polymorphe France

A very touching and sensitive video from Polymorphe about the fetishsm for Latex. Sit back relax and feel. Don't you feel reborn?

The original website of the creator you can find here, and here you can find the original video in quicktime.

Kate in the photostudio.....

Some pics taken by friends of Kate. A bit enhanced by me. You can really see how much she loves modeling ;-)

Some of my impressions of Germany

Time wears off all sharp edges.

The decadence of mankind, or nothing
really changed over all these years?

Forgotten glory from the time of "der Kaiser".

I feel lust for another cup......

Love thy city.

Even now and then Teddy's commit suicide

How low can I get?

It's been more then a year now, the struggle to find a decent job. After I lost my job in september 2005 it wasn't a good situation in the market to find a job in sales again. The few jobs that were around were not interesting at all. Besides of that I lost a lot of my confidence. It's not easy get from one reorganisation into another. It also made my resume look bad. Every job interview I am questioned about those short term jobs I had. It's not my fault but hey, how to explain that to a new employer? In common they think there is something fishy about this guy. What they don't see is that I have the flexibility and all the strength to get back on my feet every time. So the year that's now behind me was a year of finding myself again and getting the trust that it will work out. But the truth is that it's seems almost impossible. I was doing fine with my latest job interview, I made my assessment very well, high score on experience, intellect, personality and commercial skills. I am getting into the third round, and then the shit hits the fan. For some unkown reason my former employer made a negative image of me. We agreed that I could also use him as a reference and therefor also named him in my resume, if I would had performed so badly as he says I did, why would I be so stupid to use him in my resume? I was totally in shock and taken by suprise. Besides of the short term jobs that I had for the last 5 years I now was facing a negative image. Of course they only asked this paticular last person about my history at this firm where I only worked for 9 months. They didn't made the effort to ask the other companies where I worked longer. So I was pictured as a liar and it felt I had no credibility at all. This whole weekend I was feeling like someone hit me with a hammer. For a year I am struggling to survive from wellfare money to temporary low paid jobs, just to find something serious again. So this nice former employer just ruins my future with his negative reference. The thing at the end is that as a jobseeker I have no credibility, an employer has it all. In regard to profession I am a serious person, I developed my skills and I have the benefit that I did many different things in my life. And when I am in an interview I want to show this all, but most important I don't like acting, I mean faking. These days they expect the acting part. I should be overflowing from enthousiasm for a new job. I am damn enthousiastic, but just like I am, seriously and without all the show and acting. That's just not me. But that's how it is, it's not good enough anymore. I score high on all the tests, people see me as charming, skilled and intelligent, I am just not a damn actor that praises the stars from heaven for a new job. My approach is as always serious. Maybe I just didn't find the right company and the right people. Today I will get the result from the interview, my premination is not that good. I just have to wait and see.....

The origin of fairytales