loose ends

this, of course, is a terrible precedent.
what if everything was like this?
or everyone like you?
what would become of the fishies?

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My neighbour is great friends of the owner of foodism, which I love, and is looking for pictures of the place on flickr for his homepage. He finds out that I have pictures of the place, likes them, uses one, and then finds out that i’m located on van oldenbarneveltstraat, too, and relizes we’re neighbours. Emails me. Chat briefly. I, then, find out, that he is the only neighbour that I’d actually recognize, since we’ve run in to each other a few times downstairs. I also find out that he’s not a bicycle repair person, but a MySQL and PHP and Apache and OS X liking person. Small world.

Hi neighbour.

if you make a rule and break it: does it count?

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Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire

The other cool thing about always having done your shopping at one place (AH) is that when you find out about another place (Dirk) it’s like divine revelation. Everything changes. The world as you know it ceaes to exist and you are immersed in newness and colorful groceries and tasty food.

(i knew it would end up like this)
(it always does)

back in rainy amsterdam after a week of sun and family.
porto is an underrated city. beautiful, cheery, full of crooked streets and old people and bars.
.
(not that it matters)

I want you forever; but not right now.

And it rained all night and then all day
The drops were the size of your hands and face
The worms come out to see what’s up
We pull the cars up from the river

I’ve been meaning to write a journal (blog / diary / etc.) since forever. but the thinking was always that why should I start now, when I should have started ages ago? starting now, after all, is irrelevant because I’ve already not written down too many things of the past anyway.

So in 1999 or so I started with a word-file called catatonia (actually, called journal.doc at the time). Used it to and from for a few years. During this time I meddled with Blogger, too, but did not like it. All thos entries went back into catatonia afterwards.

Then, in June 2002 I started writing dreams, which I kept up for about two years, writing hundreds and hundreds of surprisingly interesting posts (as judged by me today, years afterwards).

And now I’m writing here in loose ends. Without an audience, as far as I know. But still trying keep a voice and clear thoughts together.

What really strikes me, though, is how much fewer coherent thoughts I have now, when compared to four years ago. How many fewer good ideas and topics, and how much less I feel inclined to devote time to write. Especially when considering that my media consumption has gone up tenfold.

Which leads me to believing that media consumption (articles, books, movies, music) has an adverse effect on clear thought and motivation to write when you’re too busy refreshing your 178 rss feeds and hoping something interesting has been dugg.

Long story short: I will try to spend less time reading pointless articles and blog posts, and more time writing here.

design is not making what you are told.