Waiting for a dream

Young and Catholic
Que?

I bet you all got them before, those worthless junk-emails about free loans, free degrees, free cars, free whatevers. Now some of them really make me wonder.

Today I received a mail from the people of L'Oreal ('cause I'm worth it!!) about free shampoo... Dear Mr. and Mrs. L'Oreal, could I kindly suggest you to go and fuck yourselfs... I've been going baldly where no man has gone before since I was sixteen. Do send me some free razorblades so I can shave my skull and slit your wrists. Thank you.

Another urban myth I want to tackle: although there won't be much word to mouth to prove the following statement: I am not in any way impaired in the hanging department. I appreciate you all want to give me a few inches more, but as Hulla says: "An enormous cock is just a pain in the arse".

And last but not least: the meet-hot-singles-tonight-mails. Yes, I'm single. I can live with it, I'm not sure I could live with you, so bugger off. And I always get invited to meet fat chicks... What is that? First of all: I get vertigo when if I am high up. Second of all: I wouldn't want to burn my arse on the lightbulb. So please: anybody with a BMI above 40: get a live, you sure as hell ain't getting mine!

But the best one I've got: Young and Catholic. Young and Catholic? What do you take me for? A Catholic priest? If a girl thinks I'll be interested in organized religion, she is definitely barking up the wrong tree. Take a hike, Marie Magdalene.

Now excuse me, I'm gonna read the genuine mail I've got (all two of them..)

Posted by Bietje at Wednesday, July 26, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Fock off, fock off, fock off
My views on the peace process in the Middle East

Since my main man, DVLMN, is very worried about the lack off politically inspired posts on this blog lately: here is one.

In the words of Tommy Tiernan: "Does Israel give a rat's arse about what anybody's thinking? Blowing up people left, right and centre and then addressing the United Nations: Fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off, fock off. To the Palestinians: fock off. You can't be living here. Fock off to some place you DON'T come from. We've applied for planning permission in the old Testament. It's just come through, so FOCK OFF."

Well, to all you freaks blowing each other up (and that includes you Mr. George -oops was my mike still on when I said the Hezbollah have to stop this shit- Dubbaja Bush): FOCK OFF!

Aaaah, ain't the summer a great season for hatred...

Posted by Bietje at Monday, July 17, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Songs of stamina and endurance
One feels a theme developing, huh?

This morning I continued my quest for the six-pack with a light recovery-run. After Sunday's epic, I continued the Bietje's Best Badminton Battle yesterday, and - due to a combination of physical strength, technical ability, cunning tactics and basic nitty-gritty - demolished my co-worker with a rather overwhelming 4-0 victory. This morning I went along the same tour I've described to you earlier (face it DVLMN, it must be more than 16K, the bit along the Coupure along is about 4. I should know, I ran it during the official 10K Ghent-run...).
Started of really slow, stopping in my tracks to do the necessary stretching. After about half an hour, I got going, stepping it up every now and then. Along the Coupure I really dug deep, getting the heart rate up to 190; going flat out and then accelerating even more. Trees were swaying, frothy waves were forming on the Coupure and I do believe I saw one of those little tourist boats tip over. The smell of burnt rubber told me it was time to slow down (or was it my breakfast resurfacing?)... Ok, I was hardly Michael Schumacher, I don't even think I was Ralph. But you get up at eight and burn a thousand calories first thing in the morning. Anyway, feel great. Been watching my food (used to eat with my eyes closed...), lay of the booze and I've lost over two stones by now. Two days of rest, another badminton game on Friday and then another run (Menen-Kortrijk and back?) on Saturday, before we go off to the PPKLTS-party in Roeselare. C yis!

Posted by Bietje at Tuesday, July 11, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Playing the athlete
Pain and suffering in various tempos

Due to the scorching weather these last days, I hadn't really been keeping up my running program. Last decent run was Wednesday week, with a stop at Daf's place (see the man off to holiday). Meanwhile I've been involved in an intense badmintonstruggle with my colleague Francois, to determine who's the best badmintonner in the office (it's me, off course, although last Friday he held me to a drawl, fair play to you, Swa)...

But this morning, I felt I had to make up for lost time. Weather being slightly overcast, even a slight drizzle: perfect conditions for a top performance. And so off we went.
The first half hour the feeling can best be described as: "Oh my God" (God not being the landlord from The Annexe Inn in Keel, but rather this Canadian bloke whom I saw at Cactusfestival yesterday- Rufus you still got it, bitch). My legs felt like they were gonna explode, I couldn't find my rhythm and my breathing was going crazy. I knew I shouldn't have had that yoghurt at breakfast.
The second half hour I kinda got into the groove: I wasn't going to give up, I had to do at least an hour. Legs were good, breathing was fine and I really went at it flat out for at least five kilometers. And then the last thirty minutes I felt like Lestat de Lioncourt: I knew I had died ages ago, but I never felt more alive. The world beside me had gone. It was only me, the sweat gushing from my back and my aching legs. Still running at 80% of my maximum heartrate, I picked up the pace even further. For the first time ever, I really felt like Declan...

For those of you who know Ghent: from the Rotonde, I ran along the Leie, under the King Albertbridge, passing the Europabridge, to the Blaarmeersen. One and a half tour around the lake, I left the Blaarmeersen along the Watersportbaan. I went back along the Leie, got under the bridge at the Charles De Kerckhovelaan. It took me to the Coupure, which I followed to the Rozemarijnbridge, where I turned to get back to the Leie. I followedd the Leie again to the Europabridge, where I crossed and ran back to the Rotonde... Must be about 20km, I guess. According to my heartrate meter I burned 1741 calories...

Now: kick back, relax, finish the Poe Shadow and go and see Crash in the Studioskoop...

Posted by Bietje at Sunday, July 09, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Reality is more exciting than fiction
NOT!

During my last visit to Dublin, I did more than just buy CD's (see previous post). I also bought books... Long overdue was the purchase of American Psycho. Of course I saw the movie, but the book is always better, off course, especially with a vivid imagination as oneselfs...

Another bargain I found was Scipio by Ross Leckie. For those of the populace who think Scipio the new WWF-heavyweight champion: Scipio was one of the true great Romans, up there with Caesar and Augustus and he was the one who kicked Hannibal's -elephants included- butt in Zama. He is also the wise man who appears in Cicero's De Res Publica and explains the constellation of the Roman Republic through a dream. Another novel flirting with this subject has been Iain Pearse's, The dream of Scipio, one of the best books I've read to date. (How highbrow am I???)

Third and final Irish acquisition was The Poe Shadow by Matthew Pearl. Pearl is right up there with Pearse fighting for the title of Bietje's finest author. His first novel, "The Dante Club" was a sort of "Seven" murder-thriller with people being murdered as described in Dante Alighieri's Divina Comedia. His next exploit deals with the mysterious death of Edgar A. Poe... Absolutely gripping stuff.
Only blemish on the men's coat of arms: he gets praise from Dan fecking Brown. You know, the guy who has one story and managed to squeeze five (fifth is on the way) books out of it. Ok, the Da Vinci Code was a page turner, but if you replace Opus Dei with Illuminati you get Angels and Demons (or De Bernini mysterie in Flemish).
He now is working on a story about free-masonry: way to go dude! His characters are wafer thin and the plot is hardly as gripping as a US-presidential in Florida. The film sucked, critics roared. Well, guess what. If you have a lousy book to start with... Don't get me wrong: I read both Da Vinci and Angels and Demons in a couple of days, but they're fast food. Nothing against a quick hamburger every now and then, but I prefer to sit down to a nice lobster. Pearl and Pearse would be the lobsters in this story...

Posted by Bietje at Thursday, July 06, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

The next big thing
But I've one question, I want something,I want more

In January I read an article in which they asked established singer-songwriters who would be the next thing. The established singer-songwriter on top of my list has to be Joseph Arthur. I'm sure not a lot of you heard from him, but that would be your loss. His concert in the Botanique, last October, is about the most baffling performance I've ever seen.

So who did Joseph recommend? Nerina Pallot. You wouldn't have heard a lot of this lady, since here album is not yet available in Belgium. I bought Fires and also her first record, Dear frustrated superstar in Dublin. I've recently heard her new single Everybody's gone to war on the Belgian radio, but don't be fooled by this highly commercial track.

Nerina's got amazing lyrics, great melodies and an angelic voice. Sometimes she has a whiff of Sheryl Crow or Allanis Morisette to her, but she is in a different league all together. A European tour has been announced, so that's gonna be money well spent...

(Oh, and she's absolutely hot as well!!!)

Jump - Nerina Pallot

Oh good Lord above, I'm immune to the love of a good man
I go for the suckers, the mean motherfuckers I can't resist.
If I should get bitten. As long as he's smitten I understand
That pain comes with pleasure,
such bittersweet treasure cannot be missed.

So how can you help me now?I can't help myself....

I go on and jump, give it a try
Checking the parachute, see if it flies.
Oh if I should break my neck I never bruise....
I go on and jump, give it a try
Don't call the ambulance, I'm still alive
And if I should break my neck I'll make the news.

The Friday night ritual of pulling habitual non-entities.
The lawyers, the bankers, the next morning thank you's and "call you soon..."
These public school faces, I thought time erases one's misery
Oh no, it comes back to haunt you, old photos will taunt of your big mistake

So how can you save me now?
I can't save myself....

I go on and jump, give it a try
Checking the parachute, see if it flies.
Oh if I should break my neck I never bruise....
I go on and jump, give it a try
Don't call the ambulance, I'm still alive
And if I should break my neck I'll make the news.

Posted by Bietje at Monday, July 03, 2006 | Permalink | Comments