Author Archives: bicyclemark

Intersecting Lives

(continued from yesterday)

All day and all night I listen to his new album. Waldemar’s voice, guitar, and message destroy me as always. I wanted to be ready when I saw him up on stage today, to sing along, and soak in all the energy his show radiates. I’m not one of those who sings loudly along with very singer you came to see, an obviously repulsive habit some might have. But I love mouthing the words while I dance in my place.. even if they do try and put me in a seat.

The Tropentheater is colonial as hell. It screams world empire, built in that spirit when the Dutch travelled the world stealing resources and trading slaves, like my Portuguese ancestors. That being said, it’s fucking beautiful. And Waldemar didn’t seemed phased by it, his interest lay with the audience, as always.

The band he brought with him was a familiar one at its core. Z?z?, Elias, and the quiet Mozambican whos name escapes me, but who once defended me from the fascist private security of the NJPAC in Newark, they were all as fantastic as ever, and when I appeared backstage, they greeted me with hugs, and remembered our meeting in NYC, over 5 years ago. But the band now consisted of a new guitarist, a Senegalese man who on stage became the crowd favorite, and backstage sat down to converse with me about how he’s about to go on a tour of OZ and NZ with Zap Mama. “Et ?a va avec Zap Mama? Le nouveux cd va bien?” He replied with a very confident, “Mais oui.. tr?s bien.” Together, these artists create an indescribable wall of sound. The kind of wall that is filled with heavenly guitars, make-you-dance cungas, and seductive bass lines, which can teleport you to Luanda for an evening by the sea, watching the fishing boats.

As I walked in the backstage door, ignoring whatever signs telling me not to enter, Waldemar was in mid handshake-hug-signautograph-takephotomode. He wasn’t surprised to see me. He gave me a big smile, bearhug, and demanded the room’s attention, “Vo?es lembrem-se deste jovem?…” (you guys remember this young man? From NJ to Lisbon, and now he lives here!) And a few people came over to greet me, including one of his sons, who I had only spoken on the phone with a few times. This younger version of Waldemar was not only kind, but an excellent story teller, I couldn’t stop listening to him, as he told a story of the family’s first return to Angola since civil war ended. I MUST GO THERE… I kept thinking.

And well.. the rest of this story stays with me… my memory of yet another meeting with both a man and a musician that I admire to no end. Oh, and I’m invited to his house when I arrive in Lisbon this Tuesday. He kept saying “Now I don’t invite just anyone to my house BM! Only those with good hearts, and you’re like family… so please come.”

I will.

Today’s Sounds: Waldemar Bastos – Live in Amsterdam (my mpegs)

Gift from Angola

I was riding home from bowling the other night, as usual my mind racing with all sorts of brilliant and unbrilliant thoughts. Over time, in Amsterdam, one develops this talent to just ride fast as hell, ignore red lights, and weave around traffic and kamikaze pedestrians. Sometimes a person or a car or some random thing catches your attention as you ride, and for those brief moments, you try to soak up the situation before you’ve ridden off.

On that night there were two dark skinned figures trying to cross in front of me. They hesitated, which told me they were from out of town. At that same moment, one of the men looked directly into my eyes. That happens sometimes,you’re riding and someone looks directly into your eyes for a split second. For me, it’s usually a beautiful girl riding in the opposite direction. But in this case the eyes staring at mine were those of a friend. They triggered a rush of mental images; memories. At first it was NYC 1999 and I had stayed late at the knitting factory, hanging in the green room discussing politics with the band. Then I was swept back to 2002, sitting in a tiny restaurant in Lisbon – “Agua do Bengo.”

The owner of this restaurant was the man behind those eyes, at least that’s what I felt in that eternal moment. I swore that I was seeing my friend Waldemar Bastos, beloved Angolan singer who had been exiled to Lisbon during the long civil war in his home country.

I kept riding, looking back the entire time. But I couldn’t see him anymore.. I stopped in hopes that he would be running in my direction, shouting my name. But no dice. I slowly rode in the direction of home, now completely buried in memories of our conversations, the nights where I’d come to the restaurant to help his wife serve dinner, and then after closing they’d cook a special meal for me while Waldemar pulled out the guitar and starting testing new songs on me. One night we sat there til the sun came up, singing together. He even handed me the guitar as said, “go ahead bm, I know you’re musician.” But I know better… I returned his custom acoustic right back to him with a smile.

Here’s where it gets better: This morning I went to do xmas shopping-browsing at a CD shop, and there in the featured artist section – Waldemar Bastos and his new release Renascence, on a DUTCH LABEL! He had told me last year, during our annual phonecall, that he had signed with a Dutch label. Shit with Warner Brothers and David Burn’s Luaka Bop project had gone bad, but now he was back…. in the NETHERLANDS! I just checked the show listings… tomorrow night at the Tropentheatre.. I’m going to see my friend. I sent him a text message with this story. I look forward to the euphoria when he sees me tomorrow, no one will understand the history behind the enormous hug we will share.

(….to be continued.. and in the meantime, go stare at the stars)

Today’s Sounds: Waldemar Bastos – Renascence

Chess and Mat?

Sylkk, another great blogger in black, gmailed me to ask about where I get my mat?, and why hers might be tasting bad. I felt like I was one of those familiar faces in her neighborhood, like the guy at the post office. Plus I was glad she asked; I love my Rosamonte Yerba Mat? and I know where she’s coming from, sometimes it don’t taste right. I can remember brewing a gourd full of Buen Dia, mixed with some ginger root and peppermint, and being in heaven. Old myths say that mat? has some psychotropic, neurowhatsis, halucinasomething effect. If you brew it just right, I think you do get a great feeling. But yeah, some days you put too much or too little love into it, and it tastes like an old shoe. I don’t worry much when that happens, I figure some days LIFE tastes like an old shoe, and you just gotta go with it.

But let’s move on to chess. To be upfront about it, I’m a chess player, though a bit rusty. Shirtsleaves and I used to spend hours on weekends sitting in Lisbon parks and pubs with our chess board. Here in Amsterdam, I slow down on my bike whenever I pass the chesscaf?, just to take a long look at all the matches. So I appreciate those who love the game – including Bobby Fischer, one of the biggest chess champions in history.

However nowadays Fischer finds himself imprisoned by American authorities, in Japan. He was trying to fly back to the states (he is German-American) but was spotted with a revoked passport. Why revoked? Because in 1992, Fischer played a chess match in Yugoslavia (Serbia), which qualified as doing business, and was considered illegal by the US state department. So now he faces trial… for playing world championship chess in a “bad” country.

Now I don’t care much for the political views of the man. Or for his mannerisms or many of his life choices. But as a chess player, I’ve got nothin but respect for him. And as far as these charges go, I think it’s bullshit. We’re talking about chess… remember all those stories of USSR vs. USA chess matches? I just can’t consider it a crime, no matter how much money they make. If anything, the game has historically brought nations together; making them sit at a table across from each other and push little wooden figures while sweating profusely. So on behalf on the communiqu?: FREE BOBBY FISCHER!

Oh and weekend recommendations, the Midnight Mailman continues to bring me fun AND education, and I’m also considering getting out to Kalipornia one day.

Today’s Sounds: Loft405 Podcast – Lemon Jelly

She’s a Smarty

It has been talked about on other blogs and it’s true to some extent: I am surrounded by wonderful women in my life, both online and offline in the ‘dam. Super intelligent, extremely independent, amazingly adventurous, and just plain silly… these are my ladies, my friends, my Amsterdam family.

And so today as I sat in the University of Amsterdam’s super-old-historical-slave-trade room, watching the Scholarly Masseuse graduate(with honors or as the latins say: Cum Loudly) I felt this great sense of pride and awe. My Austrian wonder, who gets credit for saving me from carpal-tunnel. I’ve watched her evolve as a human, as an academic, from when we first sat together in Communicating with European Elvis Impersonators class, to the handing in of her monster thesis on The Foot Fetishes of European Underwater Basketweavers, it’s been so fun to watch and occasionally help out. And so after dinner at the ranch tonight, I’ll be headed to some dark pub, to raise a glass and -who knows- maybe make a speech in her honor.

On my way into the fishtank this morn, the sassy swede and I spent some quality flirting time together. She informed me that there are words in Dutch that crack her up, as they mean something quite different in Swedish. Her favorite: the word for customer- Klant. In her language this means idiot. So everytime she goes into a shop, and sees the desk with the sign marked Klanten Service (Customer Assistance) she starts laughing. I stood there, as the rain poured down, soaking it in: Idiot Service. Ha! She also vaguely referred to the dutch word for kitchen – keuken as meaning something quite vulgar in Swedish. She wouldn’t tell me what, but I kept trying to think of it… “Hey buddy, keuken you!” Or.. “why don’t you go keuken yourself.” hmmm. Time to learn Swedish.

I’m enjoying how Mr. Helpy Chalk is choosing names for his recently fertilized fetus via his blog. I suggested Aristotle… since we haven’t heard of one since… well.. Mr. Onasis. I had no idea that he advocated slavery?! We could even call him Ari, for short. not to be mistaken with the washed up former white house press whore.

Today’s Sounds: Abdullah Ibrahim – No Fear No Die

Politics with a genius

The communiqu? presents: a slightly edited version of an interview with my buddy JP who resides in Lisbon, Portugal, and can out curse a sailor when he wants to.

bicyclemark: Well… first off, welcome to the blog JP…

bicyclemark: So JP… do you recall around the time where you and I became pals… tell the tale for the audience at home….

J.P. : you were starting to work in that piece of shit school, it was around February 2002?

bicyclemark: True true.

J.P. : and, I don’t recall the exact circumstances

bicyclemark: Was it my keen vocabulary and style of clothes that led you to become my friend?

J.P. : that, and your politics, and your naivet?, and you having had dealings with the Cosa Nostra.

bicyclemark: I see. And you live in Lisbon.. a city that will forever own my heart… where people barely find the time, between eating, smoking and coffee, to go to work. Could you sum up, in four words… what its like living there?

J.P. : being buggered by apes covered in shit

bicyclemark: nice While we’re on shit covered apes… any words about the prime minister of portugal who just resigned?

J.P. : no words strong enough were invented for that piece of sewage in walking form

bicyclemark: I see… just one more in this subject area… any predictions for the future of portugal?

J.P. : when you flush the toilet you see and hear the future of Portugal.

bicyclemark: Excellent political analysis. Very late-modern.

bicyclemark: Moving on… I have a few Chinese readers.. and I recall your stories of when you traveled china…. when was that again? and why did you go?

J.P. : vacation, August 1996; Macao, Hong Kong, and Beijing

bicyclemark: I see, and there you traveled by train… what was it again? for how long? And what can you say about the experience?

J.P. : 3 days and nights from Beijing to Canton. It was a unique experience. I felt like a black person must feel in, say, Alentejo (who doesn’t know the language)

(editors note: Alentejo- vast rural area to the south of portugal. where portuguese hicks come from)

(J.P. : note again – many people of African descent travel through Alentejo, but mostly they speak Portuguese)

bicyclemark: I was expecting you to tell me to go to hell and defend your home territory.

J.P. : well, no – there are hicks in Alentejo, but most assfucking male-raping hillbillies that I know of live in Lisbon

bicyclemark: ouch. So back to politics, how bad did this last american election hit you?

J.P. : fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

bicyclemark: I see, so we could say.. not well.

bicyclemark: Hey before we go on… thanks for the Transmetropolitan graphic novels…very thoughtful of you on my bday

J.P. : Spider Jerusalem – a man with political ideas after my own heart

bicyclemark: I think he eats speed for breakfast and shoots people when it pleases him.

J.P. : and throws them turds and dog carcasses; his weapon of choice is lovely: the Bowel Disruptor

bicyclemark: sounds cruel.

bicyclemark: Well mr JP. Time to say thank you.. and well.. end this. Thanks for being on the show.

J.P. : I hope I was as helpful as you thought I might be

Today’s Sounds: Paul Simon – Graceland (now digging through landlord’s CD’s)

Workin Slob

Other bloggers, especially the experienced ones who, for example, appear on television on some show that will never air in Europa, say don’t blog about work. I’ve seen good people get shit from colleagues or even get the ax, because of their blog. But I’m the part-time king, and I heart everyone in my work-life, so I’ll na?vely ignore such good advice, as I always have.

Day 1 of bicyclemark’s academic writing workshop at the U of Amsterdam somehow went off without a hitch. I don’t really know where I could find a hitch in this day and age anyway, so it’s not that big of a surprise. But I did half expect the audience of serious PHD students to start throwing shit midway through the session. I mean, you’ve all seen the way I spell and use comas like they’re going out of style, wouldn’t you throw tomatoes or potatos? But somehow I held on, got lucky, and had a few laughs preaching to the good people about the inexplicable english language that will save them from eternal damnation.

Let me return to my original topic, working in OLD Europe. Assuming the IRS doesn’t know how to read blogs, I’ll tell you that since planting myself on this side of the pond, I have worked such jobs as: English Teacher, English to Portuguese instruction manual translator (what a disaster, I hope no one was hurt), Election Supervisor at a weed convention, Dog-in-heat walker, Academic publications editor, Dutch-english to real-English transcriber, and of course my present job: Fish Tank supervisor. Impressive CV eh? (I hear that booing and it hurts!)

I wanted to say, out of all the jobs I’ve ever worked, this university gig has, by far, the coolest employee field trips ever. You might remember when we visited a national park, or when we painted the town red. Well today, in celebration of everyone-about-to-skip-town december, they took us for high tea. Just around the block from where ladies stand for sale behind glass and under red lights, there we sat in the coolest bakery les Pays-Bas has ever known. Scones, tea, quiche, tea, jam, tea, carrot cake, tea, bon-bons, tea, fruit salad, tea.. man I’ve been peeing every 20 minutes ever since. And as a bonus, I get to hang with my work people, including the dean who always brings out-of-the ordinary conversation topics. Good stuff.

So what gets me is that I worked some gigs in the states, and I neither had this nor ever heard about it. Work events either didn’t exist or seemed totally fake. Hmm.. the only ones I can think of that might rock are those “company bbq’s” people used to talk about. Ooh.. and bowling teams, like Joe-Bob’s Plumbing vs. Guido’s Construction if that counts. I guess it depends, but still – I’ve heard first hand that the scandinavians do it even better. Take notes world; this is how you live!

Today’s Sounds: Mr. Airplane Man (still not sure I like it)