I took a day off yesterday… something peculiar happened. I still don’t quite know what to make of it…

These past few days I have been thinking about the machine. If what I am doing is just narcissistic pieces of self-indulgent scraps, ideas turned into a work that only speaks about itself to itself.

A rotten thought, a rotten idea, something fermenting in the basement.

I went to Museumplein to get away, I had been walking through the city most of the day and I had decided to settle down somewhere. I hadn’t noticed for how long I had walked or where I was, but I had ended up on a big field of grass. I looked around to gather myself and went into a nearby store to get some bread.

The Albert Heijn.

I walked up onto the raised roof of the Heijn covered in grass and looked across the plains below. A somewhat dead field, with a few sporadic trees here and there. I tore off a piece of bread and started to gnaw at it.

And that is when I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye, as I was observing two wound-up birds fighting over an empty plastic container. A red blinking dot. A pulsating rhythm that nobody else but me seemed to notice. In the middle of the field of grass surrounded by a few strands, a little blinking light hidden away.

I squinted, and I doubted the sight for a moment. But it still kept on blinking.

Why would a little red dot blink in the middle of a grass field, and why did nobody notice it?

I tore off another piece of bread and gnawed at it even slower and deeper than before.

I looked over at some kids who were running up and down the incline trying to find the best spot, presenting their arguments as to why the spot that they had picked was indeed the right and perfect one.

“Look at how soft the grass is here, it’s like a pillow.”

“But what about the trash?”

“Yeah, I don’t want a seagull to start eating my lunch.”

“It won’t.”

“It will so!!”

“What about here?”

“No, it’s wet, we’re going to slide down!”

“Stop it.”

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Look, it’s already flying over here.”

“Don’t feed it!!”

The children kept running around, fighting off the band of seagulls hovering over their heads.

Then something far away started to squeak. A ringing or something that was just stuck in my ear. I looked over at the light in the field. Still blinking. The ringing was getting louder, as I poked my ear to see if something got stuck.

My eyes still centered on the light. I had to make sure it wasn’t tinnitus, so I put my fingers in both ears. The sound stopped.

No, the sound wasn’t in my head. I could hear the ringing coming over from the field as I unplugged my ear.

Again I looked around, but everyone still seemed unbothered. The kids playing with the seagulls, people shuffling in and out of the museums. Everything was perfectly normal.

The ringing started to get louder, like a siren, almost unbearable. I didn’t want to make a scene; my whole face was clenching up like a pair of tweezers that pinched my eardrum.

The light and sound were pulsating in harmony, getting brighter and brighter, and more unbearable.

Slowly I stood up, and walked towards the light and sound as if I were walking towards the middle of a hurricane.

Down the incline, now standing on the grass field, the sound so screechy and the light so peering, like a lighthouse toppling over me.

I started to walk faster into the middle of the field where the light and sound were coming from, almost running, but in a way so people wouldn’t notice.

Now, standing in the middle, the plain’s amphitheater.

Slowly i looked down, but the light wasn’t there and the sound was gone as well. I scratched my head and rubbed my non-existent beard.

There was nothing…

It was as if it had never been there. I looked like a confused bird wondering why I was pecking the ground like it was filled with crumbs. Touching the grass and burrowing my whole head in it, eyes wide open, the tips of straws almost piercing my eye.

No siren, no light.

My phone began to ring. First my dad who wanted me to pick up a package close by, then a friend who wanted to meet up.

Starring at the clock on my phone while i walked away, only to look back at the field for a second before looking up the pick-up point for my dad’s package. Hopefully I could make it before going to my friend’s place, I thought, swaying back and forth at the tram station, stretching out my ears just to make sure the sound wasn’t there.

“When you film something, it stops being real, you’re making a movie. When you film yourself, your decisions stop being moral decisions and become aesthetic decisions.”

The setup of my project is coming along slowly. I already feel the cameras peering at my back. Turned off, but still looking.

The website is up and running.

I am in the midst of digitizing myself completely. Maybe there won’t be a trace of my pure and real self left in the world after the project begins.

But I can always come back. I hope.

My eyes are dry, every time I blink, it feels like I’m grinding a piece of newly cut marble.

Birds, birds, birds, birds, I want to catch some birds.

Peeing like a waterfall from a Disney movie. I have no idea where all the water is coming from, I haven’t been drinking anything today. Maybe my body tapped into an unused reservoir somewhere in my body, which must be the only explanation.

I wrote something that i am not able to publish publicly, or show to anyone else but myself.

Into the wormhole i went, into Gerrit Rietveld Accademie.

My very soul shook when I stepped into it, out of excitement and despair.

During the summer, my family held my heart pure and true.

And here i was, at the gates of the Gerrit Rietveld academie, a place that wants me to take a scalpel to my chest and rip out my still warm and beating heart out so they can inspect it, shake their little tired heads, before putting it back in without stitching me back up.

it sounds exciting, but can i take it?

The game of hyper-analyzation begins.

We alle want to prove ourselves… A suffocating energy to always be around.

Shat out of a reality and into the wormhole. Oh boy, i love space.

it is now, no more sunshine reggae.

The pressure is on cctv live, my studio has become my own skewed reality.

It is now the 29th, a total collapse of stable rutines, the academy shut down for the summer, one graduation exhibition to go… Basic year is done, finito, no more, free as the bird, flying on the wings of love. I lacked the foresight. What a crash and burn. To stand in the heat of summer, with empty hands and mind, people scattering to every corner of the european continent and beyond. A house in disarray, and moving plans that are emptying my bank account, the only thing left is the dry piece of bread at the end of the package made up of mostly crust. My last little crumb that is supposed to last me for the rest of next month. Money comes and goes, but the feeling of having them, in a savings account, secure, sometimes a little sum gets put towards a gadget or two, no more. That’s a nice feeling. Very nice. Now it’s almost mocking me with a big fat ZERO. I woke up, a day or two after my assesment, and i felt deeply and utterly confused. Confused by the newfound notion of freedom…

Lift off, the world says hello.

Sunshine, sunshine reggae, don’t hurry, don’t worry, take it easy… *

Developing the website like a maniac behind closed curtains, while the sun is peeking through. Postponed plans to do laundry, it’s clean… Enough. Sticky butter chicken in the morning, as red as a red lollipop and just as sweet. The end of the diet and so begins my descent into carbs, gluten, sugar, and cheese. Especially cheese. God I’ve missed that tang.

My collection of DVDs is slowly being built into something respectable.

RataPlan shopping is popping.

movies for 1.50 euros.

A steal.

Based on the best selling book: Deepak Chopra, how to know god. “knowing GOD, is knowing yourself.” that one was a must buy. If a person skims through a pile of DVDs and neglects to take a look at this spectacular little thing, they don’t know what they’re missing out on. True beauty. Be aware that I haven’t watched it yet. But I will, and it will be glorious. I will update you when I do. The back is in dutch and therefore incomprehensible. What is it about. Probably a guru, a larger than life person who will tell me that god is within. That I am god. If I grew a white beard, 1 centimeter everytime someone tried to show me or tell me that god is within and that I am god, it would be so long and majestic that I couldn’t do anything but believe that I am god. I wouldn’t question it. You wouldn’t hesitate either. I do believe the statement to some extent, it’s comforting. It makes you feel in control. But I am worried by the notion that everyone around me is also god. How do I trust their intent in having this knowledge and power. Who is there to regulate all of these “GODS.” Another god? Who was the first, did we all create everything together as one homogeneous blob? who knows? only god knows. Maybe we should all curb our enthusiasm with this notion that we are gods. I think it just comes down to belief in the self and to do what your heart and soul was always meant to.

Speaking about Curbing stuff.

The complete first season of Larry Davids comedy classic I now own on DVD as well.

What a thing.

Pretty good.

Actually pretty, pretty, prettyyyyy good.

Made for the 4:3 aspect ratio, perfect for CRTs. But the mainstream streaming decision fatigue has carried over, and I am at a loss if I should acknowledge the god within, or curb my enthusiasm a little? Or go full on barbarian, the last true warrior king, with 3 time Mr. universe winner Michael O’Hearn, a true looksmaxxing god. I could also walk the Dunes, while holding David Lynch’s hand. I think the mirages will go insane, maybe he’ll even trick me into believing that we found water. It looks so beautiful, the colors alone are all I need to be drawn completely into the world. So much more vibrant and alive than the new dune. But man do the dunes in that one look real. Boring, kinda pale, but very real, with that new CGI sci-fi look that is so bleak hollow, and beautiful. retro without committing to anything retro, but to just a phantom of an idea of what retro was. That Cine-D canon profile look, no colour grading, only the bleak future, reality is devoid of vibrance of course. It still looks good though. I like the look, even though it looks like everything else, it is a nice look. It’s just getting boring. I’d like to look elsewhere. I have looked enough.

Theater needs to weave its way into cinema again, once it was about creating worlds, not only about mimicking the real one. Let’s call it exaggeration. Wow, does it need a comeback. And it will. Dinner was wonderful, kind, generous people, and good food. I destroyed in ping pong, I made the younger me proud of all those hours of losing in the breaks standing at the ping pong table. It gave me the vigour to absolutely annihilate the competition. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but it felt good. And with all of this pent up energy by being a true champion of life, money sports and women. I think I need to calm myself. Maybe even curb my enthusiasm. I’ll pop it in the DVD player and go to sleep. dreaming of the god within, that smashed his way through life. I’ll never do a curb joke again…

stressing over banal goals that could be accomplished in mere minutes. I sit infront of my flashing CRT TV, starring at a tintin episode the plot of which i have completely lost sight of, thinking about lost friendships, the end of the semester and that book that has been sitting comfortably on my radiator for the last month. It is in book sauna heaven, and who am i to rip it away from such a state? The absurdities of social situations, i confront myself with the uncomfortable truth that i may be an akward guy, or maybe just the fact, that annoys the hell out of me, that my energy has been depleated and i am feeling oh so low. which one is it? I shoot up as high as the empire state, look down at it and laugh at it’s mediocrity, i fly even higher and i feel the grace of heaven, god, before insecurity comes a knockin and makes me plumit like a meteor. I leave a crator, but i don’t get closer to the issue, i can’t seem to find the core. insecurites left unconfronted, exposure therapy left in the dust, a bed ridden schmuck. How do i get up? It is saturday. I have been busy. I need to relax so i can explode once again. But an explosion is so violent, i’d much rather be a kite tied to the top of the empire state, drifting and adjusting my altitude with the wind. But personal circumstances inhibit me from regaining the energy to flow once again. Let me fucking flow… Annoyed by external factors and how much they impact my being, and state of mind. Been doing to much careless whisper these past few days, i got to sharpen up. assesments are soon, the end of the basic year is happening as i write this, i am hit by a truck of endings and new beginnings, and it’s tiring to say hello and goodbye at the same time.