Waiting for a dream

Moving out...

2006-12-08T23:34:00.000+01:00

This blog is moving to www.myspace.com/biserbyt. See you there!!!

Water Closet Royale

2006-12-03T15:43:00.000+01:00

KGB isn't restricting its operations to London, baby. There after me for sure... It's been a shit house these last days. Quite literally. First of all I've been up to my tits in shite at work. Actually, up to my boss' tits: it's mostly his manure anyway and since he's only 4'1" it doesn't take all that much excrement to reach said tits. If you ever wanted to make a Smurf porn movie, I'll get you his number. But anyway, Wednesday evening I was about to explode since the crap-o-meter had reached overload at around lunchtime. My head was absolutely throbbing. That evening I went for a quick bite at the veggie fast food (that just spells disaster doesn't it...) and had a forest mushroom tagliatelle. I was hoping that the copious intake of mushrooms might expand my mind but to no avail. Something did expand though... That morning I awoke very much like Ronald Reagan in the Land of Confusion-video (not with an old tart next to me, but bathing in my own sweat...). Thought I'd be fine, but by the time I reached work, my stomach contracted again and my rear cargo hull discharged its dilithium crystals with an ease that would have made Scotty grasp for air. I'm sure some of Poetins agents poisoned my tagliatelle. I've got the hairdo, don't I?

And they lived happely ever after

2006-11-26T19:42:00.000+01:00

You just know that’s how the story ends. It always does, doesn’t it.
In stead of telling you what really happened – they lived in excruciating agony for about five years, then he took to the drink and came home early, pissed as a fart only to find her sucking the milkmans vainy pecker after which a bitter divorce ensued over who could have the Vectra. They never tell you that, do they ?
They just serve you the same warmed up horse shite over and over again. Boy meets girl, girl plays hard to get, but it all works out in the end.
Ok, maybe Bill threw us something of a curve ball with his Verona lovers. But he’s not fooling anybody, is he. An Englishman telling us about boiling, hot Latino loving. Surely not. Bare table leggs are enough to arouse your average Brit’s sexual ardour. And they are going to explain to us the basic rules of the Art of making the beast with the two backs ?
Romeo and Julliet, huh ;? What about the black dude. I’m sure little Juliet didn’t mind Mercutio Junior (probably not SO Junior) being introduced to her. Once you go black, you don’t go back. Anyway, Mr. Shakespeare didn’t do his research properly. I know a thing or two about Italian love.

One : All Italians have a serious Oedepus-complex. They only love la mama, that’s why they live with them ‘till they’re sixty-five. Freud would have had a field day with each and every one of these suckers. Paolo Maldini has won more heroïc battles in San Siro then Russell Maximus Meridius ever did in Germania, but you can bet your rear-end that Paolo still shits his knickers when he has to tell la mama he lost to Internazionale.
Two: Italian women are very much like Italian cars. Beautiful curves, amazing red exteriour, loads of shiny knobs you just want to fiddle with : in other words a very smooth ride. Only, once they hit forty-five it all goes horribly wrong. They’re impossible to handle, make the most frightening noises and you have to pay rediculous amounts of money on spare parts if you don’t want to be the joke of the neighbourhood. And I’m not talking about the cars here. My conclusion : Italian love is very overated and shouldn’t ever be the starting point for a universal love story.

Stiiiiiiiiii-raike trie

2006-11-23T18:20:00.000+01:00

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours, but I think that God 's got a sick sense of humour... Three grandparents who have a stroke in three weeks times. Fuck you , asshole!!

I saw Marc Reynebeau

2006-11-15T18:26:00.001+01:00

Damn, he IS ugly

The picture of Dorian Gray

2006-11-13T23:03:00.000+01:00

Can you picture yourself in those that came before you? Will your life lead you along the paths they walked and will your journey wind along the same predictable road? Will you remember the turning points: your firstborn, the day your wife died, the day you realised you saw your grandson for the very last time? Will he realise it? Will it matter? Will you be forgiven when you reach your final destination? Will the wrinkles in your face be of age, of pain , of anger? Will you want to realise your time is up? Will you perish like them, helpless and painfully aware that you have been forsaken? Will those that have forsaken you, leave you for leaving them? Will you be ashamed of your helplessness, but still to proud to ask for help? Will you feel that life has treated you well? Will you hope for better things to come? Will you want her to go first? Will you want to be alone or will you want them by your side? When you die, you'll wonder: "Was that it?". Will you think of how you wished you'd lived? Well you're here now, yes, you're here now...

2006-10-26T23:04:00.000+02:00

We don't need no water
Let her burn

Belzebozo just applied for planning permission. He's gonna build you an extra wing, with splendid views on the Lake of Fire. I will not forget this...

2006-10-25T22:57:00.000+02:00

Tssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Yeah right!

2006-10-20T23:58:00.000+02:00

Antarctic Ice Shelf Collapse Tied to Global Warming

Scientists on Monday reported the first direct evidence linking the 2002 collapse of an Antarctic ice shelf to global warming. The researchers found that stronger westerly winds in the northern Antarctic Peninsula, fueled primarily by human-induced climate change, were responsible for the dramatic summer warming that led to the retreat and collapse of the Larsen B ice shelf.
"This is the first time that anyone has been able to demonstrate a physical process directly linking the break-up of the Larsen Ice Shelf to human activity," said lead author Gareth Marshall from the British Antarctic Survey (BAS). The study, by BAS scientists as well as researchers at the University College London's Centre for Polar Observation and Modeling and the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in Belgium, was published in the "Journal of Climate." The 1,255-square mile ice shelf collapsed into the Weddell Sea over a 35-day period in early 2002. Scientists believe the 220-meter thick shelf had been in place for some 5,000-12,000 years.

In 2002, 720 billion tons of ice sheet has disintegrated in less than a month. Its disintegration was the third recent, sudden collapse of an Antarctic ice shelf, following the collapses of the 618-square mile Larsen A Ice Shelf in 1995 and the 425-square mile Wilkins Ice Shelf in 1998.
The collapses did not affect sea levels - ice shelves are thick plates of ice, fed by glaciers, that float on the ocean around much of Antarctica. But scientists warn that the loss of ice shelves in the region could predicate sea level rise. Ice shelves act hold back glaciers from the sea and keep warmer marine air at a distance from the glaciers. A study released in 2004 revealed that this concern has started to materialize. It found Antarctic glaciers melting and moving more quickly toward the sea in the wake of the collapse of a Larsen B ice shelf, with several of the glaciers moving at up to five times their previous speed.

In this latest study, Marshall and his colleagues report that global warming - and manmade hole in the ozone layer - has changed Antarctic weather patterns. Scientists worldwide are convinced that human emissions of heat-trapping gases released by the burning of fossil fuels are largely responsible for temperature increases over the past century. The western Antarctic Peninsula has showed the biggest increase in temperatures observed anywhere on Earth over the past half-century. Stronger westerly winds are forcing warm air eastward and over the natural barrier created by the Antarctic Peninsula's 1.25 mile-high mountain chain. During the past 40 years the average summer temperatures in this region of the north-east peninsula has been 2.2 degrees Celsius, but on days when warm winds top the mountains of the peninsula, temperatures rise by 5 to 10 degrees Celsius, the researchers said. This warming created the conditions that allowed the drainage of melt-water into crevasses on the Larsen Ice Shelf, a key process that led to its break-up in 2002.
"Climate change does not impact our planet evenly - it changes weather patterns in a complex way that takes detailed research and computer modeling techniques to unravel," Marshall said. "What we've observed at one of the planet's more remote regions is a regional amplifying mechanism that led to the dramatic climate change we see over the Antarctic Peninsula."

2006-10-17T21:48:00.000+02:00

Question mark

Why did I bother writing this? Why do you bother reading this? Why do the first three sentences of this post start with? Why is this not a rethorical question? Why? Why? Why? Delilah. Why is the penultimate letter of our alphabeth. Why you little... Aaaargh. Is there life after death? Is there life before death? Why do French call it 'le petit mort'. Does actual death really feel as if you've just jacked off? Does actual death really feel as if you jacked off a second time? Why is it called jack off and not David off. Fuck off.

2006-10-16T22:43:00.000+02:00

Shoplifters of the world
Unite and bend over

If I go to Hell... Excuse me, let me rephrase that. When I go to Hell, I'm sure the Great Lake of Fire will come in the form of a supermarket. You cannot honestly tell me you don't feel that the inside of any given Wal-Mart, Ahold, Tesco or De-fucking-laize is not the viscous vortex, the wretched wormhole to pure evil. The aisles are just narrow enough to make you touch icky strangers. The voice that announces your meat is ready at the butchers, could just as well announce that they are ready to butcher you. Hey you, be a happy consumer. Three bottles of wine, two peanuts for free. Taste our new dog food. Useless shit, now only 9.99!! Get fucked now, pay 55.99 for the rest of your life. And to top it all off: check-out. I was in the basket-isle. The purpose of this isle is to let Übermenschen like myself speed out of this Babylon before the mongoloid mongrels suck us in to their demi-monde for good. Its purpose is not to let semi-dried up eighty year olds fill tree baskets with more rubble than you could find on Ground Zero, September Eleven 2001, 14:00PM; dislocate their osteoporose shoulder dragging it to the check-out before spending the average lifespan of a parrot looking for a one euro centcoins. I was number 38 in line... All of a sudden lady number 37 realised that she forgot earplugs to plug her husbands nostrils, so she wouldn't hear him snore.
"Sorry sir, could you watch my stuff," she said. About three hours later, she came back (I was up to number 34 by now).
"Where's my Boursin, my bananas and the shoe polish I left."
"Woar wfhat?" I spat. "Waim fhorry, m'am, bwut ifts wuude to cut fe laain. Aiif neffa feen woe before."
Okay, the shoe polish will probably explain why I've been on the toilet the whole evening, but I will go trough a lot of shit if it gets my out of a supermarket.

2006-10-14T12:14:00.000+02:00

Shell shock
Go and see Western Ireland, it's your last chance

The Guilford four? The Manchester six? Everyone remotely familiar with Irish recent history knows what I'm talking about. Irish men who've been imprisoned for decades after a hoax process. You can see Daniel Day-Lewis excel in "In the name of the Father" portraying the story of these men. Sadly, Ireland found 5 volunteers to eradicate the numerical inconsistancy of the abovementioned list...The Rossport five.The Rossport Five are James Brendan Philbin, brothers Philip and Vincent McGrath, Willie Corduff and Micheál Ó Seighin. These five men from County Mayo were jailed on June 29th 2005 by Justice Finnegan, President of the High Court of the republic of Ireland, for contempt of court. They refused to obey a court injunction forbidding them to interfere with work being undertaken by Shell, who are building a high pressure gas pipeline across land in Rossport to pipe unrefined natural gas from the offshore Corrib gas Field. Three of the five men own land in Rossport: Phillip McGrath has a house in Rossport and Micheál Ó Seighin lives about five miles from Rossport in Stonefield. The government granted planning permission to Enterprise Oil (subsequently taken over by Shell) to build an onshore gas processing plant and to supply it using a high pressure pipeline which runs as close as seventy metres to the houses of some of these men. The men were released from Cloverhill Prison on 30 September 2005, after 94 days, when Shell applied to the High Court to have the injunction lifted. This came after media and political scrutiny of the case.

Strangely, when you ask for ethical investment funds in your bank, Shell will always feature as one of the stocks because they invest a lot in alternative energy. Brits putting energy in chasing Irishmen from their land can hardly be called alternative if you ask me...

2006-10-12T22:08:00.000+02:00

Sssssssssssssst, it's all so quiet

I even managed to shut up da voices in me head for a moment

2006-10-10T20:04:00.000+02:00

In Memoriam Paul Hunter

October 14 1978 - October 9 2006

Paul Hunter, the Beckham of snooker, has lost his battle against cancer. Hunter was a three times Masters champion, his last win over Ronnie O'Sullivan - winning 10-9 from 7-2 down - obtained thanks to his girlfriend (and later wife) Lindsey, who gave him a moral boost during the mid session interval. Paul was a half finalist at the World championship in Sheffield in 2003, losing out to Ken Doherty. Daughter Evie Rose was born on Boxing day last year.

2006-10-09T19:45:00.000+02:00

More deep thoughts on the political processus
Siegfried Bracke, eat your heart out!

So apparently nobody really lost the elections, and even if they did, the others lost even more or -just as convenient- the others didn't win as much as they said they would. The Nazi's only win a few thousand extra votes in Antwerp and we're celebrating like it's fucking D-day. I've never been so ashamed in my life as when I saw Hugo - look how drunk I can be on national television - Claus saying he was lost for words. Not the way I was, buddy. Please Hugo, either stick to your scribbling or host a reality show on VT4, but if you're the culmination of left wing politics in this country, I'm siding with the Arians... Anyway, nobody seems to realise that still one third of this country would favor a good book burning over the Ghent Film festival (to name but one vaguely cultural experience).

A few hundred votes is enough to turn the average Belgian Joe Schmoe into a potentate, the likes of whom has not roamed these parts since Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, the third Duke of Alva. Let me try and put things into perspective with these words from the secretary of the People who hate people party, Mr. Tommy Tiernan.

"When I was in New York I went to the Space Centre to take a virtual tour of space. It started in Knock (a shit hole in county Mayo, Ireland, the equivalent in Belgium would be Filip Dewinter's asshole, #Bietje#). Then we were in space. There it was: Earth. This blue ball, with no strings, revolving (mind the -r- ,#Bietje#) and flying through space. Even when you're fast asleep: woooooooooooooooooooooosh. You're still travelling through space at an incredible speed. The other planets in our solar system are not nearly that peachy. Covered in dust, rubble and bricks, they've no children, no rabbits... Then we took a look at the other solar systems in our galaxy. Hundreds and thousands of them. With suns that would dwarf our sun. Some of these planets have 19 moons. Nineteen moons: you wouldn't catch a wink of fucking sleep. Then, we looked at the other galaxies in our universe. AND THERE'S MILLIONS OF THEM. Vaster, more gigantic than our one. THEN, we took a look at the other universes. AND THERE'S MILLIONS OF THEM. I'm in tears by now. And then we took a look at the other universes we don't know about, but we fucking know about. AND THERE'S MILLIONS OF THEM. So I realised that, far from being the centre of the universe, far from being important, far from being relevant, nobody knows we're fucking here! ... SO LET'S WRECK THE JOINT!"

Maybe a bit of modesty from our so-called leaders wouldn't be too much to ask...

2006-10-08T19:39:00.000+02:00

People who hate people party
Election time again - Quotes by famous politicians on the results

Abraham Lincoln said: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time." He was obviously wrong. People bend over on a regular basis, take out the vaseline and let the politicians have their way with them. Look at Abe's beloved United States. The Elephant has been reigning supreme for nearly seven years now. And Belgium? Well, either we long for the time we could march through the streets with a light-brown uniform and sing Deutsche Schlagers or we like politicians who order the killing of partymembers by Tunesian hitmen... depending if you live in the north or the south of this patetic joke called a country (De Gaulle said that the English invented Belgium to annoy the French). So I voted for the only politician you can trust (a dead one): Mr. Bill Hicks, founding father and president for life of the People who hate people party.

"People who hate people - come together!!"
"NO!"
... We're kinda having trouble getting of the boards, but you know ...
"Are you gonna be there?"
"Yeah"
"Then I ain't fuckin' coming"
"But you're our strongest member!"
"FUCK YOU!"
"That's what I'm talking about, you asshole!"
"Fuck Off!!"
"Damn, we almost had a meeting going..."

So what people do we hate? Well, we don't discriminate. We hate everybody!! Jews, reds, queers, rich, poor, goodlooking, fat, small, tall, blind, mute or deaf. We even hate normal people. And we especially hate retarded morons who think for a split second that this has anything to do with VB. Why? Because men are just a virus on shoes!

2006-09-29T21:02:00.000+02:00

I, Lucifer
It's not an ad for matches...

For a moment I thought my boss had written an autobiography. He couldn't have, off course. It'd take a legion of Nobel Prize winners to translate the timberwood of childish thoughts in his head. Timberwood a score of Columbi and Magellans were set out to find eons ago in that vast void that is his brain. And off course he doesn't partake in as mundane a pass time as writing: he has minions to cover his writing activities. It is my pleasure, nay my privilege, to grovel for him - day after endless day.

I, Lucifer, Fallen Angel, Prince of Darkness, Bringer of Light, Ruler of Hell, Lord of the Flies, Father of Lies, Apostate Supreme, Tempter of Mankind, Old Serpent, Prince of This World, Seducer, Accuser, Tormentor, Blasphemer, and without doubt Best Fuck in the Seen and Unseen Universe (ask Eve, that minx) have decided - oo-la-la! - to tell all.

Apart from that last bit, it's spitting image with Your Bossiness. And I know there's something about him: I've never seen his reflection in a mirror. But no, it's not his autobiography: I, Lucifer is a glorious novel by Glen Duncan. Buy it, or better: hear me quote from it for the next twenty years...

2006-09-27T19:34:00.000+02:00

Trenchcoat it is
And thou shallt know my name is the Lord, when I lay my vengeance upon thee

I don't even know how the gun got in my hand
Five bullets five names and a contract of five hundred grand
My only apology is for what I have never done
Five bullets five names and my head swinging high in the noon day son

Welcome to the sunny place that is my soul

2006-09-20T18:36:00.000+02:00

NERINA IS COMING!!!!
Not necessarily in my dreams but in the Botanique December 8th

Geek Love

In the race to get out of this place,
I am checking my face in the back of a spoon,
You're accusing, you say I'm not here,
but I'm here, yes I'm here,I'm not on the moon,
I'm leaving so soon,

But don't presume to know shit about me,
'Cause I don't know myself from one day to the next,
And I don't pose perplexities purposely,
'Cause it isn't a game, it isn't a test.

And now hey, you, could you give it a rest?
Just take me home, c'mon and get me undressed,
Put on a fire and make it enough,
For we're geeks, but we know this is love.

Nine am to the beat of a drum,
As we drive through the canyon,
I'm feeling the hum of the engine,
My head and my heart are a-swim,
will your cat be ok?Your wife was she in?
Your wife, is she in???

'Cause I don't presume to know shit about you,
When you won't really tell me until I beg you to,
But I know that perplexity's a wonderful thing,
It's a sudden found joy, the strangeness it brings...

And now hey, you, could you give it a rest?
Just take me home, c'mon and get me undressed,
Put on a fire and make it enough,
For we're geeks, but we know this is love, this is love.
Geeks, but we know this is love.

I like that we argue,
But not everyday,
Your scent in a room,
And the way that you say 'color' not 'colour'.
What colour today?It's grey, grey, it's grey.

Oh hey, you, could you give it a rest?
Just take me home, c'mon and get me undressed,
Put on a fire and make it enough,
For we're geeks, but we know this is love, this is love.
Hey, you, could you give it a rest?
Just take me home, c'mon and get me undressed,
Put on a fire and make it enough,
For we're geeks, but we know this is love, this is love, yeah.
Geeks, but we know this is love.

I'll be your geek if you'll want me to...

2006-08-28T18:29:00.000+02:00

DNF
Did not falter...

As opposed to my big sports guru DVLMN, I did not falter during my first real test of the season. I ended Brussels Half Marathon after 2 hours; 26 minutes and 44 seconds with two bleeding nipples. I was number 1467 with 1533 athletes making it to the Grand Place... The parcours was terrible: up and down and up again, and down and up and up and down and up and down. They tried to confuse us by mixing up the kilometersigns along the road and the ravitaillements were a joke: can you honestly tell me your able to drink ISOSTAR from a papercup running at, well, about 9+1/2 kph? Anyway, my leggs nearly fell off, but it was worth every inch of it...

2006-08-21T20:03:00.000+02:00

Dear Frustrated Superstar
Must be about me, you know I have it in me

Dear Frustrated Superstar,
your mother's waiting in the car
To whisk you off to your new premiere

And all the friends who knew your name
Are waiting, wondering what became
Of the girl that they once knew but never loved
They never loved.

So every city tells the lie
Of beggars, tramps and butterflies
Of all these things, then what am I?
A princess in a threadbare gown,
A gaudy, painted circus clown?
A child who lost her key and can't get home?

All the things I never was -
A traitor in the Western Wars
A girl who did it just because.
Do or die, or don't at all
Prepare to suffer for your call
Some things have to hurt or they're not true.
They can't be true

When you die, you'll wonder, "Was that it?"
Will you think of how you'd wished you lived?
Well, you're here now
Yes you're here now.
So I only want to be up there
With a hundred others, I don't care
'Cause I'm here now
Yes I'm here now.

Papers, books, philosophy
An envelopes eternity
I count each passing minute, hour, day.....
Wonder how I smile so well,
Wonder how they never tell
There's really no one living here at all.

So here's a line from God's own song
To comfort you when things go wrong
My children never visit me.
Go searching in the sky at night
They must be there to set alight
Their mothers aching heart is so unsure
I'm so unsure....

When you die, you'll wonder, "Was that it?"
Will you think of how you'd wished you lived?
Well, you're here now
Yes you're here now.
So I only want to be up there
With a hundred others, I don't care
'Cause I'm here now
Yes I'm here now.

Dear Frustrated Superstar,
I really hope you get that far
If not, I hope you live
I hope you live.

2006-07-26T20:30:00.000+02:00

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..)

2006-07-17T18:22:00.000+02:00

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...

2006-07-11T13:40:00.000+02:00

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!

2006-07-09T12:43:00.000+02:00

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...