Category Archives: Audio

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Paranoia Will Destroy Ya

Did you feel your freedom threatened today? Did you reach for that ducktape you finally packed away last year? Did you flip on the worthless CNN/FOX/MTVnews to try and hear the reports? Did you call your family members just to tell them: “Did you hear, a plane flew into the White House Airspace.”

Sniff Sniff…. can you smell the bullshit? It’s going to get even more rotten in the coming years, because they’re going to try harder and harder to remind you to be scared, to fear some imaginary enemy, while they benefit in ooooh so many ways.

But I’m accross the pond in Europa. From where I sit, slowly but surely, people realize what a manipulative ruling class they’re living under…. right? I mean, any day now they’re finally going to impeach… congress I mean.. right? (my favorite progressive bumper sticker: Impeach Congress! or… Support your local government, buy a congress person.)

Meanwhile, just to see what the masses are ingesting, I turn on CNN international. Sure enough there’s a commercial for Dassault-Falcon Business Jets, cause they’re the fastest, most fuel efficient jets for your company. I’ll say — I’m gonna go out and start a paper route right now!

PS– In seeking insight from DC bloggers, I noticed the DC metro bloggermap is way out of date. Disappointing. Then I stumbled upon a self-proclaimed Leftist Politics blog in Maryland. Rather dry, but I say RIGHT ON for knowing your cause.

Urban Quagmire

So during my workday I get to bike around town a bit, for lunch or for meetings with key people. Once again, the beauty of life in Amsterdam. HOWEVER, as I was biking back from an appointment today, ahead of me I noticed what looked like a father hitting his child. It was violent, and there was alot of screaming. I immediately decided I was going to stop him, I don’t care if it’s sort of not my business. And as I approached them, I began to notice this childwas being punched, and the child was in fact a woman… and her screams were in English; HELP HELP, SOMEONE HELP, GET THIS MAN OFF OF ME.

So of course, now I’m ready to jump on this guy, I don’t care what the situation is, this aggression will not stand. (as the dude said) At that same moment, an elderly dutch cyclist and a young female dutch cyclist must have decided similar, because we all stopped, shouted, and began approaching the man. He released her, and looked at all of us and said in Dutch — She’s crazy, she was stealing my bike, she’s crazy. To which we all responded, Bullshit — we’re calling the cops, which the dutch girl promptly did. The man tried to act confident and dared us to do it, as if he had nothing to fear. And a split second later he was racing down the street on his bicycle. None of us gave chase.. it was one of those paralyzing moments.

Then it gets weirder, the girl, after thanking us in Slavic-accented English, changes from a crying expression to one of “no.. you know what.. don’t call the police.. I don’t want trouble.” And of course, we don’t listen, and sure enough — she starts running the opposite way down the street.

Picture three strangers. Standing on their bikes, on the side of the road. Trying to make sense of what just happenned and what to do next. The cops wouldn’t come, the girl informed us, claimed there was nothing they could do. The three of us road away together, chit chatting about how we can’t just ride by when someone is getting beaten up. We all agreed, wished each other a good day, and rode off as strangers.

On a more positive note: It’s JB’s birthday, and I can only imagine she, madame L, and the rest of the family/neighbors are celebratin – french countryside style. Happy birthday!

Frisbee Love

I try to keep my daily what I had for breakfast, how I biked to work, and how I smell off of this here blog. Sometimes I get emails from friends saying “I read the blog, but how are you really.” Normally these kind souls care alot… so much so.. they want to know about the bicyclemark heart, and “how I’m doin.”

So this evening, allow me to ignore how completely non-human and rythmless GW Bush looked clapping along to traditional Georgian music (country not the state!), and give you a personal something:

Monday nights have become ultimate frisbee night. Stop that chuckling, because it’s serious business down in the south of amsterdam. I was shocked to find a huge colony of frisbee fanatics who play everyweek and participate in all kinds of local and international tournaments. Yeah— I myself wonder what the hell Im doing there. But then today, in between pretending my legs weren’t sore from last weeks grueling match, I found my inspiration.

She’s cute. Let’s immidiately get that out of the way. I tried not to talk, cause I secretly dream of being considered mysterious. So I stretched, gave a friendly hello to the players I had met before, waited for her to come to me, and looked right into her eyes and slipped right into the mud under me.

OK no, not really. I kept my balance, but I did look deep into those lovely eyes and I said hello, trying not to flinch, cause why lose a second of such beauty. Then I played it cool, lined up near but not too near her, passed to her not too often, and listened with great joy whenever she’d shout my name and name the play she wanted me to run. I was convinced she was only doing this for me. And I was happy.

Anyway the rest is uneventful. On-field crushes are wonderfully perfect, and I can’t wait to see her at the next game. At which time, I hope we get to look at each other alot, chit-chat in Dutch, and run around a muddy field together. Wow – I know — that’s hot!

ps — If she finds this, I’m ruined.

And — this blogger rocks, without fail.

Field of Memories

Its been over 2 years, but I still go back there. The rims are actually in worse shape then they were back then, as if that were possible. Neighbors still walk through on their way home from work or the supermarket. You still have to be careful that the ball doesn’t roll into the street, in the direction of the Dutch marine base. The students still glance your way as they lock their bikes and head inside.

Back in the day, this court was bussling with activity on Thursday evenings or whenever our crew decided it was game time. 5 on 5, full court, half court, 2 on 2, we played it all. Rain… wind.. sun.. rain… rain. We played. It was Sweden vs Germany, Ireland vs. Norway, UK vs. Iceland, and of course, US vs. Canada. Man did we get our asses beat by team Canada. They even showed up in uniforms… we were baffled.

Some traditions never die in international Amsterdam. The pub crawls, the boat rides, the dinner parties, the meetings at Vondelpark. But one tradition that most definitely died after our year graduated, -never again was there a weekly basketball match. Never again was there a crew of people, who no matter how busy, or where their new apartment was, would find their way back to our sacred court for a match.

But I’m a bit like a ghost. I still haunt the court. I still run up and down and curse the wobbly rim, just like old times. People look over at me with blank stares, looking at the guy playing alone. I sometimes think they might be remembering those days as well.