Just another WordPress weblog, with vodka.
Today’s the day, I’m moving out to university! Don’t know if I can make tomorrows daily, but I’ll try. All depends on how long it takes Univ to hook me up to them internets.
I’m still in the process of packing a few last resources, and then I’m off.
Maybe to never post again… But I probably won’t. You now just stay tuned, and until the next time, it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
Somebody just started going after Sunny, so naturally I can’t really scribble my heart out today. Also, I’ve got a festival to get to.
I know, I know, to much parties, but hey, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
Or suffering from a fatal wound, perhaps. But until that happens, it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
Are my titles getting weirder, or just longer? I’ll have to look into that.
Hello hello hello! Short posting time again, seeing how I’ve pend most of my time today not sleeping enough, driving to Leuven and cleaning plus stocking my shack, in which I shall be studying psychology for the next two years of my short lived life. It’s an awesome place, and I’ll tell you all about it later, but I just got a message that an old metal loving friend is back in town, so we’re going to hit our favorite bar (“the metal corner”) again. It’s actually on the corner of the street, so that’s cool. And I’ll also have to go pooling tonight, and I’ve got a metal festival to attend to tomorrow with yet another old metal loving friend. I know so many people who have a good taste in music.
I’m hoping I can show v1ctr0 how the game of pool is played (again), and I’ll have some drinks to drink. Yesterdays party was awesome as well; more on that later.
I really should go, can’t leave Mr. Pigamer waiting, but I do still have time for a little ABZG news: we’re meeting no less then the real Cervini (Harry Potter, Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, …) soon, and we’re hoping to add him to the team. That would be awesome.
There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun. I’ll try to find it now, and until I do, it’s
Loco – Out!
Oh, and I’ll send a mail to Cervini. V1ctr0 can wait…
Uch!
Okay, so I’ve overslept and lost track of time, so I still have got to eat and find a present, so I’ve got a party to get to in time, so what?
Point is, I did not miss today’s daily, huzzah!
ABZG news will be posted soon, but until then, why not look up “abzg” on facebook? Come on, you know you want to! And until you do, it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
The title has very little to do with the contents of today’s daily. But freedom rocks, and so does LV. VD, not so much. Hi, I’m EPL and welcome to the blog!
As promised in yesterdays long daily, I’m going to post another poem with some commentary, bolt and italics, respectively. I’ll tell you all about the ABZG meeting tomorrow (the stuff that’s not classified, anyways), and the next day, I’m moving my assets to the lovely city of Leuven, because university wants me to learn more psychology thingies. I might not be able to post, but I’ll do my very best. Promise. But, it’s shorter daily time again, until I get my proverbial ass in the proverbial right place.
Or was it head? Ah, no difference there, really…
Got to hurry this up, only twelve more minutes until I miss today and post tomorrow. So now, it’s poetry time!
the sun is shining through my window,
i open my eyes and look out,
its springing, there’s birds singing,
outside is a small child swinging,
i look out and stare at its beauty,
because that is as far is i can get,
i can’t return to the life i once had.
that one is gone and away.
so i’m staying here in the fray.
i can’t get back on the road again,
can’t see places where i’ve never been,
seeing things that i might never see again.
So here i sit,inside my little box,
with nothing to do then sit and look,
another beautifull day has gone by,
without me to enjoy it, makes me want to cry,
sometimes i wished i could fly away,
to a place where problems wouldn’t be,
but i know that there is not such place,
because that is not like me.
i am a guy who’s life got turned upside down,
and i don’t know how to put back the broken pieces.
Some call it bad luck, some call it fate.
i don’t know what it is, but this is something to hate.
I have been given a blessing,
and with it givin a curse,
i shall do like fate would have it,
i will not fight, nor i shall resist.
May the things that have to be done happen,
But spare the rest, and take it out on only me,
i choose to carry this burden,
i will carry it until they put me into my grave.
i cherish the ones i love,
i hold them close, they mean a lot to me,
that’s why i feel like making a distance,
because i still remember:
The winner takes all,
It’s the thrill of one more kill,
The last one to fall,
Will never sacrifice their will.
you know i will always carry you in my heart,
knowing that you all are safe,
and when i know that, its doesn’t feel bad anymore,
i’m happy to make you all happy,
knowing you all have a care free life.
someone should carry this,
might aswell be me,
knowing you all are fine,
makes me feel free.
feeling trapped and free at the same time,
feels strange but it feels fine.
a trusting feeling surrounds me,
because..you all are free.
Edit:
It IS a very strong poem, maybe not always in the most fitting ways, but extremely strong.
It starts of very typical, a comfortable feeling, but then, immediately a feeling of suffering is announced. You run with that thought and give us a glance into where it’s coming from, the omnipresent background in most of your work I’ve read so far, the grave feeling of a loss. What gives this one a deeper level is the next layer, on first sight is seems like it is only a loss, but then it will hit you like a slowly moving brick, the loss is final, there is no hope for gain. A downward spiral of misery begins to unfold itself. What is left encumbers you so greatly, the burden is to heavy to take with, and so you are forced to solitude, unable to move, unable to live. You are, but cannot become. And you have taken comfort in this, accepted your fate, no need to build false ideals, no need to cling to false hope, there is no escape available. And still, a certain pugnacious personality lives within you. This personality only rarely lets itself know, but is clearly there. Though your mind knows and accepts your burden, this one still rejects it and wishes to fight it ’till the end.
Toward the end of the poem, we are placed, all of a sudden, in a total different sphere. It is as if you are thinking over what you’ve achieved, and who you knew, as if all of that lies already in the past, we are transported from the combat between the two personalities and their life to their postmortem scenery. As if you are looking through the window, but are standing on the opposite side of where we are, just about to turn your back and leave for good, comforting both us and your inner self. We get to begin understanding that it’s good, that it’s not another loss but a gain, that we and you now exist, and life our existence out in peace. It’s a very southing end, it feels like a goodbye, but after all of the emotion we had to endure throughout the poem, it comes as a satisfying relief. I get a vision of a man holding his hands to the glass, smiling, an linking eyes with his loved ones, then turning away, taking his hand of the glass only when he is to far away, and walking on into the darkness, his friends watching him, holding hands, at peace.
And that’s why I feel this poem is so strong, after all the emotions literally shot at us (<– pun intended), the rage, the sadness, the dieing hope, the fierceness, in the end, there is an overpowering sense of overall peace and calmness. It certainly has a reflective attribute to it, and I would say even a meditative atmosphere surrounding it. There is a lot of depth in this and I’m sure I’ve only just nicked the tip of the iceberg. A remarkable achievement.
That’s what I got out of it, feel free to comment, add, discuss 
Poetry time! A little intro about the unknown writer, and a little comment on the comment, with in between a nice, original poem, that’s what you’re in for today. Afterwards, if you still have time, I’ll write a little something about ABZG progress, but we’re starting with the intro, first.
Wouter Kortes (03-06-1987-09-05-2008) was one of the best friends I ever had, primarily because of what he made me think. He was a man who had achieved great insight into life, but only trough the horrible story which his life had to tell. I met him on a forum, and though we had plans to meet in real life with a bunch of Dutch people on that forum, I never saw him in real life. All I have of him now are some audio files, and his writings. These he posted in our Writer’s Section at the forum, which I moderated (being a writer myself and all). His work spoke to me, like little others ever have. Granted, they are no masterpieces. But they are something which in my personal opinion is better than beautiful. They are real, and they are pure. Raw, direct, but containing true greatness. I do admit to be quite biased regarding the subject, but even still, I think his work deserves to be read.
But who was he? He grew up in Holland, with a very weak heart. After his untimely demise, I learned from his younger brother Seth that he in fact had already suffered several heart attacks before the age of eighteen. But Wouter himself never had spoken of this, which characterises this truly strong man. He kept his pains for himself, not to himself, but he never wanted to burden anyone with what he had to endure. On the contrary, he was the kind of guy that would attend the splinter in your finger, whilst ignoring his own broken arms. Wouter was a fighter. A fighter, and a winner. It did not matter what wars he had to face, he endured, it cost him, but he endured nonetheless. And I believe he endures ever still. Because that’s how I have come to know him.
He was playful, a true rascal if you would. He could make you laugh, he could make you feel great. Just by reading his words, his randomness, one of those strong smiles would begin wrinkling your face. Wouter played a great part in my aging process, most likely. And quite literally, to. I never had a father. Not a real one, anyways. There is a man sitting on a chair downstairs at this moment, but I don’t think we ever really spoke. He looks like me, so I but he donated some little swimmers to create me. But he must regret it, judging from his behaviour. But I did have Wouter. Because of his eternal struggle for life, he was wiser than most men I know, and because of his eternal questions, we talked about things most people never get to talk about. It’s a good thing, but it shaped me and who I am today. So, if I do have to pick a father figure, I’m going to go with him. And with my grandpa. Because grandpa rocks, too.
Actually, Wouter was also my online dad, for real. Real, speaking of course in the photoshopping Internet terms. You see, we had a topic on the forum, called “Adoption Service”. An awesome concept, where adult members could adopt minors, and then compete for who has the best family. Naturally, me and my forum dad kicked ass, by not really caring. We just said we were the best, and it was as such.
I’ve kind of been avoiding talking about the wars he had to fight. But it’s real hard trying to find the correct words. Or at least, that’s my excuse, because even though it’s been more than a year, the hurting doesn’t stop. But I should cry. He would not have wanted it. He would have wanted me to screw around, steal a mailbox, take a short pause and smile at the heavens, even though neither of us really believed in them. So I must try to do just that. And I do, I do, but it can get to much. Not that he’d feel bad about it. He’d care for you. I know that to be true.
Wouter had learned, all throughout his life, that being a good person pays of in the end. He did have a serious edge, but if you were lucky enough to get close enough to get to know him, you would soon come to find how caring and loving he really was. When he was in the hospital, he would use up his last strength to write down some forum names, asking his brother to tell those people he’s okay. Even though he was not. But the forum loved him, and he loved the forum.
He wrote a lot of those, messages that someone else needed to deliver.
Wouter rode a truck, but he also wanted to learn. He joined the army, so that they could pay for his studies. But then Afghanistan happened. The Netherlands send out their troops, and after a while they brought Wouter back. He was alive, but he missed part of his leg. Wouter had seen war. He had seen the face of evil. He had downed that face his mask. Wouter had killed, and had seen people die. This changed him, forever, and he would never have Peace of mind again. Towards the end, he started asking more and more whether or not he would be forgiven, should there be a God. Because he did not believe anyone or anything ever could right his wrongs. With his hurt leg and the knowledge of what he did, Wouter now had some more things to bare with. But Karma wasn’t done with him, yet. Because shortly after, Wouter was diagnosed with cancer. He would beat the disease for a while, but it came back. It joined forces with his heart problems, and at the age of twenty, on the ninth of May, the same day that man downstairs was born, Wouter died. According to Seth, his brother, he had looked deep into his eyes, which seemed to want to say those words he had so often spoke before, “it’s okay”, and then faintly smiled. I don’t know if he actually went with that smile on his face, but I like to believe he did. Learning of this news devasted me, and still reduces me to tears. But Wouter is at rest now. For the first time since he was born, he had no more wars to fight. He chose to let go. He had arranged everything for his own funeral in advance. He was cremated, and he lives on forever in the hearts and minds of the ones who got to know him as a friend. He is one of my greatest examples, greatest inspirations, greatest friends, he is why I still have hope. He is a hero, of that I’m sure. And because he was, I shall endure
“Ik zal je nooit vergeten, vriend. Hoe ver je ook zult zijn.”
I can never tell you who this man was in words. You’d have to know him, to even understand what I am trying to say. But I will post some of his poems now, and later in this blog. The poems are in bold and my first comment (as the forum moderator) will be in italics. I was younger then, but I like what I said. And it fills up the page real neatly.
The first poem is titled “Questions”, and was posted Feb 17 2008, 02:33 PM. The second is called “Confession”, posted Feb 17 2008, 02:33 PM. They were obviously written at an other time, but I do not know when or under which circumstances. I can guess, but I’d rather not. I know the circumstances under which he wrote the poem I’ll be posting tomorrow (“Free”), and so I know Wouter didn’t write when he felt like it. He wrote when he had to. I hope you enjoy.
Questions
Weary, tell me will you hold me?
When wrong, will you scold me?
When lost will you find me?
But they told me a man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end but I’m only human
Everyone taking control of me
Seems that the world’s
Got a role for me
I’m so confused
Will you should to me?
And care enough to bear me?
In our darkest hour in my deepest despair
Will you still care? Will you be there?
Although on fist sight nothing out of the ordinary, this one actually has got a lot of meaning.
It’s quite different from what I’m used to, from you, normally the drive for your poems is something set in the exterior, but this one is completely coming from your person and yours alone.
It seems to drive on a hidden fear, a feeling of some sort of darkness slowly entering and the fear for that evil. Something that’s coming solely for you, something you can’t defend against, something you know and accept, but deep down still fear. And so you wish to overcome this fear, feeling the need to know whether or not there is actually something to be feared. If you can’t defend against it, you can only fight for you, and only your dearest can fight alongside with you. Somehow, you know you cannot face it alone, and need certainty in this matter, will you be alone and is there fear, or will you have a group close to you, burning a bright light to keep this darkness out.
But I feel you’re not asking these questions, you’re stating them, in an empty room, on an empty chair, for nobody to hear, nobody but the darkness that awaits you. It feels as if it has already won, and in remorse you whisper these verses as a wish. You feel like you know the answer already, and that this answer is no. Buried in the text are the questions ‘why didn’t you’, not as an attack, but as a personal consultation.
This has a very strange effect on me (and I like it), not sadness, but a dark emotion, while in your other work I felt like the outsider, I now feel like the subject, the one that is living this, while the poet is the outsider, the one merely describing what he sees, the darkness that was in the poem has escaped on turned, now, it creeps up on the reader.
If you can bring written emotions to life, there’s no denying just how talented you truly are. You rule.
Confession
in our darkest hour in my deepest despair
Will you still care? Will you be there?
In my trials and my tribulations
Through our doubts and frustrations
In my violence my turbulence
Through my fear and my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow
I’ll never let you part for you’re always in my heart
If you haven’t read Questions, do it first.
Thank you.
To me, his is very clearly a sequel to Questions, but now from a personal view, we get the addition. Everything that was buried in the other text, brakes free here and turns very personal. The ending leaves you breathless, as the one that was called to now turns out isn’t criticized, but loved, respected and deeply appreciated, no matter what.
I completely see this as the reflection on Questions, so I cannot comment further, but this one by far is the one with the best title, also something to be aware of.
Tomorrow, we’re having our final meeting, and then we’ll begin with ABZG. This really is an important moment in my life, I have lived up to this day for years. I do wish Wouter would have been here, but he is where he should be. And for that, I am thankful.
Loco – Out.
Uch
Hopefully you have already noticed that today’s daily finally marks the return of them scribbles with the acceptable length. I call them Djongos and they live in my imaginary world. The one that only exists in my head, and southern Calgary (that’s in Canada, North of Lethbridge and the State of Montana. And that, in turn, is like Hannah. Hannah is a disney product, and so is Spiderman.
The world is going nuts, and am aiding in the process. Because that’s how cool I am!
Okay, first of all, I’d like to say a few words about this whole Disney Marvel takeover thing. Not making any conclusions yet, but I’m guessing there’s more to this than they let on. But the public can’t know about that yet, you see? Because it would destabilize the nation. And the very notion of such a thing ever happening strikes fear deep into the hearth of every major megalomaniac I know (and I do know a lot of those). So they can’t tell anyone anything, but the signs are clear you know. You just have to find them. And interpret them, correctly. Seriously, black helicopters, google it.
More on the D/M conspiracy when I find solid proof. Solid, of course, by the Internet’s standards. Lovely sure areth they! The standards, I mean. But anyways, I’m going to talk less about my slow yet steady descent into madness, and more about what I’ve been up to these last few days. For starters, I have not been posting any long dailies. No, my laptop isn’t back yet, I’m just making special time for the blog today. And I actually still have some work to do for ABZG, our next meeting (meating, remember?) is in two days and I’m kind of in charge of… a lot. But no worries there, I’ve got it covered. In fact, I have just received an email from a certain F.C., who’s thinking about joining our team, perhaps. Can’t tell you much about it for now, but this guy has worked on Harry Potter and Charlie And The Chocolate Factory before, so getting him to work with us would be the awesome. Yes, so nice that ‘awesome’ in this case deserves an article. It will be published later this week in Cosmo, which I own.
Or not. But the thing is, if you just take my word on everything I say, you’ll have a lot less thinking or pondering to do. And that’s one of those little things which make our everyday lives seem just that slight tad more comfortable. Don’t sweat it, happy to make you feel good. I’m a real puppy petting kinda guy, you know.
Or at least that’s what I tell the cops. And, speaking about cops, I guess I should post a short explanation about what happened to my mate. Well, he basically walked trough the wrong crowd, as those guys are known for fighting at every party to attend, but he knew some of them from before. Guess they didn’t like him walking there, so they knocked him out and kicked his face in. He, on the other had, did nothing but raise his hands into the air, pacivelly. He now has two black eyes, a broken nose and a concussion to show for it. When I tried to help, they chased me away, wrecking my bike as I tried to escape my new found followers. In the end, this was a good thing, as it lured them away from my unconscious friend, as it would seem, giving other mates the chance to call an ambulance. Needless to say I am more than outraged about this, and those guys will get what’s coming to them. One way, or another.
But I’m not going to bore you with sad stories about courtrooms and dickheads (I can say dickheads on the internets, right?), so let’s get back to the original topic. Which was, if I recall correctly, going crazy.
Some might say I am in fact quite the expert in that field. I say I’m just being original, and the leprechauns do agree with me on that, so I am more than likely more right than the others. Which is strange, because politically speaking, I’m not. No Nazi Daykeeper for me! (There has been a little bit of fuzz lately in Belgium because this woman who ran a daycare center out of her house turned out to also have pictures of various Nazi guys, and Hitler, as well as flags and books relating to the subject, in her living room. She also said that it’s nothing to go “AAAAAH!” about, “it’s a point of interest, his visions were phenomenal”. So went on (this was captured on a hidden camera for a documentary) about immigrants and such, but I fear using the exact words might compel google to send the wrong kind of crowd here.) But I was talking about crazy.
I do happen to find my brainwaves being terribly confused between what is and ain’t, can’t deny that. But that’s just because I’m alternative. Or at least, that’s my excuse. What’s yours?
Not answering that, ey? That’s okay… I’ll have uncle Salvador Luco have a word with you, real soon. But no, I’m not a total freak (yet), I just happen to see connections others don’t. And I am certain there’s a lot of logical things happening in the world which everybody sees, but I fail to notice on a daily basis. Probably because I’m busy writing these daily posts. Or working. And that ties in to the subject of today!
Yeah, you see, I was working towards a small tale about what I see at the store. Little intro first, I work from time to time in a shop called Wibra. It sells everyday products and clothing at cheap prizes, and sometimes the quality is a bit Eastern Europy, but we also have all the brands and real good stuff. Sadly though, it’s the cheapness of it all which has led to Wibra gaining the reputation of “lousy” or even “marginal”. It’s not, but in many ways, it is.
You see, because we sell everything so cheap, we get a lot of ’special’ customers. I know a lot persons with a mental handicap that live on health care, who can’t afford the other stores. We also get a lot of immigrants and old people. Most of our shoppers have at least one screw loose, and many even more. Okay, granted, we also get a lot of normal people, but it doesn’t balance out. I know, I’m a Libra. You should know, Wibra shoppers aren’t like any other shoppers.
We also get some drunks. Always the same ones. They drink their beers all day, a few meters away from the store. They smell.
But back to crazy. We also get shoppers who clearly don’t see things so clearly anymore. I’ve gotten used to old little ladies not getting how the world revolves these days, and the regular nutties don’t surprise me anymore with things like walking in and out the store four times, rapidly (I suppose to keep the Universe from imploding) or a big big man trying on girl belts, but today, I met the queen of Strange. My mother (who is also like my boss) told me she’s supposed to be locked up inside a facility with special care guys, but they let their patients out from time to time to enjoy the fresh air.
I have never before heard a woman so convincely shh’ing the voices in her head, or heard a woman laugh like the witches from them movies at random buyable products. Add to that a walk which could have been John Cleese’s (in that one skit about that one ministry), and googly puppet eyes, and you’ve got yourselves my new favorite gal!
But not really. She kind of scared me. Continuously telling unheard voices to be quit is one of my not-so-likeys. But hey, I don’t know what they were saying now, so I might look at it all wrong and distorted. Perhaps the voices were making snooty comments about the store, or maybe they were insulting a foreigner, which we do not tolerate! Although the actual silent and unspoken sentences probably contained the words (or phrases) “burn”, “smother”, “take”, “the power” and “to death” a lot more than I give them credit for. In any combination they saw fit.
I didn’t really dare to get close enough to have a conversation, so I can’t tell you much more about the woman. But I will tell you guys more about other nice and cool customers later in this blog. I’m also going to upload some poetry, and the story behind the author tomorrow, and I’ll tag my earlier posts to keep v1ctr0 subdued in happiness. Not that I owe him anything, quite the contrary, he still owes me sixty four bucks. But I’ll get that money one day… one way, or the other. And until I do, it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
And I’m not posting today. Due to unforeseen events and one of my closest and best friends being attacked, picked up by an ambulance and all, I’m just not in the mood. In fact, I’m pissed as balls, but let’s keep the swearwords to ourselves, shall we?
Thanks, you’re much obliged.
I’ll post what I was going to post today, tomorrow. Until then, it’s
Loco – Out.
Uch.
Yeah yeah yeah, I know, I haven’t put up a real daily in weeks (sort of speak), but don’t despair. I will be here tomorrow, writing for hours on end. Promise. But sadly, until then, it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
Today, I have been drinking and gaming a lot, to test out a new format called “Because Was Drunk”. Needles to say, I am in no state to make a valid post today.
But maybe I’ll put something up latern after having some additional beverages…
But until then it’s
Loco – Out!
Uch.
