Not For Show

Lately, through technical failure or conscious choice, I’ve been reminded of the fact that not everything is meant to be recorded in audio, text, video, etc. Some things are personal, or to be lived in the moment, without concern for who else I can reproduce it for through whichever of my favorite personal publishing platforms.

You the reader, probably know this. But keep in mind, I’ve been doing this for a number of years, and therefore – it is second nature. Something interesting happens in my daily life, or an interesting story, or an idea… my brain immediately begins to plan the written report, or for the past months — how to do it audio-style.

Don’t get me wrong; blogging, podcasting, it’s in my blood. It flows through me like art for a painter, science for an astronaut, cookies for the monster. I’ve made a personal commitment, to all of you, myself, and the internets as a whole. This commitment holds the internet as the key, the medium, the avenue, for me to reach you, and for you to reach right back. Repeat this experience, be it everyday, or once a week, or whatever. Allow time to pass, experiences, changes… to me, that is how and why blogging works. (ditto for podcasting, plus ad the rich second dimension of sound.)

I digress, the point was… note to self: sometimes it’s good to stop trying to capture everymoment in a timecapsule. Oh, and read lots of FanBoy this week.

Utrecht and Back

It happens few and far between, but I found myself heading out to another fine city in the netherlands, late at night, for a party! A Portuguese party no less, where you can walk around and speak Portuguese to everyone and don’t worry, cause they speak it. At this same party, the Dutch are relegated to a corner where, for once, they are the minority in our republic of Portuguese-Transplanted. If you’re doing any tourism in the Netherlands anytime soon, don’t miss a journey to lovely Utrecht. Much smaller than Amsterdam, but brimming with life and history stuff.

On the train ride home, being prevented from dosing off by the annoying choral group that decided 3am is a good time to rehearse the highest pitch music you can imagine…. I started thinking of impeachment. That’s just what came to mind.

When oh when will there be enough evidence unearthed. Evidence that this government in the White House has deliberately manipulated the public, mismanaged resources, and abused the power of that office. Clinton got a BJ and they almost tore him to shreds, W bombs two countries to the stone age, gets all his old buddies nice government contracts, and takes the country on the modern-day crusades…. isn’t there enough to Bring on the Beef?

1 Year Uncle

Could it possibly have only been one year ago today that my little boy… my little A-Ren came into the world? Was I really sitting here in Amsterdam, staying up all night, waiting to hear word if I had a niece or a nephew?

It’s hard to imagine my family pre-A-Ren. Almost seems as if in every memory I have of the last few years, he’s somehow been pasted in there. Even from this side of the ocean, far away and unable to see him first-hand, I know he’s the pride and joy… the superstar of my family.

And of course, I’m a silly uncle, and I have so much guilt and fear, that living here in the Dam will make me a forgetten uncle. It’s to a point that I write in this blog in hopes that one day, A-Ren who I love so much, will flip through it, and say — “UncleBM, You wrote that about me?”

And I’ll play it cool, cause I want to be the cool uncle, I’ll say — Yeah kid, I did. Now lets get out there on our bikes, I’ve got windmills to show you.

Happy Birthday A-Ren!

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!