Hail to demo-crazy
Yesterday it was the third Tuesday of September. Nothing strange there. There was a man that went to work with a briefcase that had 'Third Tuesday of September' written all over it. By now you must seriously be considering that if this man goes to work with a briefcase every day, he sure must have a lot of briefcases. He doesn't. He has more briefcases than a normal citizen, but that is just because this particular man is fabulously well-to-do. He only has one with a date written on it, which is the third Tuesday of September. In contrast to most 'very important looking' people with briefcases, which usually only contain an apple and a newspaper to help them do their 'important looking' jobs, this man carried a lot of important paperwork in his.

What the situation comes down to is that this man is delivering the financial plans of the government for the upcoming school *cough* political year to our lovely queen who has to read it out loud from a nice throne. She has a worried face: wages will be frozen, unemployment will be soaring, money will be cut etc.

Which brings me to your attention again my aversion to democracy. That is, for me, to speak against it from a non-religional and non-anti-americanial yet even so a cynical point of view. lol

The problem with most human societies is that humans inhabit it. Not only that, but they also make the rules there. The rules of a society determine how it grows up just like parenting does for a child. If you leave out parenting, or leave it up to a bear, a panter etc., you get a Mowgli. Some would argue that history is our parent, since it shows us what we did wrong and what we did right. But it is a really slacky parent. Mama and Papa history did not stop World War II from happening after number I. The only thing historians could do was say 'I told you so! Why did you think we started counting with I at World War I in 1914??', only to be ignored and laughed at by the rest of the world for having silly hair. (No offence Nitz )

Few people know what they want for themselves, and if they do know it clearly, then that does not mean that it is also a good thing that they want. More people know what they want for other people (which is generally less than for themselves) which means also generally that it's not a good thing they want. Socialist people and vegetarians and such think to find the solution in wanting for other people what they do not want for themselves.

So now we can choose between Liberalists who give free passage for those who want things for themselves and Socialists who want to force people to care for one another. Both solutions bump at the same problem, which is that people do not want to care for another; in small yes, but not in large.

It is therefore simple to state that there are no solutions to some of those famous problems. Traffic jams would not exist if everybody drove calmly, poverty would not exist if everyone shared and so on. But the fact is, people don't wanna! I therefore plead for a humanless soiciety, or humanity without a society.

Newticons
On request of my beloved... new emoticons! :


Lo-Li-Ta
I recently saw the old black-white Lolita movie by the now very late Stanley Kubrick. I had already long time since read the Nabokov novel and the 1997 Adrian Lyne movie version starring Dominique Swain . The sad thing is that the latter movie turns out to be more of a remake of the old movie than a reinterpretation of the novel. So most of the scenes were similar. Even though more people will see the old movie as a comedy than a drama, I still liked the latter movie best. There is Dom, and of course Jeremy Irons as the best Humbert Humbert ever. At any rate, and I have that problem with many older movies. It feels like they don't want to create any subtle atmosphere and are just concentrated on conveying a story. In the old version Quilty is everywhere and so obviously real while in the novel and latter movie Quilty could be nonexistant and just a symbol in Humberts wicked world. Well, the old movie screenplay was written by Nabokov himself so it should have been the better one, or at least the more just one... but what do writers know about making movies anyway?? lol

Star-Trekkin' across the universe..

PS They caught the killer of Anna Lindh at a football match. What happened to fleeing to Rio De J. ??

Due to some violent content, all mark-up has disappeared.
[written 1.5 weeks before posting]

Ode to my harem
Quite clearly and moreover regretably obvious is the cantankerous (irritating) (yes Char, it is a word lol) fact that there is not enough Pudge to pass around the social table. In fact there has not been any Pudge on the table for weeks, nay months. There is a bit of Pudge left though, forgotten in the back of the fridge, waiting for mold to give him a warm yet green and oozy blanket. This is not the fault of my admirers who have been trying to crowbar the thing open, for what all my internet doves have in common is their obsession with food and the need to be nourished; via one cavity or the other. At any rate, it is of course Pudge himself that is to blame. I will not accuse any of you of bogarting (to use/consume without sharing) me.

Why did he lock the door? Let's analyse the issue a bit less further and just state something hopefully acceptable. Not first of all, but I will name it firstly is the health issue. As noted in the guestbook commentary, I've had a share of the old throat infection. I am not easily impressed by my own illnesses but this time I even saught medical advice. For the first time in say 10-12 years I have gone to a doctor. He was quite kind; it was not required for either me or him to undress. He made me do a few monkey tricks, put a fork in me, made me say aaahh in various keys and then after questioning me cap-a-pie (from head to toe) said... ah yes... well I could smell it from a 5m distance; you got some streptococcal bacteria roaming around the throat. Anyway, I'll shorten this. He gave me antibiotics. After a week, the antibiotics was gone and so was the illness.

A day later it was back and worse than ever. So I received another antibiotics treatment. This one turned out to be a tad too strong and gave me all sorts of side-effects which were also situated in my throat and no less painfull. So on I went to the 3rd doctor, who looked exactly, dare I say exactly, like my dad. Turns out because of the strong treatment I had fungi growing in my mouth... which later turned out to be big blisters and yada yada yada. Three weeks and thus half a holiday later I was somewhat cured and ready to be in Brugge with my dearest Nitz.

Secondly and the rest
Holidays.. 2 weeks of Hungary, 5 days of Brugge, pictures are in but not all digitized and certainly not availably for you to view. Sorry.

[written on day of posting]
....[and having read all guestbook posts]
Okay... lol... I am glad to see that information about me is still being passed around. It is nice to read the gossip about myself, not behind my back but completely in front of my back.. or in back of my front; as I am returning back to the front by writing this small update.

Noting as my better looking half, which is not my back or my front but of course Nitz, is obsessed with me writing here telling everybody about my life, I have decided that my sentences are getting way too long. What I mean is that I am giving Nitz a column on my page. This way you do not only get what I need to tell you which is usually the salted, peppered and scented truth, but also the wicked dark and wretched truth as seen by Nitzan.

Observed readers will notice that this is just a way for me to write less here and (trying to) get away with it.

Busses
Now that I am having a full-time job doing research on some circulation at 17-50km I find myself more and more in the world of busses. From my experiences in Eindhoven I already knew that bus drivers are pure evil but fortunately very skilled at their job. It happens quite often that I see the driver plotting his course through some trees or buildings. At the last moment however you see these obsticles move sideways just in time. One time in such a predicament, also called a corner, the wheels on one side of the bus lost contact with the heavenly earth. I tell you, the driver was throwing himself on the steering wheel like a regular Sandra Bullock.

What makes bussing in Utrecht more enjoyable is that although the drivers are still pure evil; they enjoy it and show that to the world. This makes them very friendly when you get into the bus... sort of like a nurse bestowing a friendly smile cooing: 'This will only hurt a little.', right before she is giving a death row convict his lethal injection. Yesterday, the driver was simulating ABS brake control by quickly changing from accelerating to braking and back and back and back. This made the people in the crowded bus who were standing up fall forwards from falling backwards.

Anyway.. do I have recommendations.. nope. Go read a movie, see a book, eat some music and listen to some pea soup. But don't forget to tell me all about it.

Pudge signing off.

You don't have to be rich to be my girl.

When a spear hits my eye like a big bread of rye, it's a lorry
Tingelingeling tingelingeling.. and it's time to update the ghastly journal again. The pressure of you all in making me write here feels as nice as deadlines wooshing by and sparkly summer meteor showers on my head. But do I collapse onto Thy earth? Oh no, I am much stronger than that... I give in lol.

It would be quite a task to write down all my latest new movie experiences but let me give it a go:
Anger Management, Cube²: HyperCube, Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb, White Oleander, Phone Booth, High Anxiety

I am ready and not packed to go to Hungary this Saturday, wish me all a pleasant flight, even though I am going by train. As a big preparation.. I have done my do. I let myself be barbered. The last time was when I oh em.. went to Moscow. I tend to be cut when I go on holidays lol. At least I don't get cross lol. There is a thing with my do and my glasses though:

Yesterday I was in town to buy some irrelevant camping materials. I stood in line to pay for some goods when I saw a girl staring at me in a bit of a rudely manner. She poked her mother (or very older and fatter sister lol) and mumbled things to her. I could of course not hear or see it. And then it struck me.. could this be the Consulate girl??? The girl I helped at the Russian Consulate and then bumped into in Moscow! I had only seen her twice, months ago, and I suffer from face blindness.. so I was far from sure. I stared a bit back but it was my turn to pay and I had to shift my focus to that. Could it be her though?? Well she said she would stay there a couple of months.. it is now more than three months later. So she could be back in Holland again. But she lived in Groningen (200km from here).. and Eindhoven is not really a place to just go to.. when you live in Groningen. So it could not be her. Still.. when I walked out of the store, I saw her walking again with her parents (or older sister/brother lol) and she turned round once, to see, said something to her dad and walked on. I was in doubt, should I wave should I shout, or should I be Olaf and be a wuss. The answer seems obvious. Surely she had more trouble recognising me, I had way longer hair then back then when I met her first and also the glasses. But she had longer hair too! and more tan (she apparantly DID experience the Russian spring lol).

So in short I will never be sure if it was her. But between you, me, and a pack of cotton balls, it was her. Oh well.. until we meet again.


Ik ben binnen........binnen.

No leg to stand on, no arm to shoot with
excuse my lack of using any capitals or any other kind of luxury in text. i refuse to use my right hand still while typing so i have to do with my left alone which is very tiring as well and makes me want to type very little. i am trying to overcome this by using either speech recognition software or handwriting recognition in combination with my drawing pad. until then enjoy the new picture page (without much text sadly, for reasons known)

Miserere

..Or The Day I Stopped And Became The Bomb
There is this weird thing going on here that you have to make decisions. The nasty thing with them is that you have to make them yourself and other people don't understand anything about your issue. If you ask for advice they give it to you, but it never is the right advice, no matter which suggestion they make. I am notoriously lousy at making decisions. It is not only that I find it hard to find out what choice is the best choice, it is more that I do find it out later. Incidentally I always seem to go for the worst option.

That is why most of the time I choose not to choose. This has a few advantages, which I sadly cannot recall right now. But also a few disadvantages which I am more than happy to recall and you are less than happy to hear. It makes me fall behind in university because 100% of my actions here now are free choices. Since the options are limitless, my brain cannot come to any sensible solution and shuts down. I am right now forcing it to apply for an external project at some institute.

Stressful moments are terrible.. since if my brain has to choose between all the tasks I have to do this week, it chooses not to choose and I end up doing nothing at all.

The Angry White Boy
This all doens't mean I am not busy lol. I am pondering on a new main page and next week I will try to feature a new picture page which will cover my everyday life in last May, which will naturally include my love.

When the moon hits your eye.. like a big pizza pie, that's amore.