Podcasting since 2004; Conversations, conflicts, adventures and monologues from around the world.
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If I was able to steer BigJim’s boat home tonight, I could certainly make this podcast. I suspect I talk too much, so I’ve chosen the correct medium.
64 kbps, 7,200mb, 15min 26sec
Featuring:
I love getting home at 1am and changing the date and time of my blog so that it still takes place yesterday. Apparently I’ve got an obsession with being a daily blogger… even if its only a matter of hours.
So besides a very uncharacteristically long work afternoon, what kept me from getting to the blog until now was none other then mr Waldemar Bastos, my good friend, who performed tonight at the melkweg. Matter of fact.. the Rum he gave me seems to be triggering more spelling mistakes then normal. (spell check to my rescue perhaps) So yes… Cinema gal accompanied me to the show where BigJim also showed up, to enjoy an Angolan singer who they’ve heard me speak so highly of. Whenever sometime mentions him, I’m like a little show off, always adding “he’s my friend.. I’m a friend of the family!” like this tidbit of information will let me into the cool crowd. Hell maybe it will get me laid. (nope) Hmm.. I wonder if the Havana Club is talking. MR Havana are you there?Mr. Rum says:
You bet buddy. Good concert tonight! I was just sitting around backstage waiting for Waldemar to come drink me with the band.. and then you show up. Three years I had to wait for this night, but at least now I get in a blog. Plus yours gets tons of hits lately, probably cause of that damn podcast I keep hearing about. Like crack for the ears they say. Anyway, seemed to me Waldemar was really glad to see you, man… there was so much hugging going on in the green room, it’s like you’re all either family or lovers.
— It’s beyond that Mr Havana… there’s a great bond between me and that man and his band. Unbelievable that we met back in 1998 at the Knitting Factory in NYC, and have now known each other in three different countries in the span of 6 years. Waldemar said it himself tonight (in portuguese of course) “I’ve stopped trying to explain the coincidences in life. What cannot be explained mathematically… I just don’t try. I can only tell you, life is a mystery.” (stop thinking of madonna, it was a heartfelt moment)
Time to stop, plus I’ve got a podcast to do… if I’m sober enough.
Shout out to VC in the 21 century, who’s blog I bombard with comments. And lest we not forget it was recently fencepost’s anniversaire.
Today’s Sounds: Kings of Convenience – Riot on an Empty Street
As if having hundreds of people around the world reading or listening to what you have to share wasn’t enough of an honor. Or the amazing new friends, be they bloggers or readers, that I’ve made. Nevermind the super-kind comments that are left everyday, by so many different people. You’d think that was already overwhelming.. but it has gone beyond that. The tips that have been left in the paypal tip jar couldn’t have come at a better time, to pay the internet publishing bills. The CD from xtx, the letters from my couz, and today… A package from Iraq! I’ll wait while you read that line again…
Chris Missick, a member of the 319th Signal Battalion, stationed in Iraq, send Bicyclemark, a member of the Amsterdam lazy-ex-pat community, a package. Talk about role reversal. As the postalworker handed me the package, I looked at the address and then looked up at him and smiled; “It’s from Iraq,” I said with excitement. “I know” he responded with a look of will you and your plague filled package please leave now. I sniffed the package, which is shaped like a pizza box, for its desert scent; a pizza from Iraq, I kept thinking to myself. The contents of my pizzabox: lots of new music, some music magazines, a copy of a military newspaper (cause Im interested in propaganda), and a still packaged kefeyah.. complete set that would make Yassir Arafat himself envious.
But this stirs up lots of odd feelings. Beyond gratitude. I know Chris because of his blog, a self-described war-blog. Now you may know, I’m a Pacifist with a capital P. I also have a deep distaste for patriotism, nationalism, and all the associated isms. (like Ferris said.. I don’t believe in isms, I prefer to believe in myself)While since my first reading of his blog I realized I don’t agree with most of his political views, especially in terms of Iraq, I did (and still do) admire his passion for writing and describing the world as he sees it. Oh, and we also discovered that we have identical taste in music. (Im so loving these cd’s)And so I ask myself… how ironic is this?Some of these thoughts stem from my viewing of the first half of the STUperbowl last night. Me and BigJim, both jerseans in exile for the long haul, decided to take in some American football, at an expat pub with 1 million screens and 2 million drunks. But I think it was completely ruined for us the moment it began. It was like a giant military parade. Veterans marched on to the field — WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH FOOTBALL? F-16’s flew overhead. Ex-presidents walked onto the field, pretending to still be important. And then to further scare the shit out of me, they beam images of soldiers in Iraq watching the game. One camp ironically titled “camp victory”. Out of the entire pub crowd, a hand full of Americans stood up all solemn and started singing the national anthem and putting their hands over their hearts and giving the room dirty looks. I gotta be honest, this pacifist wanted to throw cups of beer at them like this was a Detroit Pistons game. Interestingly many in the room gave them blank stares or dirty looks right back. One even raised his arm in nazi salut style.
Extreme you think? I don’t really. Its the same formula in a different era maybe for a different goal. They still push a political agenda using patriotism, nationalism, songs, oaths, ceremonies, symbols, etc etc. And I felt especially angry because this is not the United States, and I had hoped this place would be kept free from that which I considered nonsense. I guess you could say I felt (dillusional as always) that my safe-place had been discovered, and these patriotic Americans were going to somehow hurt me.
Anyway, Chris I know you’re out there, and I do so thank you, and consider you a friend. In fact, it is (has always been) a friendship that reminds me people with differences can still learn from each other and get along.
Today’s Sounds: Pinback (my fav so far, thanks Chris!)
3am is a nice hour to finish a podcast. This following a night of Red Light District Soundseeing. No energy left, so nothing left to say except, this one was damn fun. Follow along with the flickr photoshow whenever you hear Jon Stewart.
64kbps, 22min+, 10.5mb
Featuring
Amsterdam life brings weeks like this. Weeks where some of your favorite people and closest friends sail away from unknown periods of time, to go where life takes them. At the international student drink the other night, I wished Toronto’s-finest-chef-in-exile a safe journey back to Ontario, where he will remain for the time being. Vowing, of course, to return to the Amsterdam ex-pat community which knows and loves him…. and his cooking.
And then there was last night… the final night of the inappropriate Brian is going to to New York City goodbye pub marathon. Which consists mostly of pretty ladies, funny Dutch guys, and caf? Cuba.. which should be famous for its tall-ass dutch dudes. This coming from an average tall brotha.
I digress, the inappropriate one is leaving again, and he shall return ever six months, yet still it’s sad. Who else is going to remind me about going out partying, meet the lovely ladies, and recite Eddy Izzard with me? Alas.. thus is Amsterdam life… brothas and sistas come and go, regardless if they’re dutch or just inappropriate. Travel safe my friend… say hi to the tri-state area for me.
The Red-Lightcast… aka.. Red Light Sound Seeing tour is about to begin, as soon as I put my coat and headset on. Hopefully I get offered cocaine and extasy, cause that’s always fun to hear. And maybe a prostitute hanging outside her door will call me baby or honey… I love that too. Is this a good time to say, if she’s reading, “Hi mom”.
Oh.. and I had hot choco with these dude excellent gentlemen bloggers, one of which is yet-another cool expat in Amsterdam. Mr. Waking up in Amsterdam and the Trend Junkie, direct from Baltimore. Our conversations have only just begun, but if you had to drink every time we said blogging or podcasting, you’d be getting your stomach pumped right now.
Today’s Sounds: The Specials – Selftitled.
Do you feel my blog has been stale this week? I do. It’s always a matter of opinion of course, sometimes I write shit I hate, and the people say “hooray.” Other times I write shit I think is fun, and people say nothin. The other thing is that my podcasting has taken center stage in my mind, and blogging has become like the middle child… the jan brady.. of my internet activities. Not sure who the Cindy would be.
But let’s focus on the task at hand. This is intro week for new international students in Amsterdam, and yours truely is the keynote brotha this afternoon. I’ve scribble-typed a speech that I don’t much care for. I never follow what I write anyway, I just say whatever comes to me when I’m on stage. Same thing with my podcasts, I jot some notes, but I still basically make it up as I go along… that’s my WAY.So what would you, gentle reader, say to them? Imagine… a bunch of Spanish-Australian-Thai-Indian-Nigerian-Canadian-Mexican-Americans, who might be studying in another country for the first time ever, what would you tell them?
I know what I’m not going to say. No bullshit about this being the “TIME OF YOUR LIFE” I hate that shit. There are so many GREAT times in one’s life, I hate when they point at the 20 something year old college students and say “enjoy it while it lasts” as if the rest of life is one big drag. If you spend your whole life daydreaming about the good-ol-days when you studied abroad, my advice to you would be to stop everything right now, and make some changes, cause you must be going about it all wrong.
The fact is, most of the shit I can tell them, they have to learn for themselves. I can’t stop everytime I see someone with a map or someone with questions, because I’m not allowing them to grow on their own if I do. It shouldn’t be my job to tell them what to enjoy and how to enjoy it, my job should just be to say hello, offer some little advice about restaurant choice or daytripping (with or without the drugs). Otherwise I should just remain the WATCHER… the scribe… who observes and appreciates, but allows young fish to swim as they wish.
Oh.. and I could definitely recommend REBEL DAD RADIO to them, not to mention remind them about ANTI visiting New York RIGHT NOW.
Today’s Sounds: In Over Your Head Podcast
AudioCommuniqu? #10 (mp3)