Diary of a madman

Another week of walking the line. No hurting people, no telling them to please, eat shit and die. Smile, nod, pay. Like it comes naturally.
 
I managed to make 4 appointments on saturday. I went to the first one and then it came to me that I’m actually putting energy in a lost cause, after I talked to my friend of the phone about the deal and he matter-of-factly noted that there’s no way. Not today. The reason is a good one but not the point here. I was just too anxious to get somewhere I lost track of other stuff. But it’s not up to me, all I can do is sit and wait.
 
Saturday sucked, so amazingly hard. Weather gods decided it was a good day for yet another deluge this summer and it poured rain all damn day. All I was wearing was jeans and a longsleeve teeshirt so I practically went hypothermal every 5 minutes I stood still. What a day to leave the house. So after I forgot my notes that had the addresses on them and public transportation busting me a nut AGAIN (now they’re doing it on purpose) I had to wait, 40 minutes, between a herd of lost-in-time flower power hippies.
Yes, hippies. Apparently some retarded TV-show called Fata Morgana, that had people in a small town do idiotic stuff like… "Everyone Get Undressed!!" (no joke) came to our humble village to fill our small minds with the excitment of being on TV. I’m pretty sure they have some random generator for making these things up, like "Everyone | Jump | On Table | In Animal Costume" or "1000 People | Play | On The Floor | Woodstock". And then they stare at it for 20 minutes trying to figure out what the hell does it mean. But really smart people wrote the code for that generator so they’re probably just not getting it. Then one of hem jumps up and says "I got it! 1000 people have to play woodstock on the floor!" And they all applaud and cheer so nobody would notice they still don’t have a clue to what’s it about. And so they start building the stage, set, install the camera’s, with nobobdy having any idea what for. But no one asks, because that would make them seem dumb. And the emperor is clothed. So eventually they re-built the first edition of woodstock, with no artists, and they hang up huge banners saying "Everyone MUST come to woodstock on saturday!" all around town (again, I’m not kidding).
Who The Fuck Gives A Shit About Woodstock??? I’ll tell you who: NOT narrow-minded small-town IDIOTS that only care about showing off their financial status with ‘Skappa Sports’ teeshirts (Like they care about sport at all!?) and shiny, A-class motorbikes going 8 times the speed limit. No, those who do care are television-watching hippies (let us count: one, two.) from the nearest city. And how do they get to our shithole? You guessed it. BY BUS. And then they arrive, are handed plastic flowers, but -oops- the organisers didn’t think the weather might turn and they forgot to provide any shelter for the flood that was going on. "But hey, they’re hippies, they use trees for everything!" Only, the hippies didn’t think so. They only use trees to have sex with.

So after "Woodstock: Revised" failed miserably they had to get back to their appartment in the big city to become one with nature again. In front of their telly. How? By Bus. The same bus I was on. 40 minutes. 40 fucking minutes, I had to listen to how they were unemployed for their hard-core ideals and how they lived off state money (which, by the way, I provide). They get off of this, I swear! Most of them had an erection where they stood! How I wanted to tell them to stick their peace and love where it hurts the most, and go "hug a tree". Instead, I looked the other way, turned up my disc player and swallowed hard. If I’m going on about anarchy I don’t want any bloke who doesn’t know me judge my ideals, either. They’re just lucky no one bumped into me as they did their ‘peace love and understanding’ dance.

 
Now for something different. I can foresee the future! I went out to grab a bite since, you know, I die if I don’t, and there was a little old lady sitting at a table in the pitta place where I ordered. Apparently I looked pretty talkative because she started telling me about her bladder operation (Not something you want to hear right before dinner) and her dead husband, who was an artist. Oddly, the first thing she asked me was if I were gay. Second was my date of birth. From this, she could tell that I can foresee the future. She asked if I were a rat and when I nodded (she meant my chinese zodiac. I was born in the year of the rat, a small part about astronomy which I absolutely love) she said ‘If you want something really bad, it will come to you. Have you ever noticed that?’ Um yeah. I mean, there was that time where I was a sad pile of misery about my ex. She came and made it all better, didn’t she? And that time when I wanted to take off to America. That worked out pretty well. And! I’ve only been wanting to get my own place for what now, 2 years, and Already I’ve come this far! HAH. What a bull.
 
Ironically, since my spendings are minimized and my income has increased, I’m well on my way to becoming filthy fucking rich. Right now I have enough to skip to the US any time I wanted. It’s almost a shame I don’t want to, anymore. I still want to see the same places, but honestly, I’m not going to sit there by myself. Friends who said ‘Yeah sure I’ll come with you’ gave up, and people saying ‘Always welcome here’ didn’t mean it as much as they thought they did. I guess I better save up, I’ll probably need it once I do get to live in Ghent. And who knows, if I stick home for a couple years, I might have enough for that quad bike I’ve been dreaming of since I was 12. I don’t care for cars or expensive luxury. Give me my music and a friend to talk to and I’m the happiest bloke in Belgium.
One thing I’m happy to spend my money on: I’m getting my camera fixed! I put it in 2 weeks ago to get a price for it. This alone will cost me €17. Ripoffs. And then I still have to decide if I want it fixed or not. But hey, if I get lucky, they’ve lost it and they’ll have to get me a new one. "What do you mean, get me another Sony DC? I had a newer model! More expensive, with tons of gadgets and modes and it could go ‘TRANSFORMIZE.’ and turn into this transformer robot that eats bureaucrats and hippies "YOUR HEAD A SPLODE."! Get me one of those, damnit!" Heh heh. They’re a week late already, so you never know….
Seriously now. I can’t wait to get it back. Back when it still worked, you would always see my camera first, and then me. Some of the pictures I shot straight from tape can be found here.
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