My adventures with Geert.

Apparently I now am in charge of a kitchen, starting up a restaurant with my homie Geert, whom I just met. I somehow thought of keeping track of this insanely new adventure on this old blog of mine, because both Geert and me are fucked in the nut, and starting up a restaurant these days is no childs play, especially not in downtown center of Ghent, post and probably pre -2.0 epidemic and the rising costs of anything gas or energy related. My writing might be lazy at start, but soon I should be able to feed on the drive of working in the kitchen again. Geert doesn’t know he’s fucked in the nut though, but I might slowly massage this fact into his brain in order to make him whole again. He is aware of himself having regular short blackouts though, so that’s a start. It does make me reflect on the idea of him being maître ‘d not being the wisest decision, but he’s the investor so he can do whatever he wants, basically. I’ll try to keep this shit updated regularly, not that it matters I guess. It feels good to have some writing project going on anyway. My apologies to all people swinging by to come for information about their dog having the runs.

All things are on fire

In the end I will always be alone and that is how I feel and that is the way it works  but I don’t want it to work like that and it makes me feel so lonely and where is everybody ? And I hate the fact that people being unable to give me the love I want, somehow has more influence on my well-being than how much I love them, which is terrible for I only want to be what I love and not what loves me. Or, as I believe Heidegger once said, the strongest man is he who walks the earth alone. It won’t be me though. I am weak for I am the lord of the penile snail skywalkers (still doubting weather I should add the accompanying movie).


How Vanessa Paradis used to sing Joe le taxi is the definition of sexy.


“People, even regular people, are never just any one person with one set of attributes. It’s not that simple. We’re all at the mercy of the limbic system, clouds of electricity drifting through the brain. Every man is broken into twenty-four-hour fractions, and then again within those twenty-four hours. It’s a daily pantomime, one man yielding control to the next: a backstage crowded with old hacks clamoring for their turn in the spotlight. Every week, every day. The angry man hands the baton over to the sulking man, and in turn to the sex addict, the introvert, the conversationalist. Every man is a mob, a chain gang of idiots.”

Jonathan Nolan

Okonomiyaki !

I have recently aquired a new item. It probably is by far my most random possession. It is an okonomiyaki. An okonomiyaki is a Japanese omelet/pancake, made of several ingredients varying throughout the several regions in Japan.

This is not just a regular one though. It’s a waxen okonomiyaki. It is an okonomiyaki candle. One can light it on fire if one choses to do so.
I won’t for now. It being Japanese, I have yet to figure out the masturbational use of it. Behold.


I got this particular particularity from a Japanese couchsurfer, a sweet, small girl named Keiko. Age 23, she came to Europe to start a new life as a craftswoman. On her way to Germany, where she intends to embark upon her European quest for happiness, she stopped by in Ghent, my lovely hometown. However, she has no language skills to speak off – Her English is very, very basic at best (Fawlty tower’s Manuel might do as a reference), and she has yet to pick up her first German vocabulary.

I was amazed by the sheer naivety with which she thought to be able to base herself in Germany to start this new life. She literaly said she wasn’t planning on going back to Japan, at least not for the first years. While staying here she got a phone call from her best friend back home, saying she was in total distress because of her pregnancy and the lack of support of her American husband. I don’t know if I got the story right, but on top of that she, her husband ànd her dog were having problems with their knees, and all three had to undergo an operation. Quite peculiar, if you ask me. Makes me wonder about the architectural particularities of the place these people are living. This news made Keiko decide to prematurely give up her European dream and go back to her friend, to deliver the much needed mental and – kneewise – fysical support.

Isn’t that lovely.

Application horrification

In my dream I was passing by a restaurant to ask the owner why he hadn’t replied to my letters of application, even though face to face he had assured me he would do so (this is as far as the reality based story goes). He told me some story about undercover cops coming by his place to inquire about me, but apparently I was suddenly semi-deaf, since I couldn’t hear half of what he was saying, which was very frustrating. Anyway, he suddenly ran inside, locking the front door. Unsatisfied with his answer, I was looking for another way in, finding some lead pipe on the ground. When I started banging a window at the back of the restaurant, 2 guys came out, with the intention of teaching me a lesson. One of them was a midget. He appeared to be the most agressive one. What follows is some sort of riotous walk towards the main square, me constantly keeping the 2 guys at a distance with the lead pipe to avoid getting into a fight. I remember getting inside a café and asking people to call for the police, because they really weren’t backing off.

All of a sudden I do get in a raw fysical fight with the extremely agressive midget and I really beat him half to death. Not just a quarter, not nearly, but half. His lenght asked for that. If you would have beaten him half to death again, he would have been completely dead. Now normaly there is this unwritten law in my dreams (how common these events might seem to some, this really is a dream) that makes it unable for me to hit people, either by fist, hammer, stick or any throwable item that I might lunge at their head, but this time I just beat the shit out of him. I even recall trying to mash his head with my foot while screaming ‘next time I see you around I will pulverize your face you fucking cunt’.

This is where the dream gets really twisted.

I hear police sirens approaching, and while waiting for the trusty troopers to arrive, I start cutting the midget in half. With scissors. From his perineum up to his chin (For the anatomically inept, the perineum is the part between the scrotum/vagina and the asshole). Just like that. However, at some point, seconds before my alarmclock pulls me back into reality, the midget gets up and smacks me on the head. Just like that.

In retrospect I find this very peculiar.

As a little add-on, I would like to add a picture of what a person might look like if scientists were to grow perineal cells into a full grown adult human being. You know they will, eventually.


To maintain some form of natural aesthetic balance, science surely will provide the perineal man with a more eye-soothing attachment.


I want you.

Japan ?

Your ghosts and your ghouls are foreground for a drama unlike any other.

You know me as a word. I know you as a gap in time. And the other, he was merely a windblown speck. It is larger than all of this.

Make no mistake. It has already happened. The storm comes and  with it comes life…

If only it were in your capacity to sense the way I don’t.

I have crushed the lock between us and understanding.



5 min bloodbuzz

And I kept on walking, and I was 6 again, and now I hate what I looked like back then, it were the 80’s right, and I hate young boys and I love to fuck young girls, and they are so in the moment, unaware of their crooked teeth and the way how they talk like instant coffee and god how do I hate myself back then and do I still hate myself back now reflecting on what could have been and why do I get so anxious at times that I find it hard to breathe was what I could say but then again too many people already did but I still find it hard to breathe at times when I look up at the sky OMG it’s so endless, there are no limits, fuck the limits and the boundaries they are all inside my head, and the lack thereof is what frightens me for if there is no line then what shall I cross it is so pointless is it where shall I go now without a goal I just find myself walking wandering wondering what the fuck is happening to me to us to them they who think they are in control of those out of control and the sadness, the sadness comes to life, I breathe life into sadness as it comes, for I laugh but mainly at myself, with myself for I am a comic or so they say, I like to give but I really love to keep, have everything close to me, the girls, the drugs, anything to fill up that all consuming void that I keep referring to as if it was the core of me, the very core, the beginning where it all started and where it will end, in the meantime I will keep on walking, I am hurt, I feel so happy I could cry but then again maybe I am so sad it makes me laugh that all the cats in the world are there for me if only they knew and somebody is right here, right there, looking for me, looking past me, just looking for themself, as if life is just life, just there, just you know.. there.