Op Volle Toeren

As a kid I watched it religiously every week. I enjoyed it. You can't blame me for that, I was a kid. And now, now I'm older and wiser, I still get a kick out of it, although for completely different reasons. I love the horribleness of it. I love the cheesiness. I love the honesty. I watched this whole clip, threw away two minutes of my life in the process, and I don't regret it, even though I feel a tad guilty for it. And in making you watch the darn clip as well I feel even guiltier.

CSI

I love to watch Crime Scene Investigation. Can't get enough of it really. Those detectives are so smart, handsome and funny. I wish I could be one of them.

But I'm an Alpha... At Highschool I skipped chemistry as soon as I could. I did 4 languages, Music, History and Geography. Not even Maths. And now I have a Major in Theatre. That doesn't bring me any closer to becoming a CSI Detective.

Furthermore, I am easily scared. Never watch horror movies or else I can't sleep. Discovering corpses in real life would probably knock me out.

Most of all, I have a lot of trouble keeping my desk tidy. I would probably misplace all the evidence.

Hmm, so far for becoming a CSI Detective.

I'm working on the smart, handsome and funny though. That might help.

Look at this intro and tell me: don't YOU wanna be a CSI detective?

I just love hoovering

I think I'll let the images speack for themselves for this one.


The only thing I want to stress is that it is not about the woman's clothes. I just love to vacuum my living room to the music of Queen. It gives so much satisfaction to do a woman's job the right way, not that I want to be a woman or think vacuum cleaning is a woman's job. It is just that doing this every Wednesday evening gives me such a great feeling especially when I think that the boy from next door is watching me. Not that I'm some kind of perverted gay man. No, no, no, I really just love to suck dirt.

Freddy.

Hiding DVDs

Oh yes! When I go to a DVD store I love to take a particular DVD of which there is only one left, say "Dances with Wolves" and hide it under a stack of completely different DVDs, say "Lesbian Spanking Inferno". Hi hi. It's so easy to do and it causes such a big amount of fuss. The guys from the store know from their inventory lists that they must have "Dances with Wolves", but the only way to find it is to turn over every other stack of DVDs in the store. Someone looking for romance will never find his DVD. Someone leafing through the stack of spank-DVDs suddenly gets the shock of seeing Kevin Costner (that's the worst one).

I hope I someday own my own DVD store and I'll disorder the DVDs as much as I can. Isn't it nice to find DVDs by accident instead of on purpose?

sucker for popularity

I know I'm dead and everything and I should have faded away into obscurity like most of my contempories... but I cant help myself. I love it when people talk about me. I simply adore it. So why should I fade away if I can hang out and listen to people talk about me, me ,me! Of course you couldn't tell by looking at me, I'm by now pretty adept at keeping a stoneface whenever I am the centre of attention. But when no-one's looking I'm jumping up and down at every mention of my name. I get off on it better than any of the rumbles in the hay I had with maria, or well perhaps I shouldn't go into names at this point. But anyway I've made up my mind, dead or not as long as people talk about me I'm gong to hang around.

Uncurling

It might be because my hair is mostly straight.

It might be because I can't stand chaos.

It might be because I like to make the world just a little better.

But I can't resist a curled phone cord. It's like a fridge to a magnet: I have to touch it. Not only that, I wist it, I turn it, I give it my very best to try to unravel, uncurl, straighten that cord. I delight in studying which way it twists and turns and then to turn it the other way. I love to purposely twist it myself to be able to untwist it afterwards. I ask people to curl it up for me in particular devious ways, so I can spend an afternoon uncurling happily. I like the feel of the firm chord between my fingers when it tries to get to its natural state itself and I love the "snap" with which it gets to that state after I lend it a hand. I love to wrap my finger in one of the chords natural curls.

I won't every buy a phone without a curly chord.

So. Do you have some curls for me?

It always looked to good to be true.

Hi everybody,

when I'm thinking of famous dead peoples with guilty pleasures. I can't keep this one to myself. Yes it is a very little known fact that Holland’s most loved grandma Annie MG Schmidt had a very dark side. Everybody knows her for her nice children books but if she had the chance she went into some very shady cafe's to be part of the old lady's mob. In this picture we see Silent Schmidt (her mob name) together with Purple Pam discussing a plant to corner the champagne market.

I don't know about you but since I know this I can't help it but to look for hidden message's in her books. I think I’m on to a big one following the way to “de torteltuin” ...............

Choo choo

I was a very public figure, and a lot of my pleasures, guilty or not, are already widely known.

However.

I managed to keep one of them a secret. Not only that, I did it because I felt so darn guilty about it.

Trains.

Yes, I was a train spotter. I loved seeing them come and go and making a note of it in my train diary. I took my diary with me wherever I went and kept it complete and neat. Every train I every so I noted down with great care. The type number, of course, the model, but also the state it was in. Any bruises or dents it had. Where I saw it. I had no use for it other than writing it down.

I couldn't let this pleasure of mine get out in public of course, no one would have taken me seriously anymore. I would have been the worlds laughing stock. So I kept it a guilty secret.

At the end of my life I had the stack of train diaries take care of by a good friend. I am glad
I kept on doing it during my life, so I know for sure that I made an impression on the world by leaving it my collection of spotted trains...

Strawberries

I keep them in the top drawer of my desk in the oval office.
That's a small and secret drawer, and it leaves just enough room for them not to get crushed.
Cause when they get crushed, I have a bad day. Very bad. Those are the days I start wars.

I take the first one around 11 am. I live up to that moment, wait till everyone's gone, and then....

Aaah. The best part is when I use my tongue to explore the surface. After that, I put it in my mouth and close my eyes. I try to keep it inside without swallowing for as long as possible. My personal record is 2 hours 14 minutes. Then the minister of Defense entered bringing the news that they found Saddam. I was so happy I almost choked. And accidentally I swallowed.

Here I had one in my left cheek. It stayed there for 28 minutes. Then I had to deliver a speech. Sometimes I manage to keep it inside during the speech. Then I am not paying attention to the speech and people find me stupid. Which, of course, I am not.


Here I was trying out two at the same time. That didn't work. I didn't know on which one to focus anymore. Instead of double pleasure, I got a headache.

Making faces

Doberdan!
I have to tell something. I like making faces in photo booth. Photo boots are good. They private.
If I go to station Beograd, I always go in photo booth. I like closing curtain behind my back. It makes me feel safe. And I practice faces for new speech. No good speech without good faces.
What do you think of my face on the up right? I call it Bathroom. And under that also on right is face called 'spit'. I created it for Carla. Misses Del Ponte likes spitting.
The face under on left is for grand children mine and is called 'hush'. I make face when I sing them in bed. Mira say Hush is my sweet face. I don't like showing sweet face. The second face under left is Unexpected. It was my last face.

Slobo
Слободан Милошевић

Strong and Dark

Dark, darker, darkest
Strong, stronger, strongest
My mind is racing
My heart beat pacing
The scent is embracing
my nostrils
keep telling me I need to score
for more


Accepted or addicted
restricted or convicted
As long as it enters my system
I can keep the rhythm
of every new day

Hot, hotter, hottest
black, blacker, blackest
No need for dilutions
Or sugar infusions
I don't want intrusions
when sipping black fluids
it shivers through my spine
It's the best guilty pleasure of mine

Stitch me up!

People were never expecting it, and in fact were shocked when they caught me in action. Due to the miniature nature of the activity I always had to wear my reading glasses and that by itself induced huge distress. But I have to admit, it is much better than sleeping with the mob or singing to the president. The satisfaction a perfectly performed double intercalating cross stitch or single threaded couch can give is immense and has, at least in my opinion, been grossly underestimated.

People have never realized that the reason I was often late on the set was not my proclaimed alcohol and drug problem, oh god, no. Yes, I was addicted, but not on the chemicals. No I was addicted on my embroidery work. If I was only a hundred fern stitches apart from the final result, I simply had to finish them before I could leave my trailer. And you know what is so funny, for only $19.99 I can embroider myself nowadays.

Yours MM

Rod's Party

Hey guys, great that you want to come to my party! It'll be a 45 minutes one, so don't stop partying after 38 minutes already, okay?

I'd like to kick the party off with sung monologues of at most 1 minute. That way we'll really get into the party-spirit and won't give too much information, which could ruin the party.

The birthday boy will get to smack a balloon in front of a person of his choosing.

Don't fall into the trap of asking a question, just state it! No one likes questions on parties, we should just have fun!

The birthday boy gets to blow out all the candles.

We'll all wear name tags, but, just in case some confusion arises about what name you have, just quickly clean it up and do not make a big deal about it. "Hey Bob!" "My name is Rob, but wat on earth does that painting do there?"

The birthday boy always wins all games.

If you give a gift, name it as soon as possible. Don't postpone by admiring it, name it!

The birthday boy gets first pick of where to sit at diner.

Group song is a definite possibility at this party. If you feel a group song coming up, go for it! That way the party will be more fun!

The birthday boy should get most of everything.

If later in the party a monologue occurs, say the 6th, the 7th and the 8th, try reintegrating information about what we know of the party in the monologue. Stress your relationship with other characters. That way the party will be more fun!

The birthday boy should be loved by everyone.

Summing up stuff that happened during the party is great. Some parties get complicated, sum it up so everyone knows what's it about again.

The birthday boy should be admired by everyone.

On television, split screen is a possibility. And anyway, everyone loves watching telly at a party!

The birthday boy decides which movie to watch.

Have a great party!

Oh, and before you come to the next party, write down the Guilty Pleasure of a famous dead person. Don't forget the picture!

Funny people

Absolutely right Coolman!
This was last July in Barcelona. This family looked worse every morning. Children crying, parents giving each other the silent treatment. Wonderful. :-)
It became a reason to have breakfast in this place every morning!

Fun! But....

Monologues are fun. But include the why, and they will be even better. I bite my nails. WHY??
Also, take a breath when doing your monologue. Think of what you have said before.
And: monologues should be short (1 minute).

Dragging is fun. But don't drag someone in the scene by holding his/her hand. Eye contact should be enough. Trust that.

References are fun. But keep them local. Diemen Tigers instead of Lakers.

La Ronde is fun. But not with 8 players in a row. So we play La Ronde with 5 players, and then numbers 6, 7 and 8 have a scene with one of the first 5. At some point they will do a monologue as well. These monologues should not bring new info. Add to what's already there.

The camera is fun. But be aware of too many focusses. With one person on the chair, and one close to the camera, don't add an extra focus in the back. And vice versa.
Also, don't take the camera of its tripod. You have 3 options if you want to film the characters onstage:
1) zoom in for a close up
2) characters will move to the camera
3) hands/fingers before the camera will portray characters

Homework is fun. Add pictures to your previous posts on the blog.

Enjoying the bad times of someone else

This evening I was traveling by train when a couple took the seats opposite me. I was pretending to read but, of course, I was actually listening in on their conversation. And it was terrific.

"Alfred was really glad that we are going to celebrate christmas with them this year on the 25th." "Oh, and of course you didn't tell me!" "..."

"My mother thought that you could have been somewhat nicer to her."

I was enjoying myself so much that I thought that they might have been planted there by the NS to give me a good feeling about myself.

Indulgence

When time has come for digestive celebration
My mouth will water during preparation
Picking the products, yes, I must focus
Cutting the mushrooms, ‘tis no hocus pocus

Pasta, tomato, they take it in turns
White sauce poored over… oh, my stomach yearns
Oh, grated the cheese that I sprinkle above
This dish of mine is layered with love

Then in the oven, the virtue of patience
Thirty-five minutes of cruel temptations
My nostrils are filled with a heavy aroma
The beauty of which nearly gets me in a coma

At last it is ready, this cathedral of food!
Cursed are thee, who now dares to intrude
A serving for Me, and one for Myself
Then I take the remainder, a spoonful or twelve

The feast has now ended, the meal devoured
Leaves me on the couch, by fatigue overpowered
You may call it a pleasure, or call it a flaw
But eating lasagne is not against the law

My pleasure

I measure
the level of pleasure
in situations
when I feel stupid and fat

I count
the amount
and proudly look around
in the circle of friends that I never had

In my head I repeat
on a slow and loud beat
all of those true things
that I've never said

At night I wonder
I toss and I ponder
and listen to the purringof my cat who is dead

The session that shouldn't have been.

First Rod tells us in the rehearsal he is so happy we screwed up and then I screw up some more by leaving my notes in Arnhem. Is this one of these moments the universe is trying to tell you something? Is this an evening that should not ever be mentioned again. Well I’ll take my chances and write al little about it. If I‘m struck by lightening while writing this we’ll all know enough, if not LEARN!

We played a la ronde guilty pleasure style and got kind of stuck in our story’s these are some of the notes which might help us getting unstuck:
* Do time dashes later in the show (things like 5 years earlier)
* Mention in your opening monologue how the guilty pleasure affects your life and try to avoid plot, questions and relations.
* look for details/ shiny objects and don’t be creative (creative/original stuff will come from good listening and group work)
*Be serious and comedy will come.
* If there is stuff unclear to you after the la ronde help yourself and the audience by clarifying it.
* We’re looking for truth (if you feel it is true for the character It can affect people.)

Wow I survived, no big cracks have opened in the earth to swallow me so we just might be on the right track.
GO GO GO Guilty pleasures.

PS did you know I like tot watch the extra bits on dvd’s?

Guilty wall tile poetry

Soon in a souvenir shop near you:

"A guilty pleasure a day keeps the doctor away"

"Pleasure is not for the weak of heart
If you achieve it you must be really smart"

"If you make sure you don't feel guilty, you're life can't be really filthy"

"How much you enjoy your guilty pleasure is a good lifestyle measure"

La

I here must admit to a terrible pain
I tried to deny it, but that was in vain
The lure of her tunes always gets me to listen
My feet they start tapping, my eyes start to glisten
And yes, I agree with your most dreadful fears:
I just love the music of "La" Britney Spears.

And worse: these desires don't make me feel filthy
My conscience is clean, my pleasure not guilty

Can I be saved? Do I want to be saved?

Guilty of Poetry - Poetry is Guilty

Dark nights in winter - Nights dark, so dark
Loving people - People loving
I don't care - Care do I not

Depression

One solution - Solution #1
Shop till you drop - Drop when you shop

Drop by at IKEA

Dear mother,

Dear Mother,

all is well here and I don't think I'll have to prolong my stay much longer. The nice policeman told me that all charges are dropped and that I am free to leave the country. That only left me with the task to prove that I am a really good improviser. So far I haven't really convinced them, but I think I nailed it this time.

In my session yesterday I told them that the secret of good improv is a cat. A cat loves everything she's doing at a particular moment. It doesn't care whether a Harold fails or not, it just is glad it was a Harold.

A cat can really be engrossed in details. Like, when it yawns, it can really yawn. It's whole body yawns, from spine to paws and it can be so good at yawning that a whole group of people can get distracted. Detailed yawning, that's where it's at.

A cat always reacts to the moment. When she sees a fly she goes after it without plotting, planning or worrying. The fly is an offer that she gladly accepts and she just reacts to the fly, not to anything that happened before.

A cat never asks "How did it go"? Though it is a very nice opening for a scene, a cat knows that the chances are hight that it falls in the question trap and leaves the imagining to someone else.

Then they asked me to improvise something on the spot. I told them that that might lead to Crazy Town, but they didn't care.

They started laughing when I told them I liked ordering sex-toys for the neighbours. They gasped when I told them what I had in store for Woody Allen. They cringed when I just called "scene". "Never do that again!", they shouted at me, "use a sweep edit or any old edit, but not that one!"

I got the impression that they started to fall for the lie that I am an improviser, mom, so I continued.

I pretended to be a smart lawyer. Also I boldly stated that I could see with my nose. "Oh yeah?", they sneered, "What's happening outside this building, can you smell that you wise nose?" I told them what was going on in front of the entrance and they were mesmerized.

And finally I told these police men that I knew them all very, very well.

That got to them, I think, mom.

That really got to them.

As soon as I am sure they really believe me my master plan is complete, mom.

And then... I can take over the world!


Muhahahahahaaaa

Your loving son.



PS. If you want to have something on your hands until I return, I suggest three things:

Write an intro that can be used for our show. Mail it to Rod and bring it to class on paper.

Write a poem in Guilty Pleasure style and post it on the blog. Rhyming not obligatory.

Write a character profile if you haven't done so already.

Love.

Introducing.... Wellness

Hi, I'm Wellness, and I like to be taken mysteriously.

Stan Borovski, night watchman

Kon Ni Chi Wa! That's what they say in Japan when they want to say 'hello'. I work as a night watchman for a big Suzuki-centre in Canada. They sell Japanese scooters, cars and other vehicles here. Stan is short for Stanislav, which is not a Japanese name at all.

At home, I watch martial arts movies most of the time. If my mum lets me, that is. My mum has a lot of pain in her joints, and now I have a job. I spend five nights a week in a small but comfortable office at the Suzuki-centre watching the screens (until my left eye begins to water again).

I was told that the camera's watching the Suzuki-centre have 'night-vision'. That reminded me of a scene from 'Silence Of The Lambs' (which is not a martial arts movie, but still pretty cool), so I said "Hey, I can do this". And in the office I would have my own chair, and my very own mug. Not true! It turns out that the guy doing the day-shift just sits in the same chair. And in movies, scenes with 'night-vision' are usually quite spectacular, but on the screens in my office nothing really happens. Although they change the camera-angle every five minutes. And my mug has the Suzuki-logo on it and is a bit chipped.

I decorated the decorated the wall behind the chair in my office with a very cool Bruce Lee poster. A week later someone had drawn a moustache over his face, but Howard says he hadn’t done it.

I want to go to Japan once. But my mum says that the food will be bad for my stomach. I did throw up once, when they had this special Mexican-flavoured burgers at McDonalds.

Fourth Session: Endow yourself with dr. Rod

Call me weak, call me naive, call me everything you want but I am seeing dr. Rod and you can't make me stop! I see dr. Rod on a weekly basis and he inspires me. And something is telling me I am not the only one who is seeing dr. Rod. Rumor has is it that at least seven other people are under dr. Rod's control. You think that is shocking? I am telling you in a few months time, dr. Rod is inspiring a 200 people's audience. That's how things go with people like dr. Rod. You want to know how dr. Rod is doing this? Well, take last's week session with dr. Rod. The theme of the session was ENDOWMENT. I never knew all the things endowment can do to you.

For instance, during my video confession session, when I am telling a story about my character, I can endow my character with special traits, with hobbies, basically with everything that is important to get to know this character. A NAME is only just the beginning.
After this self-orientated phase of the session, I was exposed to a second person and we played a scene. dr. Rod told us not to be nervous but TO TAKE OUR TIME and to FOCUS ON EACH OTHER, not on a third person not present in the scene. Also there the endowment theme came in handy as it made me say specific things about the other person, sometimes even about the smallest DETAILS of that person or its environment.

It was then I realized, I was not the only person under the influence of dr. Rod anymore and I saw with my own eyes what he can do to people. There was a guy that started to SING SONGS out of the blue. And not to mention this girl who loved to PLAY WITH THE VIDEO CAMERA and undressed herself in front of it. Luckily, when things really got out of hand we were saved from further embarrassment by the COMMERCIAL break.

What a session it was! I can't hardly wait to experience the next one. However, I first need to do some HOMEWORK. Got to create a profile of a fictional character in the blog. And...don't forget to endow it.

A savourer avec sa croûte

Imagine an enormous pile of unwashed socks. Worn by a person with the worst smelling feet ever. Or imagine this person taking off his/her shoes after a good hike in the mountains on a hot summer's day. Well, that is the smell when you open my fridge. Not every day, but on the days it harbors my "Chaumes".
My Chaumes looks like a thick and creamy postcard. Covered in a light yellow crust with a hinge of soft and hairy mold. Not too much, not too less, just enough to enhance its perfect flavour. My favorite moment is when I unwrap the paper from a fresh piece of Chaumes and cut it. The sensation of the smell is overwhelming, water is filling my mouth and I don't even consider a slice of bread. I eat my Chaumes 'unplugged'.....realizing only moments later that it wasn't just one little piece of Chaumes, but the entire creamy postcard.

Sue

ps: Somehow I expect Jean Paul Chaumes (see picture) to have Chaumes-smelling-feet.

A man with a mission...

Ta ta ta ta! Ta ta ta ta!

Sometimes when I get on my bike in the morning to go to my work, this tune pops up in my mind. A such a moment, my eyes become narrow, yet a faint smile plays around my lips. I quickly look into the street for any suspicious movements, first to the left, then to the right. I look up. Anyone ducking away from the window? No. I check my belongings. (my wallet? it is still there. my keys? in the pocket. my suitcase? right there, at the back of my bicycle, still filled to the brim with tests, notes and other not-very-interesting documents). I do this without looking though, just a touch will do, my eyes again fixed at the far end of the street. At that moment I think of my friends/colleagues, who - in other parts of the city - are about to be doing the exact same thing as I am. I trust these colleagues - Nicoline, Dirk-Jan, Jaap, Goof - we've coped with a lot of explosive situations together. Caught a lot of culprits. Yes, we've had quite a few narrow escapes, but in the end, victory was ours always. And today - no doubt - there will be another mission waiting for us. It is time. Determined, I start to cycle towards the Cartesius Lyceum. Slowly at first, but when I turn right on the Admiraal the Ruyter I quickly gain speed. And there's that same tune again. Ta ta ta ta! Ta ta ta taaa!

Third Session: R O D ' S R U L E S R U L E !

Where would we be without Rules? Our society… no, our civilisation… no, LIFE is based on Rules. From the moment our universe came into being, Rules have controlled all events and entities that ever existed. Therefore, Rules rule!

Some people are very good at Rule-making. Those people have a broader vision, a clearer mind, a sharper tongue than others. Rod Ben-Zeev is one of those people. He is able to draw a line on the floor - stop, go no further! If you are uncertain which way to follow, he will point with his finger. So fast that you will ask yourself ‘Where did the fingers go’. He is one of those bold men that order the men, who order the men, who order the men, who order the men, who order a poor immigrant cleaning the interior of aeroplanes. I worship him. I worship the hair on his chin! (And I admire his cleanliness as well…)

Other people are a lot better at Rule-following. I am one of those people. And you are too. Here are some of Rod’s Rules. Tattoo them on your arm (or more intimate parts of your body).

General Rules:
- don’t ask questions, but make statements!(exception: rhetorical questions, like the first sentence of this message)
- go into details! (e.g. talk about particular experiences)
- listen to one another! (and don’t babble)
- don’t worry about plot too much!
- (when you are on stage) just keep the scene going, don’t look for a moment to edit!
- (at the backline) be alert, with your mind on the scene!
- create all objects yourself (also lighters, clothing, etc.)!

Rules about characters:
- make your characters clear and consistent
- people at the backline, be aware about characters brought up in other people’s monologues
- don’t give your character a very difficult accent (unless your name is Tom)

Rules about the introduction of the show:
- just call our show ‘show’ (and not ‘long-form’ or anything like that)
- don’t go into details about the length of the show

Rules about the confessions:
- duration of confessions: approximately 90 seconds
- give yourself a name(if you forget to do so during your confession,there will be other opportunities,in fact, it’s never too late)

Rules mainly about the first part of the show:
- make it clear where you are
- make it clear why you are there
- it is tempting to stage your first scene in the location that was mentioned in the confession, but try to avoid that
- choosing different locations in the same area (e.g. a street or a village) might be handy for plot-making in the remaining part of the show (but also keep in mind the fourth ‘General Rule’)
- avoid too much negativity

Take care,

Mingus

Breaking the disgust-bubble

Oh, allright. I'll be the first to break the disgust-bubble. I am sure I am not the only one, but even among guilty pleasure sharing people this taboo exists. So here goes.

I like my own farts.

There I've said it.

Even the terrible ones. In fact, I like the terrible ones even more than the regular ones. I almost feel a bit proud when a particular disgusting one, with the undertones of an odour I am not used to, really persists in the room.

I like the smell, especially in bed, under the covers. Take a quick sniff and put them down again. Then I wait a bit. Then I take a quick sniff again.

I like their sound. Sometimes they're almost melodic little tunes. And sometimes they're just an extremely prolonged saxophone rumble. I like how their pitch tens to go up just at little at the the end of the rumble.

And don't get me started on bathtubs.

I K E A

I have never been ashamed of my Ikea-fetish. Even though people made fun of me, I always stayed proud of my continuing desire to go to Ikea, especially when I'm feeling down. Also the fact that all of the rooms of my house have gradually turned into Ikea showrooms, does not frighten me.

But things have changed.

Last Sunday I was in Budapest. Alone, because my boyfriend was rehearsing for a show.
I was in the subway making my way to the Danube river. Then it happened. I saw people with large blue Ikea bags. I suddenly realised there must be an Ikea in Budapest as well.

And, believe it or not, the thought crossed my mind that I could actually go and visit it.

I did not, of course. But the fact that I thought about it for the split second, frightens me. I think I need a self help group. Meanwhile, I will sit on our latest Ikea purchase:

Misinterpreting people

It's silly of me, I know. I sometimes like to misinterpret something someone says. On purpose. I almost always feel guilty immediately afterwards, however I don't seem to be able to catch myself doing it in time to stop myself. It's especially embarrassing when it concerns someone who doesn't spot me doing it, like my grandmother. She might say something like: "I met this gay person, but he was perfectly fine." I might say: "Unlike all the other gay persons you have met in your life?" She goes: " No no, he was perfectly fine. Nice guy as well." I go "ouch" inside. Hope I'll be able to face you guys tonight now I know you know this.

Windowshopping

Dear neighbour,

Sometimes I pass your house and look at your windows. Or rather, study your window. Curtains are significant. Not just the type, color and age of your curtains, but also if they are opened or closed at that particular time of the day. And if I am lucky there are stains on them. Grease, moisture or even a small drop of blood. Curtains are a good first impression. Then there are the objects in your windowsill. Pictures, flowers, small statues, a pile of documents, a cat. They reveal a lot about your life. Occupation, social standards, loves, desires. We are well acquainted by then. After that, all I need is just a glimpse of the interior, a hand, a bookshelf, an empty plate, and then I know. I know you, neighbour. I know you well. Hello...

C.

Second session: Tissues for Issues

Life can show us it's sunny smile and take away the most wonderful things we have at the same moment. (see picture from my last summers holiday) So after summer, many people attend self help groups.
Self help groups are there for people to help them realize that their not the only one in the world with a particular problem. And for those who have a problem so specific that it is impossible to fill a whole group with people with the same problem, there's Wednesday evenings now. Our self help group Tissues for Issues.
We all have different issues, but what we have in common is that we all long for something, we want something out of life.

Like Vera. Who strolls the parks, around the lake and back on high heels, looking for love. Welcome Vera!
And Coolman. Who wants to play the guitar but mostly talks about his friends who outsmarts everybody.
He sat next to John F. Goldman who wants to be a man with a beard and make love with a woman in front of his small mirror. But only tomorrow.
And then came Peter. He is so old he used to sail the world with Columbus but even more than discovering new lands, he wants to give.
And Maria. She wants to give love too to her son, but she doesn't show it. Instead of that she kicks him with the cask of her broken leg. She loves him so much.
And Oppenheimer who is constantly looking for recognition in the scientific world. All those magazines would do so much better if they would publish his theories about water as a multi purpose tool.
Welcome everybody. Welcome at Tissues for Issues.

Now that you are all members, it's time to introduce the rules of Tissues for Issues.

1: Never forget who you are, you all have a name. Use it!
2: Don't ask questions but make statements.
3: Be specific. A paragraph in our self help book about 'fears for Surinamese midgets who are called Stanley and live with their mothers' is more interesting than just 'a paragraph from our self help book'.
4: Place your objects towards the audience at any time. They can look trough your blackboard.
5: The truth lies in the details. So come up with details whenever you talk!
6: When we're in the confession boot we're amongst us, we can be honest, naked and vulnerable. But don't forget to hide your GP's when you're in the outside world. They won't understand. Wear your GP's under your skin, their our second layer. The people we meet when we walk out of the boot will provide us with a where and a who. The only thing we have to to is to act normal.

That's it for this week. And don't forget to support one and other by sharing new confessions and respond at others. Our power lies in our mutual recognition!

Dancing with the stars

Saturday night. A couch, a lot of tea, a lot of cookies. And....

Dancing with the stars!!

With Ron Brandsteder who I actually find funny and sympathetic.
With Stars I do not really know but who are a star anyway.
With beau-ti-ful gowns, make up, lights, fake smiles and a strict jury.

I just love it!

grijp haar groente, neem haar fruit

I once heard a song on the radio in the car. I actually pulled over to listen and strained my ears at the end, praying for the dj to mention the singers name. He did and in no time I was at the ill-named freerecord shop, gleefully paying for an entire album just to own that one song. I told everyone who wanted to hear that I had discovered a new singer, or at least a great song, but scorn was my due. Corny was the word most heard. Pathetic a good number two. And yet to this day the song strikes a chord with me. So when safe from other people's ears, I will stand in the living room and roar along, or whisper along as the emotion takes me. And afterwards I am embarrassed that tears flowed, but in the moment itself, it was exactly what I wanted...

Salvation

This town is't big enough for so many musical styles.

You can run but you can't hide. 'Cos sooner or later, boys, a man has got to face THE MUSIC.

And the music is not rock. It is not that terrible noise they call 'house'.

And it is certainly not the R&B all them young people listen to.

The music that will stir your soul, rock your bones and fill the hearts of the righteous with the love of Jesus is of course... BLUEGRASS.

Decent people (with a decent hair-do, for that matter), playing a decent piece of music to some decent words.

And YES, that music brings me to tears. YES, I find truth and comfort in there. YES, it makes me feel at home. YES, it made me realise that I was 'drifting too far from the shore'. But now I have returned to the House of Jesus, now I have been SAVED.

Blessed be the banjo! Hail to the fiddle! Hark the mandolin!

And I hereby declare that I will kill every theatersportsperson that - upon the suggestion 'bluegrass' or 'country' - cries out 'Yee Ha' and starts a pitifull imitation of riding horseback.

Playstation is for kids

Our Jasper is eleven and obviously plays with a playstation. There is a soccergame we play together, cause its more fun with two people. But I can’t stand losing and so sometimes when I am at home alone or everyone else is in bed, I’ll switch it on and practice. If someone comes in, I immediately switch it off and pretend I was doing something else.

R.H.

Help me...

I need help.

Not that I am helpless.
No, I am an intelligent, capable, healthy adult young man.
I am self-supportive, I'm a fast learner, I'm independent.

And I hate that.

Because 'being helped' is one of the most precious experiences I know. I love someone 'taking care of me'. Even if it is just with the small things in daily life. Someone teaching me how the coffee-machine works for instance. Or someone advising me to take my raincoat with me leaving home on a cloudy morning. Or people ringing me up to assist me posting something on a blog. Of course, I can do all these things by my self very easily. But when I am 'looked after', I feel safe, warm and so intimaly connected with that certain person - the helper. A bit like a child feeling protected by his parents.

So very often, I just pretend to be ignorant. Or unaware. But it is actually THEM that are unaware. Of the fact that I just pretend to be helpless...

But still, help me, folks. Help me.

The Real Cookie Monster…

.....lives in Hilversum, NL

Forget the fake blue Muppet

This is for real: whenever I have to write a longer piece on my PC, which might include something “creative”, I tend to:

1: drink way too much coffee

2: eat too much biscuits.

I start with three. Because one is nothing, two is a start and three gives me some of the 'creative fuel' I say I need (I justify my cookie consumption by telling people that it is indeed necessary for the ‘creative process’……)

Favorites include: San Francisco (natural, meergranen and whole wheat), Maria biscuits, Knappertjes, Theebiscuits.

Used to eat Digestive as well, but I quitted once I heard how many calories per cookie they had.

Recently: Verkade made a big mistake: they’ve put the calories per cookie on the front of the package!!!

Knappertjes: 25 Kcal per cookie

San Francisco Naturel: 36 Kcal per cookie

So much for future variety….

Two for one

Yes, I am guilty.
Guilty of loving The Carpenters.
In the 90's I regularly listened to the radio program 'muziekmozaiek' of Willem Duys (consider it another guilty pleasure). It was broadcasted every Sunday morning between 10 and 11. I simply couldn't resist the way Willem used to introduce each new song. With his warm, deep voice he would always recount some personal details of the performer. It was during one of those Sunday mornings Willem exposed me to "Top of the World" and "Close to You". I was sold. Especially after learning from Willem that Karen Carpenter had lived a tragic, anorectic life that eventually led to her even more tragic death....

Watching pictures

When I am walking in a city, or better still in a village, and I come by the window of a photographer with pictures of local people on display I can't resist stopping and looking at them. I especially like wedding pictures of ugly people.

Also I really like watching pictures in newspapers and such of people getting handed a prize, like a bicycle or a giant cheque. Always gives me a giggle. Click the picture to giggle with me.

My dirty dozen

1 time london 11 times Utrecht and still craving for more.
It just makes me happy.

First session - code name 053B

Dear O.

Arrived in Amsterdam for assignment. Weird city. Weird people. Excellent target.
The group works in English. They start speaking English the minute they enter the theatre (some don't). They are NOT very disciplined. We will teach them. In time.

Indians! Deep questions from Great Buffalo. Can't hear the whole story as the airco keeps being switched on and off. Afraid of being caught when some girl suggests the ceiling is coming down.
Escaped by means of a 'coffeeman'. Note to get rid of him soon.

Not too much plot. Just listening. Repeating words from the other player. Nothing suspicious so far.
Girls play men! Should be forbidden immediately! Why are there girls in the group anyway? The director tells them to TRY not to play cross-gender. He's a softy. Note to get rid of him too.

Teamvertegenwoordiger -whatever that may be- is Tom. We should keep an eye on him. He knows things. He talks to the board.
Robert's not here. He will be next week. But then Susanne's not here. Hmm. There's something going on.

Montage. Give the scenes time. Let them breathe. Players don't end them themselves. They do establish relationships. Hmm.
Homework. 'Bring a character with you'. Dead or alive? I can't tell. I still hide in the ceiling.

More homework. All members write a guilty pleasure in the blog. Aha! There we are. A blog. Note to get rid of that.
One blogpost per week. Minimum. True or fiction. Not necessarily (or necessarily not) taboos. What would they write about us?

More next week. Insha'Allah.

Pony Stickers

Dear G. Pleasures,

I am 28 years old and have an huge weakness for pony stickers, specially when there are glitters on the stickers. Do you think it might seem unprofessionally when I put them on my work equipment like laptop, agenda and blackberry?

Moonlight

I Love Roxette

Hi. I'm Rod and I love Roxette. Roxette is a guilty pleasure of mine. I love their songs especially when I am driving. They have the simplest lyrics and a super catchy Swedish tune. This song is called "listen to your heart" and I'm pretty sure it's about listening to your heart when you have to make decisions because your heart knows best.