Sorry but this is turning out to be a diary entry.
My father had a friend, a divorced mother of two. A very active woman, friend of many and always busy with something.
A few months ago her house burned down while she was at a music festival with my parents. She came home to a house in ashes.
Insurance only covered part of her loss, and the financial blow was a hard one. Friends however, and in particular my father, jumped into action for her and organized two benefit parties for support. She could rent a home from the OCMW at minimal cost and friends were all around her to guide and help her. Despite this, she quickly sunk into a depression.
Despite all the help, all the friends ready for her, her two children and the possibility to recover from this, she took her own life on december 28th.
I just don’t get it, I can’t get my head around it. I recognised symptoms of her depression very early and thought to myself she better watch out with it, but I never thought she would be capable of doing this. It’s easy to say it’s a coward act, instead of facing things and take responsibility for the love and care given to her. But to drive this lively, optimistic woman to this, I’ll be fucked but I just can’t imagine the situation she must have been in. No one seems to; everyone is godsmacked and just, stunned at how this could happen.
They say suicides come in threes, and being told 15 minutes ago, I can imagine that very well. I knew here well but we were never really close. And right now, I feel like absolute shit. I don’t want to imagine how her closest friends are feeling, and I cincerely hope they will find comfort in eachother.
This is the first time I’ve seen this happen this close to me and the sheer horror of it gives me a bitter taste in the mouth. Death alone is such a major shock, and someone dear taking their own life, gets you off guard so much.
I’m way too confused to even try and write this down.
I hope she rests in peace and is taken care of, where ever. And I pray her family and friends will recover from this.
Just when you thought you’ve just about seen it all, something new comes along and you catch yourself with open mouth and a woody again.
Muse fucking rocked. The smooth, lemon sour, ohyesrighthere kind of rockin’. It was noticeable from the very start of the production: Every little thing was just that little better. Speakers, monitor wedges, instruments, lighting,… everything had that extra edge of quality that is normally so easily sacrificed for profit. Even the damn mic stands were top notch.
This trend of superiority translated and injected itself right into the crowd, and the artists. Before the show kicked off, people were dancing to what’s supposed to be the background music, and doing a wave in the stands. The effect you get on stage from this kind of vibe is just unbelievable: the energy just floods you as if it were physically there. It feels like you’re swimming through pea soup, constantly confused and distracted by the massive release of energy before you. I’m trying hard, but it’s just indescribable.
Needless to say, when Muse entered the stage, the place just fucking, exploded. Starting off with Map of the Problematique, the artists managed to steer this crowd and keep its balls into a vice-like grip, gently massaging it up to unseen heights. Butterflies and Hurricanes, Supermassive Black Hole, New Born followed… all sounded equally as tight and near perfection.
Just when you think you’ve seen it all.
With still a pounding erection, the next week I was expected in the Capitole, a theatre here in Gent. The job was to follow-spot (Steering an over sized spotlight to highlight the artist) during rehearsal and shows of a new production, called "De Komedianten Revue". Imagine the most random, retarded follow-up of face making and fart jokes and you’ll begin to comprehend just what a godawful show this is.
The few things funny about it aren’t the sketches, but the stereotypical cast and crew. The main actor and director is a socially retarded asshole, his fellow actor is a fat guy with less talent than Kelly Osbourne. Both are gay and I can imagine just how he got the role. Yikes.
The rest of the cast are wonderful people, and of course shoved way in the back with some side roles to play.
Crew technicians are 30 to 40-something men, sleepless, cynic type but awesome people. The working crew (which I am part of) are mostly under 25, rock ‘n roll, so fucking what kind of guys, great gang.
Press is chewing this show up and spitting it out on a dish to serve. Cast of course, says they are wrong but honestly, this show sucks in so many ways, it’s going to have success nowhere but in Antwerp. Sad, but very true.
I got my ass kicked at capoeira last night. Or rather, my face. Twice.
The excercise was doing a full turn, with low body and high kick. Both hands on the floor and heel forward. Everyone thinks they can do a kick until they try. It’s damn near impossible to get it right. The opponent, at the mean time, is suppose to duck and dodge, with his lower arm over the side of his head to deflect if nescessary. You’re supposed to watch your opponent while doing that from under your arm, but often you’re focusing on the correct form so hard that you forget about this completely.
That’s about what happened when it was my turn to dodge. The girl before me did half the turn, showing that she was about to kick, and I ducked, not watching what she was doing. Therefor, I didn’t see that she turned too far, and the foot that was supposed to go up, was right below my face. I took her heel in the chin, and I think I think I said something along the lines of *thud* before I nearly tipped back, trying to stay on my feet. Lots of laughter, including from the capoeido, who happened to be watching. No broken bones there.
You’d think I learn, but hell no. Second time around, with a rather big guy before me, I made the exact same mistake. The difference was, that he didn’t turn far enough, so his heel came down right where the back of my head was. All I got was a bright flash and next thing I remember, I was standing up straight with half the ring (people stand in a circle around the two fighting) coming up to me asking "Are you okay!?" I was confused, I didn’t know what the fuss was about. I knew what had happened, but it hardly hurt and I said, "Sure, whatever. Let’s continue?" It took a while of "Are you sure? Not feeling dizzy?" before we did. The guy later walked up to me and showed a bruise on his heel, quite funny. This is the first time I took a punch at all. I’m just thankful we fight barefoot.
Regardless if they are actually bad people or not, some folks can have a good or bad influence on your life. A teacher you hate might have taught you something important (that’s a rare event but still), and there might be this amazing wonderful person you know that you have the hots for, if she’s married and so are you, you have a problem.
The stronger man sees this and acts accordingly, cutting off bonds with those who might have a bad influence. Sounds antisocial, but it’s a fact. If you’re literally better off without, there is no reason why you shouldn’t. A dumb shit like me, however, first waits a few years, letting any chemical in his body but common sense decide for him, and kind of sways between happy and miserable on that subject.
Point is, I finally cut off connections between me and a few people, and I actually feel liberated. Neither were bad people in any sense, but still, I am glad they’re out of my life. I hope they are happy with whatever they’re doing, but it no longer concerns me. Like a friend said, it’s a weight off your shoulders.
Whatever you’re working on, once in a while you face problems and you ask yourself why you’re doing this in the first place. Although I love my job with all my heart, I get that a lot there. Not long ago I had to break down a "millionaire fair" at the beach. Just a little get-together of Belgium’s richest. Of course, it was made sure that they had a few jaguars for sale there, and Rolex and fucknowswhatelse all had their little booth there, selling shit for dirt. Working there, and actually participating to make this a success, had my nads sucked up my body from beginning to end. I Absolutely, Hate that kind of work. When I get called for such a job and I hang up, I have a sour taste in my mouth that begs to be flushed down with alcohol. It’s a shame I don’t drink.
But then, refusing the job would only make me feel like an idiot. Letting personal values, that you can’t even be 100% sure of, come in the way of living life to the fullest. It’s not like I have more productive things to do behind my computer, do I. But then again, every employee of every single conscience-less multinational company thinks that way. "I’m just doing my job, I’m not responsible for all that." Yet there you have it: it all comes at cost of something. That’s just how it works, and I often feel like shit knowing I am a part of it.