My girlfriend and I will be one year back together, the fifth of november. I know that very well, because she had to repeat it to me about a dozen times the last few months. I have a terrible memory.
I’m making her something. I just succeeded in putting together an essential part: a non-stable multivibrator. Don’t kid yourself, it’s not a sex toy. It’s an electronic circuit that causes a strobing voltage, in this case to power a number of flickering LEDs. That’s all I can tell right now, My girlfriend might read this.
This is the very first electrical circuit I ever made, mind you. When I first put it together the bitch wouldn’t work. I thought I had fried a transistor when soldering, I heard they’re quite sensitive. So I went out again to buy me a couple new ones, replacing them one by one and testing the circuit each time. No luck. So I thought, hmm, it must be the capacitors, even though that’s quite unlikely. But to fry a resistor, you have to be really stupid. So again, to the shop and back. Upon taking both of them out, I finally found I had switched them and they were soldered in the wrong place. At the time I was putting them in, I didn’t realize they’re not supposed to be switched. Aren’t I clever? But hey, after a week or so, I finally got them to work. Quite satisfying.
I was planning on writing a review of the two Tool concerts I got to see this week. But ah, dear reader, who am I to judge perfection? Who am I to critisize a God, to describe a miracle, tell about a constant trance filled with roaring lyrics, auditive masturbation and begging for more?
But yeah, here goes:
First of all, the production (I was in the crew, fuck yeah) sucked hairy balls. In fact, if it wasn’t the lamest crew I have ever worked with, it’s a close tie. There were a goddamn 30 of us RoadRunners, more than enough to co-ordinate and get the surprisingly low-budget show on the road. But no. First, they let all 30 of us unload a truck. Then, another. Then, we pushed the cases to where they went. Then we waited some 30 minutes. Repeat twice and continue as such. Concidering I had slept 6 hours in the past 48, I really needed my endorfines to stay awake. No such luck: I was falling asleep where I stood.
The chronologically fist show was an extra one, because the first planned sold out within a week or two. Finding a suitable "house" probably proved quite difficult, and planning was done in a hurry. No surprise, both licked ass. The concert was held in a hangar, actually really unfit for the purpose. People could hardly see and the acoustics were terrible. But oh well. It’s still Tool.
The first concert was, to be expected, not quite as good as the first one. Of course, it easily shot off to the astronomical level we’re used of Tool, but nevertheless, I enjoyed the second concert, in an actual concert hall, with sloping floor and stands all around, a whole lot more. That might have had something to do with the lack of two girls yapping to eachother whenever they had the chance, INCLUDING during the trippy parts in Blame Hoffman and Parabol, created and granted life by Justin and Adam solely for the purpose of drifting through time and space, carried on the soft, suble tones of their godly sex organ they call a guitar.
Girlfriends were replaced by old-time pals, a damn hot hangar by a concert hall, and Sober by Swamp Song, which I prefer, actually. During the whole time, Maynard had a gas mask on, with his microphone sticking out from it where a filter goes, hiding his face. He kept to the back of the stage, next to the drums, and in front of a square screen which the most out-of-your-mind CGI effects were projected on. Each artist had his own screen, and often all you would see of them was their outline before the artistic impressions of the music.
I was especially pleasantly surprised by the average age of the fans present. Tool has sort of an image problem in the US, where they are often compared to bands such as Slipknot and Korn and such. But no, most of us were adults, sticking with Tool for years, from long before 10,000 days and all the propaganda surrounding it. No Snake/Moshpits, no screaming in your ear or frontline soldiers nagging to you to get up front. Just plain, friendly music lovers, getting together to enjoy the band of the century. My life is pretty much complete now, I can die happily now.
Then again. VNV Nation is coming to Antwerp in march. I am especially looking forward to that. For those oblivious to good taste: VNV Nation is a new wave-inspired, 80’s style electro band, with heavy voice and lyrics and yummy beats. Anyone interested, try Beloved, Chrome, Joy, Honour, and Electronaut if you like it.
My dear norwegian friend has come to pay our humble little Calimero country a visit for a week. She seems content about it, and I sure am. We did all sorts of things to explore what Gent has to offer, had beautiful moments together, and busied ourselves with mischief and vandalism if we got bored. Her hotel caught fire, fountains broke, and tears were shed. All in all, everything a vacation needs.
My lovely girlfriend and a newly acquired friend from Antwerp joined us on our discoveries, and we all had a blast together. I am glad to see she has picked up the travel virus now, checking prices on plane tickets the day she arrived home.
Traveling is a surprisingly emotional thing, especially when you managed to make a few friends abroad. I encourage anyone thinking of going on a trip. You’ll learn more about yourself than ever before, and see things from a different perspective. It’s living all over.
Of course, spending every single day with her, left me little time for myself. Not that I mind, but combined with last week, which was all work and no play, I’m glad to have a few days to myself. I do hope work will pick up again soon, though. I left my disc player in my colleague’s car and I want it back, god damnit!
All in all, I am loving my life right now. Capoeira lessons are going great; I think I’m a good student and I’m becoming much more lithe as we learn all sorts of exciting new moves. The fountain thing is actually working, I have a good feeling about it. I get messages from work saying I do a great job, which is saying a few things. Whatever I’m doing, it rides like a train. Oh yeah, I’m so loving myself, I’d fuck me if I could.