7.15 and we're right in the middle of it. A multitude of snot nosed little humans are finding their way to our front door to get their greedy little hands on our fine Belgian chocolates and Jamin sour candy. Peace, tranquility and a wide assortment of Grolsch beverages are my usual companions but tonight is one of the few nights that I keep the dogs inside and leave the porch lights on and the little bastards know it. Just writing these few sentences took a while since every few minutes I have to get up because there's another little creep, dressed up like the devil or Dick Cheney, banging on the door screeching" trick or treat". Our own kids are in on the action and are terrorizing the neighbourhood with fervor. Lord have mercy on the poor granola character that is denying them their loot. Organic fruit is not the God we're worshipping tonight. We want, nay, we need candy and we will not be denied. Halloween. Refreshingly uncomplicated and governed by some very basic principles. No dark political motives or shady little shysters in expensive suits to contend with. God knows we've had more then our fair share of shitheads and hustlers find their way into our fair city lately. But not tonight. Tonight they're hiding in whatever sewer they came out of while the youngsters rule the streets.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Halloween
7.15 and we're right in the middle of it. A multitude of snot nosed little humans are finding their way to our front door to get their greedy little hands on our fine Belgian chocolates and Jamin sour candy. Peace, tranquility and a wide assortment of Grolsch beverages are my usual companions but tonight is one of the few nights that I keep the dogs inside and leave the porch lights on and the little bastards know it. Just writing these few sentences took a while since every few minutes I have to get up because there's another little creep, dressed up like the devil or Dick Cheney, banging on the door screeching" trick or treat". Our own kids are in on the action and are terrorizing the neighbourhood with fervor. Lord have mercy on the poor granola character that is denying them their loot. Organic fruit is not the God we're worshipping tonight. We want, nay, we need candy and we will not be denied. Halloween. Refreshingly uncomplicated and governed by some very basic principles. No dark political motives or shady little shysters in expensive suits to contend with. God knows we've had more then our fair share of shitheads and hustlers find their way into our fair city lately. But not tonight. Tonight they're hiding in whatever sewer they came out of while the youngsters rule the streets.
Friday, August 19, 2011
My son and sensei
Jan, my better half and a committed teacher, sometimes gets a bit flustered when the kids, in her view, are not delivering on the promise that each of them holds. However, as usual, there's another side to the story.
Absolutely, we need to help him along. He needs to improve on his organizational skills, make sure that he completes and hands in his assignments on time and does a better job of paying attention and not provoke his teacher's ire. However knowing him as we do, none of these issues come as a huge surprise. He is a person that appreciates friendship, cordial camaraderie and, in his view, innocent banter. He is still the same boy as he's always been and now we have the obscene duty of teaching him that he must make certain compromises if he wants to fully participate in this society and live a meaningful, rewarding life to be able to enjoy all the comforts that it holds.
Welcome to the machine.
Make no mistake, once he understands what needs to be done and why, and we will succeed in that endeavour because we have no choice, we will see another person emerge. For now, I like him just the way he is. His compassion and care for all living things never seizes to amaze me. He has taught me more regarding the depth of a righteous soul then any other person, past or present and as far as I'm concerned He sits on the right side of God with jesus bringing him warm chocolate milk and chippies. We have to find a way to allow him to continue on his journey and let him become the person that he's meant to be while at the same time acquire the skills and knowledge that will help him along in the future. I know you. I refuse to believe that the end is worth you losing that what makes him so special. The issues involved are manageable, he is doing his best but it needs work, fine tuning so to say. He takes pride in his accomplishments, he loves making you happy when he gets a good mark and he's deeply hurt when, again, in his view we disapprove of him. WE need to learn also and find a way to get through to him without resorting to the usual blame and punish game. He's getting enough unnecessary shit from his sisters without us terrorizing him. He'll be OK, maybe not exactly the way we'd like it to go, but he has all the makings of a good, no, great person. Saskia will be fine and allthough I would have liked a different dynamic guiding her choices, I'm happy for her. Moriah is also coming down the pipe and I'm convinced she'll have a few surprises in store that will have us climbing the proverbial wall. We don't own our kids, they're only with us for a short while. I want to hang on to whatever goodness I can get and let that comfort the rest of my days when they're off on their own.
Absolutely, we need to help him along. He needs to improve on his organizational skills, make sure that he completes and hands in his assignments on time and does a better job of paying attention and not provoke his teacher's ire. However knowing him as we do, none of these issues come as a huge surprise. He is a person that appreciates friendship, cordial camaraderie and, in his view, innocent banter. He is still the same boy as he's always been and now we have the obscene duty of teaching him that he must make certain compromises if he wants to fully participate in this society and live a meaningful, rewarding life to be able to enjoy all the comforts that it holds.
Welcome to the machine.
Make no mistake, once he understands what needs to be done and why, and we will succeed in that endeavour because we have no choice, we will see another person emerge. For now, I like him just the way he is. His compassion and care for all living things never seizes to amaze me. He has taught me more regarding the depth of a righteous soul then any other person, past or present and as far as I'm concerned He sits on the right side of God with jesus bringing him warm chocolate milk and chippies. We have to find a way to allow him to continue on his journey and let him become the person that he's meant to be while at the same time acquire the skills and knowledge that will help him along in the future. I know you. I refuse to believe that the end is worth you losing that what makes him so special. The issues involved are manageable, he is doing his best but it needs work, fine tuning so to say. He takes pride in his accomplishments, he loves making you happy when he gets a good mark and he's deeply hurt when, again, in his view we disapprove of him. WE need to learn also and find a way to get through to him without resorting to the usual blame and punish game. He's getting enough unnecessary shit from his sisters without us terrorizing him. He'll be OK, maybe not exactly the way we'd like it to go, but he has all the makings of a good, no, great person. Saskia will be fine and allthough I would have liked a different dynamic guiding her choices, I'm happy for her. Moriah is also coming down the pipe and I'm convinced she'll have a few surprises in store that will have us climbing the proverbial wall. We don't own our kids, they're only with us for a short while. I want to hang on to whatever goodness I can get and let that comfort the rest of my days when they're off on their own.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Kristy's time has come
Last week I was talking to ............., a regular at Jerry’s, who’s been working for the liberals for years and after a few cold one’s he no longer could help himself but let us in on what was about to happen.I went home, had a few more and wrote this. I liked it better when I wrote it at 2 am but then again, a lot of things make sense at that hour. Anyone else feel that way ? Any way of finding out? Maybe someone with a better grasp of the English language could look it over and put it out there, anywhere . What do you think??
Election time in BC.
Politicians in BC dance to their own little jig and so far we've not been dissapointed. While we’re in the middle of watching Iggie, Jackie and Harpo whooping it up, causing some of us to drink heavily having to put up with their hideous drivel and mind bending false promises, our new premier, Kristy “families first” Clark has decided that this just might be the opportune time to call a by-election . Holy mother of God, is there no limit to what these shady characters will do to get elected? Harassing those who work for a living in Price George, groping old women in Cape Breton and squeezing confused innocent toddlers at a childcare center on the outskirts of Thunderbay is at the order of the day. The federal liberals have us believe that the last 5 years have been a right wing conspiracy characterized by an unrelenting orgy of lust and greed, the Tories are passing themselves off as our saviours, safely guiding the upper and middle classes through a monstrous economic meltdown, full of treachery and imploding pensions while the NDP has a “plan” that has something for everyone, as usual. And if that wasn’t enough now we also have Kristy on our hands. I knew something was up a few days before the announcement was made because the lights were on for a change at Gordy’s place on 4th , just across from Banyen's bookstore. His constituency office, upgraded, or downgraded, depending on how one feels about the recent developments, is on route to Jerry’s, or the “Cove”, as some call it now, a comfortable place for those of us who enjoy a cold beverage or two right after lunch. A visit there is usually an uplifting and spirited affair but having to pass, what is now quickly becoming “Kristy’s headquarters”, has darkened the mood somewhat and ugly rumours are making the rounds. Although it might not seem that way considering the ever increasing frantic dynamic of live on the Westside, and Kitsilano and Point Grey in particular, there’s still a good many of us that enjoy living here. In various degrees we are active within our communities, we don’t give in to Wal-Mart, Home depot or Starbucks and try to shop locally, we participate in community events, Bayview is a “ community” school and contrary to popular belief, so far not to many are card carrying members of the botox/yoga crowd. High ideals, a sense of social justice and environmental awareness without the Big Brother attitude are not just slogans but seem like the right way to go for more than just a few of us. Yes, it makes sense that Gordy, who’s now looking for a way to fade into the background so he can hang out with his own posse on Howe street, should give up his seat. And although I never cranked it up to such a weird level that I could have voted for him, he did for many years represent my neighbourhood, shopped at the same places as I did and on many an occasion you’d see him on Broadway, enjoying a stroll in the sun and talking to people. Yes, I would have liked him better if he had found his way a few time’s to Jerry’s instead of going of his rocker in Hawaii. Ben, Barry or Bruce would have had no trouble shaming him into parting with some of his loot and support our midday boozing adventures but it was not meant to be. Like him or not he was one of us. But now we have to deal with an entirely different animal. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s up to the task. Believe me, anyone wearing the crown in this province has had their fair share of adversity and beastly ball breaking back room treachery. As the good doctor says: ”Getting elected is not about defeating your opponents, it’s about screwing your friends”. But I’m extremely uncomfortable with the whole notion of someone coming into our neighbourhood, babbling about families and communities while she doesn’t have a clue about the concerns that those of us have with regards to what is happening in OUR community. 10 years ago a young person with deep roots in this neighbourhood could still dream about owning a home here, a nightmare scenario nowadays. Our elders, who have lived their entire lives here having to sell because of obscene property tax increases, wild women driving around erratically in their overpriced European hybrids while frantically texting away on their blackberry’s, bright eyed shyster terrorizing our gentle tree lined trees looking for the next hustle, and the list goes on. What comforting words can we expect from you, Kristy? Or will the lights go off once again after you’re done here? Will we see you walking our streets, meeting our neighbours or just hanging out at Angus’s Bakery, having a coffee? Yes, you do volunteer at a community centre around hereand one of your kids is attending school on the West side, like so many others. Why is that by the way? Are the schools in your neck of the woods not up to par? Weren't you.........................................?
Regardless of the way I feel about his policies I was always happy for Gord that he could, and did walk through our and his neighbourhood. It says something about the people that make up this community and we’re all the better for it. Sure we have our fair share of bozo’s but hey, who doesn’t. There are still enough people that care about what’s going on here in our own backyard and are willing to make the effort. I’m sure that your “advisers” have a long list of whoop-ass directives handy to cram down our throats the moment you take your rightful place amongst your own kind in Victoria. Will you do something a bit more substantial besides this silly gibberish about families first, tax breaks for liberal cronies or a few foto ops on Jericho? What about it, eh?
Suspiciously, Willem
Election time in BC.
Politicians in BC dance to their own little jig and so far we've not been dissapointed. While we’re in the middle of watching Iggie, Jackie and Harpo whooping it up, causing some of us to drink heavily having to put up with their hideous drivel and mind bending false promises, our new premier, Kristy “families first” Clark has decided that this just might be the opportune time to call a by-election . Holy mother of God, is there no limit to what these shady characters will do to get elected? Harassing those who work for a living in Price George, groping old women in Cape Breton and squeezing confused innocent toddlers at a childcare center on the outskirts of Thunderbay is at the order of the day. The federal liberals have us believe that the last 5 years have been a right wing conspiracy characterized by an unrelenting orgy of lust and greed, the Tories are passing themselves off as our saviours, safely guiding the upper and middle classes through a monstrous economic meltdown, full of treachery and imploding pensions while the NDP has a “plan” that has something for everyone, as usual. And if that wasn’t enough now we also have Kristy on our hands. I knew something was up a few days before the announcement was made because the lights were on for a change at Gordy’s place on 4th , just across from Banyen's bookstore. His constituency office, upgraded, or downgraded, depending on how one feels about the recent developments, is on route to Jerry’s, or the “Cove”, as some call it now, a comfortable place for those of us who enjoy a cold beverage or two right after lunch. A visit there is usually an uplifting and spirited affair but having to pass, what is now quickly becoming “Kristy’s headquarters”, has darkened the mood somewhat and ugly rumours are making the rounds. Although it might not seem that way considering the ever increasing frantic dynamic of live on the Westside, and Kitsilano and Point Grey in particular, there’s still a good many of us that enjoy living here. In various degrees we are active within our communities, we don’t give in to Wal-Mart, Home depot or Starbucks and try to shop locally, we participate in community events, Bayview is a “ community” school and contrary to popular belief, so far not to many are card carrying members of the botox/yoga crowd. High ideals, a sense of social justice and environmental awareness without the Big Brother attitude are not just slogans but seem like the right way to go for more than just a few of us. Yes, it makes sense that Gordy, who’s now looking for a way to fade into the background so he can hang out with his own posse on Howe street, should give up his seat. And although I never cranked it up to such a weird level that I could have voted for him, he did for many years represent my neighbourhood, shopped at the same places as I did and on many an occasion you’d see him on Broadway, enjoying a stroll in the sun and talking to people. Yes, I would have liked him better if he had found his way a few time’s to Jerry’s instead of going of his rocker in Hawaii. Ben, Barry or Bruce would have had no trouble shaming him into parting with some of his loot and support our midday boozing adventures but it was not meant to be. Like him or not he was one of us. But now we have to deal with an entirely different animal. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s up to the task. Believe me, anyone wearing the crown in this province has had their fair share of adversity and beastly ball breaking back room treachery. As the good doctor says: ”Getting elected is not about defeating your opponents, it’s about screwing your friends”. But I’m extremely uncomfortable with the whole notion of someone coming into our neighbourhood, babbling about families and communities while she doesn’t have a clue about the concerns that those of us have with regards to what is happening in OUR community. 10 years ago a young person with deep roots in this neighbourhood could still dream about owning a home here, a nightmare scenario nowadays. Our elders, who have lived their entire lives here having to sell because of obscene property tax increases, wild women driving around erratically in their overpriced European hybrids while frantically texting away on their blackberry’s, bright eyed shyster terrorizing our gentle tree lined trees looking for the next hustle, and the list goes on. What comforting words can we expect from you, Kristy? Or will the lights go off once again after you’re done here? Will we see you walking our streets, meeting our neighbours or just hanging out at Angus’s Bakery, having a coffee? Yes, you do volunteer at a community centre around hereand one of your kids is attending school on the West side, like so many others. Why is that by the way? Are the schools in your neck of the woods not up to par? Weren't you.........................................?
Regardless of the way I feel about his policies I was always happy for Gord that he could, and did walk through our and his neighbourhood. It says something about the people that make up this community and we’re all the better for it. Sure we have our fair share of bozo’s but hey, who doesn’t. There are still enough people that care about what’s going on here in our own backyard and are willing to make the effort. I’m sure that your “advisers” have a long list of whoop-ass directives handy to cram down our throats the moment you take your rightful place amongst your own kind in Victoria. Will you do something a bit more substantial besides this silly gibberish about families first, tax breaks for liberal cronies or a few foto ops on Jericho? What about it, eh?
Suspiciously, Willem
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Remembrance
Remembrance day.
While I'm sitting at the Legion, sharing a few cold beverages with the man and women that were honored today for the sacrifices they and their mates made, my best friend is running around to find the best deal on plastic flowers. I'm stumped by the realities of my day to day existence in our ever faster moving city where respect and honor are quickly becoming empty words only to be used by cheap hustlers, slick shysters and the 6 o'clock news. Money and self gratification NOW seems to be the altar where we worship.
My parents simple pleasures and strict adherence to old traditions used to be a constant source of aggrevation and dismay. However now that it's my turn to add my voice to shaping my kids future I find myself more and more looking at what sustained their world and grudgingly admit that truth has many different faces.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
musings
Friday evening.
Jan is out with Andy, a geriatric hobo from the Charlottes, one of her truest friends and yes, a real gentleman. Josiah and Moriah are showing their cousins how to build a fort in mom and pap's bedroom while our oldest daughter is catching up on the latest HD garbage that is finding it's way into our humble abode via a 42 " screen.
Our seemingly endless Vancouver summer is finally coming to an end, the kids and Janny are off to school next week and I will try to stay out of any serious trouble by attempting to stay gainfully employed for at least 3 days a week.
It's been 2 weeks since I left "the old country" but I'm still stumped by all that happened while I was there.
Tearing through the narrow back alley's of Amsterdam in a little hot rod Lancia I finally ended up in front of Manja's place, a rustic
I got out not sure what to expect.
Questions running amok in my head. Why was my old pal hiding out in a little no name
There's no beginning and there's certainly no end to this thing so far
How and why does a heart know what a brain refuses to recognize
Why are we not answering the emotional call more often
A song, listened to under the right circumstances can create the right conditions to do the right thing. how do I lash all this gibberish together?
A fine little ditty by the Stories to keep me company and a cold Grolsch to ward off the stifling 20 degree BC heat.
Waiting for the right moment to make some sense of it all
Amsterdam - Enschede a mere 160 km and not much of a challenge for this hideous little monster that the friendly folks at Hertz had set aside for the odd but friendly expatriate that spoke Dutch with a funny twinge. It's been decades since I sat behind the wheel of a sleek little Italian hot rod. Traffic started to ease up around Amersfoort and by the time we got to Apeldoorn everyone on the road ignored the speed signs and settled in for some high speed acrobatics. Trucks were thundering along at around 130 km/per hour except for the Polish, Czechs and Lithuanians. 40 Years of borscht, rubles and cheap vodka will do that to a person and a unrelenting distrust of the" Man" cannot be wiped out by 15 years of French fries, euros and cheap whiskey. However the Germans and the Dutch never had to put up with such challenges and low expectations and as far as they are concerned the right lane is for the elderly, wimps, and other simple minded rabble and the left lane is reserved for cops, criminals, cheap hustlers and speed freaks. Only 80 clicks to the border now and the bold and the rash are running the show scaring the shit out of anyone who's so unfortunate as to be driving an outdated skoda or just taking mom and the kiddies out to enjoy a bit of country side. About 10 minutes ago I was cruising along at a gentle speed of 140 km p/h, passing a column of trucks when I was rudely awakened by a road Nazi, driving a poor man's Mercedes , who was using his high beams to show his displeasure at finding an obstacle in the left lane. True to fine European driving etiquette he kept at least 10 feet of safe distance between his front bumper and my middle finger prominently sticking out the drivers side window. After passing several trucks I moved over into the right lane and not before long Heinz and his lovely wife were beside us. The fact that we were now cruising along at 180 clicks was not much of a concern to me but Heinz seemed to have some kind of issue with his better half. Shifting DOWN did not put his frayed nerves at ease considering I pushed the pedal to the metal on my little rental. Hitting 210 he packed it in and faced up to the fact that he was just another shithead in the fast lane to nowhere. I'm not quite sure where I packed it in but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't that far behind Heinz .
Jan is out with Andy, a geriatric hobo from the Charlottes, one of her truest friends and yes, a real gentleman. Josiah and Moriah are showing their cousins how to build a fort in mom and pap's bedroom while our oldest daughter is catching up on the latest HD garbage that is finding it's way into our humble abode via a 42 " screen.
Our seemingly endless Vancouver summer is finally coming to an end, the kids and Janny are off to school next week and I will try to stay out of any serious trouble by attempting to stay gainfully employed for at least 3 days a week.
It's been 2 weeks since I left "the old country" but I'm still stumped by all that happened while I was there.
Tearing through the narrow back alley's of Amsterdam in a little hot rod Lancia I finally ended up in front of Manja's place, a rustic
I got out not sure what to expect.
Questions running amok in my head. Why was my old pal hiding out in a little no name
There's no beginning and there's certainly no end to this thing so far
How and why does a heart know what a brain refuses to recognize
Why are we not answering the emotional call more often
A song, listened to under the right circumstances can create the right conditions to do the right thing. how do I lash all this gibberish together?
A fine little ditty by the Stories to keep me company and a cold Grolsch to ward off the stifling 20 degree BC heat.
Waiting for the right moment to make some sense of it all
Amsterdam - Enschede a mere 160 km and not much of a challenge for this hideous little monster that the friendly folks at Hertz had set aside for the odd but friendly expatriate that spoke Dutch with a funny twinge. It's been decades since I sat behind the wheel of a sleek little Italian hot rod. Traffic started to ease up around Amersfoort and by the time we got to Apeldoorn everyone on the road ignored the speed signs and settled in for some high speed acrobatics. Trucks were thundering along at around 130 km/per hour except for the Polish, Czechs and Lithuanians. 40 Years of borscht, rubles and cheap vodka will do that to a person and a unrelenting distrust of the" Man" cannot be wiped out by 15 years of French fries, euros and cheap whiskey. However the Germans and the Dutch never had to put up with such challenges and low expectations and as far as they are concerned the right lane is for the elderly, wimps, and other simple minded rabble and the left lane is reserved for cops, criminals, cheap hustlers and speed freaks. Only 80 clicks to the border now and the bold and the rash are running the show scaring the shit out of anyone who's so unfortunate as to be driving an outdated skoda or just taking mom and the kiddies out to enjoy a bit of country side. About 10 minutes ago I was cruising along at a gentle speed of 140 km p/h, passing a column of trucks when I was rudely awakened by a road Nazi, driving a poor man's Mercedes , who was using his high beams to show his displeasure at finding an obstacle in the left lane. True to fine European driving etiquette he kept at least 10 feet of safe distance between his front bumper and my middle finger prominently sticking out the drivers side window. After passing several trucks I moved over into the right lane and not before long Heinz and his lovely wife were beside us. The fact that we were now cruising along at 180 clicks was not much of a concern to me but Heinz seemed to have some kind of issue with his better half. Shifting DOWN did not put his frayed nerves at ease considering I pushed the pedal to the metal on my little rental. Hitting 210 he packed it in and faced up to the fact that he was just another shithead in the fast lane to nowhere. I'm not quite sure where I packed it in but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't that far behind Heinz .
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Friend
Dear .....................
Time waits on no one. Please forgive for writing in English . I'm so used to having the comfort of a laptop, with spell checker, that the combination of writing by hand and in Dutch will surely corroborate the wide held notion that the academic and literary standards on this side of the pond are on a very slippery slope indeed.
A lifetime, so it seems, has passed since I drove up your driveway as an impudent long haired youngster to corrupt your innocent boy with exotic tales of controlled mayhem, strange customs and fair maidens. In many ways your home, and the people in it, have had a profound influence on my journey, and continue to do so. My friendship with Jan Willem and the values that sustained it, has been a blessing during the darkest stages of a road less traveled. Back in the day a lot of people would shake their head in fear and loathing when the two of us were roaming the gentle villages of our past on the prowl for another worthy deed. However they failed to see that we were brothers in the best sense of the word. Consideration, compassion and loyalty cannot be given , we bestowed it generously onto each other through shared pain, heart breaking beauty and hysterical weirdness. To meet him again this summer and see for myself that he has found a measure of peace and comfort has allowed me to put things to rest knowing that he's doing so well
It was also wonderful to see you again. I'm glad you liked the flowers, my daughter is quiet pleased with herself since it took her the better part of an hour to come back with the appropriate choice while I was enjoying a cappuccino. Growing up as an only child with quiet parents has produced a habit where I try to steal a quiet moment here and there when circumstances allow it. For the last 10 years I've made my home in Vancouver, on the Western edge of Canada, surrounded by 3 children, Saskia, Josiah and Moriah, 2 dogs, Jordie and Dexter, a hamster, a goldfish, a skunk that lives under the walkway, 3 raccoons that love our grapevine and a multitude of native artists, dockworkers, writers, misfits and other degenerates that consider themselves my friends. Ruling this fine crowd is my partner Janice who has been my steady companion the last 25 years. My mother kisses the ground she walks on, since she credits her with saving her little boy.
The dynamic of North American society tends to give credibility to the rumor that money is the altar where most Americans and Canadians worship however I've had the good fortune to grow into adulthood with your son who not only had impeccable taste when it came to controlled mayhem but who also had a keen eye for cultural and historical events. The monasteries of Meteora, a foggy sunrise on the Matterhorn or the flowers on the banks of Ohrid were as much part of our reality as were the beaches of Greece and the hedonistic peculiarities of its residents.
Now that my children are getting a bit older and I'm getting a sense of what kind of persons they are in the process of becoming I feel blessed that I was so fortunate to be exposed to those who inspired me to look further and beyond . Yes, life has been very good to me and for whatever mysterious reason continues to do so allthough once in a while I can't help myself and give in to the dark side to firmly shake the tree of life to see what else is hiding up there.
Be well, Peace and Light,
Willem
Time waits on no one. Please forgive for writing in English . I'm so used to having the comfort of a laptop, with spell checker, that the combination of writing by hand and in Dutch will surely corroborate the wide held notion that the academic and literary standards on this side of the pond are on a very slippery slope indeed.
A lifetime, so it seems, has passed since I drove up your driveway as an impudent long haired youngster to corrupt your innocent boy with exotic tales of controlled mayhem, strange customs and fair maidens. In many ways your home, and the people in it, have had a profound influence on my journey, and continue to do so. My friendship with Jan Willem and the values that sustained it, has been a blessing during the darkest stages of a road less traveled. Back in the day a lot of people would shake their head in fear and loathing when the two of us were roaming the gentle villages of our past on the prowl for another worthy deed. However they failed to see that we were brothers in the best sense of the word. Consideration, compassion and loyalty cannot be given , we bestowed it generously onto each other through shared pain, heart breaking beauty and hysterical weirdness. To meet him again this summer and see for myself that he has found a measure of peace and comfort has allowed me to put things to rest knowing that he's doing so well
It was also wonderful to see you again. I'm glad you liked the flowers, my daughter is quiet pleased with herself since it took her the better part of an hour to come back with the appropriate choice while I was enjoying a cappuccino. Growing up as an only child with quiet parents has produced a habit where I try to steal a quiet moment here and there when circumstances allow it. For the last 10 years I've made my home in Vancouver, on the Western edge of Canada, surrounded by 3 children, Saskia, Josiah and Moriah, 2 dogs, Jordie and Dexter, a hamster, a goldfish, a skunk that lives under the walkway, 3 raccoons that love our grapevine and a multitude of native artists, dockworkers, writers, misfits and other degenerates that consider themselves my friends. Ruling this fine crowd is my partner Janice who has been my steady companion the last 25 years. My mother kisses the ground she walks on, since she credits her with saving her little boy.
The dynamic of North American society tends to give credibility to the rumor that money is the altar where most Americans and Canadians worship however I've had the good fortune to grow into adulthood with your son who not only had impeccable taste when it came to controlled mayhem but who also had a keen eye for cultural and historical events. The monasteries of Meteora, a foggy sunrise on the Matterhorn or the flowers on the banks of Ohrid were as much part of our reality as were the beaches of Greece and the hedonistic peculiarities of its residents.
Now that my children are getting a bit older and I'm getting a sense of what kind of persons they are in the process of becoming I feel blessed that I was so fortunate to be exposed to those who inspired me to look further and beyond . Yes, life has been very good to me and for whatever mysterious reason continues to do so allthough once in a while I can't help myself and give in to the dark side to firmly shake the tree of life to see what else is hiding up there.
Be well, Peace and Light,
Willem
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Howdy neighbour
Karma. Dr. Prick explains it away as works or destiny. 1948 was not a banner year for the new age movement. A quick peek in the family dictionary has karma between kaput , used up or gone bad, and katzenjammer ,hangover , two words I'm oddly enough quiet familiar with. "One's destiny as determined by conduct". Holy crap, I'm not quiet sure what to make of that. The conduct part is disconcerting, almost intimidating. It never dawned on me that there could be a downside to this friendly harbinger of occidental truth. And why are my eyes fixed on kaput and not on kapok, kayak or karate? Karma perhaps?
Our fair city has experienced some dramatic changes over the last decade. Olympic fever, rampant homelessness, berserk politicians and shameless developers have set the pace and the future is uncertain. During the last 5 years real estate prices have gone through the roof and a lot of people on the west side of Vancouver have joined the ranks of the nouveau riche. The older residents of this former predominant Greek enclave have taken the whole thing in stride but a large percentage of the upward mobile crowd have no such reservations and have a pressing need to be recognized for their astute investment strategy and dumb luck.............. Welcome to the home of dog walkers, personal trainers, yoga classes, Filipino nannies and $6.00 frappochinos where gangs of soccer moms terrorize our gentle tree lined streets in their overpriced European hybrids, driving around erratically like blind hustlers, giddily jabbering away on their purple blackberries while little Billy and his sister are desperately trying to cross the road to get to school on time. No wonder Billy and his older brother Max roam the streets and alley's after dark, spray painting everything in sight, marking their territory with elaborate etchings like the one on Samantha's moms Audi Q7. Strangers weep when they stop and stare at the carnage, wondering what the hell is going on . But not me. I understand these things. Instead of waiting patiently for a prime parking spot in full view of Starbucks, she now prefers to park behind the friendly local tattoo parlor across the road. A pity really because I'm sure I'm not the only one to admire Max's keen eye for detail and little Billy' psychedelic color schemes
Vancouver did not escape the economic downturn brought on by Wall streets financial meltdown however the property market has done remarkably well and homes are still selling at a premium. The construction boom that had Vancouver in it's greedy claws has gone bust but the renovation racket, a business of particular interest to me, is showing no signs of biting the bullet . It has allowed me the little comforts and small luxuries a man needs to get himself into trouble. Meetings are my forte but do not always go my way when I'm confronted with outlandish expectations, cheap ersatz beer and cheaper clients.
This mornings little gathering was a shining example of the yahoos that sometimes get their filthy gritty hands on my phone number. It didn't take long to figure out that they were after a free consultation and that their dream project was on a fast track to nowhere. A classic case of someone who wants to drive a porche but is only willing to pay for a second hand Volkswagen. (What is it with these people? What motivates them to renounce propriety with such recklessness, why are they allowed to prosper and propagate and who is their leader?)We used to be neighbours and got along agreeably. However from the moment they received an obscene amount of cash for their hovel and moved into a shack with a "better" address our cordial relationship has been on a slippery slope. They finally had "come home" and it was time to abandon ship, out with the old and in with the new and make a fresh start with the other members of the "community" they were so eager to join. The wave of the future so to speak, a bunch of hacks and sodomites that have little to offer and nothing to contribute, so cheap and useless that they don't even comprehend their own freakishly frightening downward spiral into Ken and Barbie's world. They had brought along the latest edition of New Homes, a monthly magazine solely concerned with luxury residences, the newest must have gadgets and Martha Stewart's latest drivel. Bad taste and dumb money, brutal but very lucrative when approached the right way.
Paul's irrational fear of his wife was always a fine source of contemplation that used to perk me up whenever I was on the wrong side of Jan's very, very sharp stick. Schadenfreude in it's purest form and the reason why I had a soft spot for the pathetic sod and agreed to meet with him and his wife.
Nick, who lives across the alley, drags Paul to the bar now and then. He has a deeper understanding of the dynamic of Paul's brutal domestic reality, cooped up at home with a vicious hag and no relief in sight. I see them sometimes at the local watering hole but usually don't bother. Paul can be a real downer and I prefer my regular spot, a strategic location, halfway between the entrance and emergency exit with an excellent view of all the action, right at the bar amidst all the junkies, misfits and degenerates that consider themselves my friends. However when the two of them rolled in the other day I strolled over and shamed Paul into buying the next round since I was low on funds. I joined them for a few minutes, long enough to bend the conversation sideways and give them something to chew on. When I got up, Paul seemed flustered and agitated while Nick kept himself extremely busy with his blackberry, tying his shoelaces while trying to get on top of a hideous coughing fit. Worried it was something contagious I quickly refilled my glass from the almost empty pitcher on the table and returned to the bar. About 5 minutes later I noticed Paul staggering of towards the door while my British friend was working his way through the crowd towards the bar. He ordered another pitcher of beer, filled my glass, then filled his own, looked up and said: " Why do you always have to refer to his wife as the onion"? Since Nick and I share a passion for Balvenie and he is in the enviable position of collecting a very generous monthly check I took the liberty of ordering each of us a double, no ice, his tab, before answering. "Well Nick, uhm, yes, sorry old chap, think nothing of it, it's my upbringing I'm afraid, nice girl, strong teeth, kids seem a bit off though especially that little shit Samantha, don't you think? My dogs go berserk whenever they get a whiff of her and my boy tells me she has hygienic issues. Yes, the mom, right. Wouldn't you cry if you had to wake up next to that every morning?". He looked at me stunned, probably admiring the simple logic behind an odious fact. Kyle, the bartender, interpreted his dumbfounded expression as a sure sign that another round of beverages was in order and I wasn't going to argue.
But I digress, where were we?
About 10 minutes into our little get together I couldn't stand it any longer and told Paul that his time was up and unless he was willing to hand over a certified blank check, put a leash on the motor mouth sitting next to him, things were just not going to work out. Before they had recuperated from this sudden brutal turn of events I managed to finish the crap they had the audacity to serve, pulled out a fattie and used my trusted Zippo to enjoy its soothing qualities before bidding them adieu. It's doubtful that they will be bothering me again anytime soon.
Our fair city has experienced some dramatic changes over the last decade. Olympic fever, rampant homelessness, berserk politicians and shameless developers have set the pace and the future is uncertain. During the last 5 years real estate prices have gone through the roof and a lot of people on the west side of Vancouver have joined the ranks of the nouveau riche. The older residents of this former predominant Greek enclave have taken the whole thing in stride but a large percentage of the upward mobile crowd have no such reservations and have a pressing need to be recognized for their astute investment strategy and dumb luck.............. Welcome to the home of dog walkers, personal trainers, yoga classes, Filipino nannies and $6.00 frappochinos where gangs of soccer moms terrorize our gentle tree lined streets in their overpriced European hybrids, driving around erratically like blind hustlers, giddily jabbering away on their purple blackberries while little Billy and his sister are desperately trying to cross the road to get to school on time. No wonder Billy and his older brother Max roam the streets and alley's after dark, spray painting everything in sight, marking their territory with elaborate etchings like the one on Samantha's moms Audi Q7. Strangers weep when they stop and stare at the carnage, wondering what the hell is going on . But not me. I understand these things. Instead of waiting patiently for a prime parking spot in full view of Starbucks, she now prefers to park behind the friendly local tattoo parlor across the road. A pity really because I'm sure I'm not the only one to admire Max's keen eye for detail and little Billy' psychedelic color schemes
Vancouver did not escape the economic downturn brought on by Wall streets financial meltdown however the property market has done remarkably well and homes are still selling at a premium. The construction boom that had Vancouver in it's greedy claws has gone bust but the renovation racket, a business of particular interest to me, is showing no signs of biting the bullet . It has allowed me the little comforts and small luxuries a man needs to get himself into trouble. Meetings are my forte but do not always go my way when I'm confronted with outlandish expectations, cheap ersatz beer and cheaper clients.
This mornings little gathering was a shining example of the yahoos that sometimes get their filthy gritty hands on my phone number. It didn't take long to figure out that they were after a free consultation and that their dream project was on a fast track to nowhere. A classic case of someone who wants to drive a porche but is only willing to pay for a second hand Volkswagen. (What is it with these people? What motivates them to renounce propriety with such recklessness, why are they allowed to prosper and propagate and who is their leader?)We used to be neighbours and got along agreeably. However from the moment they received an obscene amount of cash for their hovel and moved into a shack with a "better" address our cordial relationship has been on a slippery slope. They finally had "come home" and it was time to abandon ship, out with the old and in with the new and make a fresh start with the other members of the "community" they were so eager to join. The wave of the future so to speak, a bunch of hacks and sodomites that have little to offer and nothing to contribute, so cheap and useless that they don't even comprehend their own freakishly frightening downward spiral into Ken and Barbie's world. They had brought along the latest edition of New Homes, a monthly magazine solely concerned with luxury residences, the newest must have gadgets and Martha Stewart's latest drivel. Bad taste and dumb money, brutal but very lucrative when approached the right way.
Paul's irrational fear of his wife was always a fine source of contemplation that used to perk me up whenever I was on the wrong side of Jan's very, very sharp stick. Schadenfreude in it's purest form and the reason why I had a soft spot for the pathetic sod and agreed to meet with him and his wife.
Nick, who lives across the alley, drags Paul to the bar now and then. He has a deeper understanding of the dynamic of Paul's brutal domestic reality, cooped up at home with a vicious hag and no relief in sight. I see them sometimes at the local watering hole but usually don't bother. Paul can be a real downer and I prefer my regular spot, a strategic location, halfway between the entrance and emergency exit with an excellent view of all the action, right at the bar amidst all the junkies, misfits and degenerates that consider themselves my friends. However when the two of them rolled in the other day I strolled over and shamed Paul into buying the next round since I was low on funds. I joined them for a few minutes, long enough to bend the conversation sideways and give them something to chew on. When I got up, Paul seemed flustered and agitated while Nick kept himself extremely busy with his blackberry, tying his shoelaces while trying to get on top of a hideous coughing fit. Worried it was something contagious I quickly refilled my glass from the almost empty pitcher on the table and returned to the bar. About 5 minutes later I noticed Paul staggering of towards the door while my British friend was working his way through the crowd towards the bar. He ordered another pitcher of beer, filled my glass, then filled his own, looked up and said: " Why do you always have to refer to his wife as the onion"? Since Nick and I share a passion for Balvenie and he is in the enviable position of collecting a very generous monthly check I took the liberty of ordering each of us a double, no ice, his tab, before answering. "Well Nick, uhm, yes, sorry old chap, think nothing of it, it's my upbringing I'm afraid, nice girl, strong teeth, kids seem a bit off though especially that little shit Samantha, don't you think? My dogs go berserk whenever they get a whiff of her and my boy tells me she has hygienic issues. Yes, the mom, right. Wouldn't you cry if you had to wake up next to that every morning?". He looked at me stunned, probably admiring the simple logic behind an odious fact. Kyle, the bartender, interpreted his dumbfounded expression as a sure sign that another round of beverages was in order and I wasn't going to argue.
But I digress, where were we?
About 10 minutes into our little get together I couldn't stand it any longer and told Paul that his time was up and unless he was willing to hand over a certified blank check, put a leash on the motor mouth sitting next to him, things were just not going to work out. Before they had recuperated from this sudden brutal turn of events I managed to finish the crap they had the audacity to serve, pulled out a fattie and used my trusted Zippo to enjoy its soothing qualities before bidding them adieu. It's doubtful that they will be bothering me again anytime soon.
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