All in one place.

I just found these pictures from New Years Eve.
That was a remarkable - and lovely - day due to the fact that all my old friends who now live in different countries were here, all in one place.

I miss them all the time.

What you say.

Can’t tell if it’s poetic or just plain inaccurate.

Primary personality trait: regretfulness.

“I can humiliate myself to your face. I can weep through my own midnights.”

Thinking about it, it’s actually rather surprising how much I like Xiu Xiu. I feel like I should be more annoyed by it, but I’m not. But it’s definitely not in the same vein as most of the things I listen to.
But then again, given the fact that I am mostly bored by what I usually listen to, maybe I’m on to some really great insight here. Heh.

I have some soul searching to do.
But I am a bit apprehensive of what I might find.

It’s not like this is irrelevant now.

Been rummaging through the music files.
This stuck out with its loveliness.



A small and quick and urgent song.

The ears of death.

So, as I see it, the problem constructs itself in equal portions out of the fact that there is always a tomorrow, and the fact that there are never enough tomorrows.

Interrail #10: Ghent

It goes on!
Ghent was a day trip while we were stationed in Antwerp. We went there on July 21st, which incidentially is the Belgian National Holiday. So everything was closed. Also, we arrived there the day after the Gentse Feesten. Or maybe during the festival. But the atmosphere definitely had a “morning after” vibe. That means there was rubbish everywhere and throughout the old town there was an unmistakable and very pungent aroma of beer, processed by the human body. If you know what I mean. It was the day Ghent had been turned into the Gents! (Oww!)
Given the fact that Ghent is known for its picturesque niceness, that was a bit un-nice. Bad timing, I guess.
We definitely made the best of it by fleeing the site of devastation and seeking the comfort of the local museum of modern art.
PICTURES!

Dirty, smelly Ghent.

It could’ve been so pretty.

Weeeird architecture.

A few bikes.

Random corner. With bikes.

Hier kwaak ik.

Kunst!

Broodthaers!

Storage depot!

Doing the art thing.

Inside installations.

Institution.


Right-o. Have a nice day!

Difference studies.

T’s blogpost got me philosophising about difference again. Difference is my grand theory, if I have such a thing, only that there isn’t really a theory as such, just a sort of grid through which I perceive the world, in which difference and power are defining notions. It’s all very Foucaldian, I’m afraid.

I started out writing this as a comment to the C. S. Lewis quote, and then realised that it isn’t really a comment on the C. S. Lewis quote.

Experiencing difference is the most important and difficult thing. Often we don’t do it in a profound enough way – either we ignore it or only perceive it in terms of dichotomy, which actually reduces difference into sameness (because you end up with two identical concepts, only one of them has a negative marker). It's wrong but almost inevitable. And as a consequence real understanding fails to materialise.

I actually think that perceptiveness towards difference has to a lot to with your position in power, which is why in terms of language, there is a specifically English perceptual handicap with regards to difference, because *of course* English is the universal language. This is my slightly anti-English prejudice that I like to indulge in. Only it’s not exactly a prejudice, because it’s based on observation, but it’s probably an simplicistic generalisation, or at least it’s not specifically English at all but simply has to do with cultural hegemony. It would be weird if it were specific to Anglophones given the internal heterogeneity of the English language (and the speaking community). But I guess it can be said that many or most English people I’ve meet were monolingual, and I have often been surprised at their lack of understanding and weird way of approaching language difference.

But this is a fragmented thought, as all my thoughts are, and I’m not at all convinced of its accuracy. It might puff away into thin air as soon as I really thought it through. I might come up with equally convincing or unconvincing arguments to refute it. This relativity in my own perception of what I actually think, or if you will, believe, as opposed to the things I think about without really finding any conclusive solution to the problems ... that’s kind of scary and uncomfortable. That’s what my university education has done for me. Made me unable to produce a statement that does not include the words "but then again". To some extent this doubt is good. But it’s also kind of incapacitating. (Help!)

My very humble and doubting nature now makes me realise how ridiculous it is to complain about anybody’s lack of understanding for difference and in the same breath talk about grids and grand theories. Because they too are really quite detrimental to real understanding, aren’t they? Aren’t they another way of just walking through life and reducing difference to sameness, by reducing all experience to the structures that are ready-made in your head? True, but is there really another way of perceiving anything? Da Vinci said that a painter always paints himself, and I guess by the same token all our experiences really are just reflections of our selves.

Not that this is in any way a new insight. No, we all know that.
These are just honestly the things that walk around in my head. I’m somehow quite stuck on this, because the only conclusion I always come to is that there is no conclusion and the only thing I am utterly convinced of is that being utterly convinced of anything would be quite wrong. It’s the post-modern conundrum.

This is not really blog material, because what people want are pretty pictures and song quotes that succinctly and brilliantly describe what I feel. I don’t think I’d enjoy reading what I just wrote, but I’m on a mission to make my genuine thoughts a little more shareable so I can refrain from sharing only shallow mass-approved trifles that don’t really have much meaning. Call it an experiment.

Interrail #9: Antwerp

Oh my god, do you still remember that I went on an interrail trip in the summer of 2010? I hardly do! And I’m still only halfway through posting the pictures on my blog! I really need to get this in order. So full steam ahead.

The last stop was Amiens. Then we crossed over, or more precisely under the channel via Eurostar and ended up in London. From there, we took the train to Ipswich, where we spent the night camping outside the station. (If you type Ipswich into google, the third auto-complete suggestion is "Ipswich murders". I did not tell my mother that.) In the morning, we continued our journey to Beccles and Henham Park, where we enjoyed three wonderful days of the very recommendable Latitude Festival. I will post pictures of this at some later point. They’re on film, and I haven’t scanned them yet. After the festival, we went back to London, and spent a very brief afternoon sauntering through the East End. Then we took the Eurostar back to the continent. And eventually ended up in Antwerp, Belgium.

Antwerp is nice. All in all I have very positive memories of it – the Rubenshuis, mussels, the botanical garden, just walking around the town and looking at those beautiful facades with their crow-stepped gables. The first, strange da Vinci-themed hotel we stayed at first, and the even weirder hippie-themed backpacker hostel we stayed at later. You know when you simply feel quite at home in a place, though you cannot really put a finger on the reason why this is so? Antwerp was a bit like that, for me.

Caution. Many pictures ahead.

Upon arrival, Max and I interact with the locals. Local statues, that is.

Strange architecture.

Some more architecture.

Guy Fawkes.

Crow-stepped gables, postcards, and my arse at the Grote Markt.

City Hall.

Oh dear, I'm kind of obsessed with these.

Beautiful botanical garden. <3

Drinking Duvel, looking very "German".

MUSSELS!!!

Visiting the Rubenshuis.

Antwerp Cathedral.

Walking on "water" outside the Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten.

Odd but interesting exhibition at the KMSKA.

The incredible Railway Station. I LOVE railway architecture! Byebye, Antwerp.

Post-Christmas-Christmas-Post

What’s Christmas about if not cats going crazy about the wrapping paper and boxes and indecent amounts of food?

Yes, Bill, there’s treats in that stockings.

Wrapping to play with? It’s Cat Christmas!

Canapés. Here we have the shrimp, the salmon and the venison pâté. Nothing to see here, vegetarians! I admit, I kinda broke down toward the end of the evening and devoured several shrimp canapés. I am weak. Shrimp urges!

Christmas table total view.

Vegetarian canapés (lentil "maki", cheese-pear-walnut-chicory-ships, artichoke nests). And some non-vegetarian as described above.

A fairly large amount of devilled eggs. <3

Onion scones filled with goat cheese. These were so yummy!

Some more puff pastry artichoke nests.

Bratwurst canapés with sauerkraut on top. We made these because bratwurst with sauerkraut is (interestingly) the traditional Christmas food in my mum’s family. Oh and also: bacon-wrapped plums.

As you can see I took no pictures of people. I could say something self-ironic about my priorities. But I guess, even if I have no pictorial evidence of this fact, to me Christmas is also about having the whole family in one place. This year we did pretty well, I think. I mean, it went pretty harmoniously as family gatherings go.

One year ago.

Approximately one year ago.

If it doesn’t have a name it must be normal ...

I’ve been having a strange time in the last few days – or maybe it has actually been going on for much longer, it’s hard to tell. It’s definitely somehow “broken out” now, so that I can’t hide it from myself any more. I can hardly remember a time when I’ve felt this low, and so ill equipped to deal with the lowness. I cannot really say what the reason for it all is. It seems it is no reason and all reasons. I simply haven’t been feeling very good about myself, recently, and there is nothing that seems fit to pull me out of it. My thoughts keep going in circles as I’m trying to figure out what it is that makes me so unhappy. I keep coming up with too many different reasons, none of them very reasonable but none-the-less real and heart-felt. I’m a bit worried that I’ve somehow slipped into a full-blown depression because I’ve never been like this.

In times of stress, I find it really hard to maintain an acceptable online presence. Sorry! I hope I’ll be back to a normal heart rate and posting frequency by approximately December 2nd.