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Oude Koeien Uit de Sloot Halen

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Oct. 11th, 2004 @ 09:34 pm
Lycos.nl just took the entire contents of my Sophie Maartens inbox and threw it out of the window. In elegant English that defenestrated it. They realised their mistake and sent me an e-mail to apologise - they had confused my account with one that had not been logged into for six months.

I think they are trying to tell me something. Perhaps to do a thing or don't at all.

Sep. 13th, 2004 @ 09:09 pm


Today was something else.

Had only just risen and the phone rang, it was *Inka. She said, I'm downstairs, can I come see you? Unusual, 'cause she was to be at work today, I buzzered her up.

She was soaked through and shivery, had been out in the rain without a coat. When she hugged me it was briefer than normal and not just with that she didn't want to get me wet. I don't know how I guess this.

I asked her what was up straight out, *Inka said she had been out of the house since 6 and didn't want to go to work. I took her trousers and top to hang and dry, she said Is your bed still warm? and got straight in. It's a foldaway bed and I don't always compact it until I've had my coffee and suchlike. Okay.

Was going to make her porridge in the microwave but remembered she is Danish so did it properly in the pan. She was not speaking much, my ever-speaking friend, made me a little tense and worried for her. When she had finished her breakfast I asked her again and she looked at me like I wouldn't understand. I felt a little offended, because usually we talk, and I'm not a child.

She asked me for a pencil and some paper, I gave her a notepad as if she was somehow going to write me a note, but she wanted to draw. With my sketchpad she turned away.

I had my shower and washed up in the kitchen, checked my e-mails and wrote a cheque for a utility bill and enveloped it. Then *Inka called me over to see what she had done.

She showed me the sheet of paper, was a drawing of a big rabbit, like a doll that a kid would carry about. The big rabbit was clasping to it a little girl, who in comparison was the size of a toy. The rabbit's eyes were closed tight in the sensation of hugging and holding the little girl as its doll. The drawing was crudely and quickly done, I guess, but you could see the girl's eyes were wide-open and perhaps frightened. Even though everything else in the picture was a sketch you could see the little girl had *Inka's eyes.

We held each other then for a long time until *Inka slept. When she woke she was much brighter and so was the sky and we went out and sat in a cafe and watched on the little television over the counter a man dressed as Batman who had climbed up Buckingham Palace.


Aug. 30th, 2004 @ 09:35 pm

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Adam and Eve, 1931

"... the male model who posed as Adam was a policeman whom De Lempicka had approached in the street while he was on his beat. Many years later, she still remembered him carefully folding his uniform and placing it on a chair with his pistol on top."
From Alain Blondel's introduction to the RA exhibition catalogue.

Quelle drageuse!

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Aug. 30th, 2004 @ 08:57 pm


I'm hardly ever here.

About the second week I succeeded in having my parents become worried about me. I felt like a child again, how they called me down 'cause they invited, get this, the ex-boyfriend of the ex-girlfriend of my ex-boyfriend around that evening. This is what I suffer for a father like mine. I wish sometimes they'd had a son, and another daughter, and didn't need to fill their kitchen with random young people. They should grow out of that. I won't be introducing a boyfriend to them again if they carry on like this.

If I carry on like this.

We had a little argument over my old apartment and that they were replacing some of the furniture. Just memories. Could hardly say 'No! You can't give that piece to the hostel, I had good sex on it!' I hope the homeless have a good time with it.

I met with *Tat, to catch up and so forth. She's big into the jewellery design trade now, and we all used to make phone of her work. Good for her. I told her about the *Gio thing and she said would be better for my self-respect if I stopped it with him. Was like a slap, but right. *Tat does not say things easily.

Fine, I've just got to see him again for that to happen. She was surprised at me getting to this situation, and that makes me feel better. 'cause it means it's not naturally me. Even when I've been going out with the 'wrong' guys they've been right for me. I've had men who were already in a relationship, one who was gay but could still just do it with me, one who was too young, another too old but quite immature. Lots of wrongs, but they were good. Or at the least served purpose.

For company though I'm beginning to appreciate people again. I've been so very dull recently that I'm surprised they receive my company, but they do and I grow because of it.

While I was on holiday I did some lake swimming. It's the best, no chlorine or salt. True water, it feels a betrayal to shower afterwards, I'd rather keep the greenish feeling.

Outside now are children with whistles, it sounds if the street is full of maniac little football referees.


Tamara De Lempicka, II Aug. 12th, 2004 @ 08:00 pm

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Rhythm, 1924

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Other entries
» DripDry

My face is raised to you but you turn me around and down
I'm in your vice and clamped
Now it's over and you hang me up to dry
Drip dry

» Tamara De Lempicka 1
So, on the weekend I went to see the exhibition of Tamara De Lempicka at the Royal Academy, Piccadilly, London. Was stunning. I bought the catalogue, I had to!


Click on the picture and make it grow (opens in another window)!


La Belle Rafaela, 1927
The model for this picture was approached by De Lempicka in the Bois de Boulogne. As the artist tells it:
'She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen - huge black eyes, beautiful sensuous mouth, beautiful body. I stop her and say to her, "Mademoiselle, I'm a painter, and I would like you to pose for me. Would you do this?" She says, "Yes, why not?" And I say, "Yes, come. My car is here." '

Well, I'd hop in - wouldn't you?
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» (No Subject)


On Saturday night I went to that party with *Benny. Took me out of myself. Was necessary for me right now.

Big house in the suburbs, covered in ivy that makes you think it would be warm inside all the year. All the other houses stank of the new money. You could smell the roubles and dollars alll the way, tall walls and fences and security cameras, lines of garage doors. Athens columns for doorways, even. But the house the party was in was different, it looked musty with a faint trace of sterling in guineas and schillings.

Began with a dinner and there were so many people that tables were also set up in front of armchairs and the dishes were introduced on behalf of the people who brought them, so our potato and prawn and cheese salads were how everyone got to know *Benny and me, and it gave a way of speaking to people easily. You look to see who stands up to make the bow and later you could say: "Oh hi, I liked your crepes!", and there it is.

By the way, making the salads before we went with *Benny was such fun. I get such a warm strong feeling for him, good to be in the world with him. Better even that he's a homo and I can't mess it all up and make it sour by fucking with him.

Felt like my senses were filled and overflowing in the party, I could barely digest so many interesting people. Also three, not two but three, smaller celebs who I'd not heard of, good thing I forgot their names again. Sometime after midnight, when the political and philosophical debates were all around me I met the coolest kids in London. I'll say that again, the Coolest Kids in London.

And now I need to sleep and I'll pick this up again tomorrow.

The Coolest Kids in London were the son and daughter of the hosts, maybe 16 and 18, and they had the whole top floor of their own. I can really relate with it, because it was similar for me when I was a teenager. They had come down to rescue people. It's funny, they weren't trendy, just dressed quite dull without labels or flair, but so clever and imaginative that it was if being with some really hip people. For me a fertile mind is charisma, and it doesn't matter if in them it hides behind their fringe of hair or the other seems deliberately to wear the ugliest glasses.

They had a central sitting room between their two sleeping rooms and it was their world, tidy but with character, sculptures and paintings all around, and cushions and blankets so you could tell they entertained a lot. Really it was a bit like if you saw the film 'The Dreamers', but without the sex and tension. Art Punk and Free Jazz and opera on a B&O stereo, huge speakers like furniture, powerful but soft.

Such a good vibe up there, was about six of us in all, I would have been the eldest if not for a guy maybe ten years older than me, the rest teenagers. I felt I was honoured to be among them, I guess every one of each will go on to be famous or influential in whatever they do. We talked a lot and did drawings, the Coolest Kids in London made tea and coffee during the time, no drugs except for caffeine and nicotine.

But when dawn came through the skylights and the room was full of laughter and ideas, it was like I was coming up on something pure and sharp.

Puts my life into some context right now. There can be so much more than just lying around on the sofa, waiting for it to happen to me.


» (No Subject)


It's good and right to miss something, for it not to be complete.

At the same time that *Gio's body, it's stoutness, coarseness and his age is a turn-on to me, another feeling is that I want a smoother man, in fact a boy.

Only recently I feel that I like boys so much. By this I mean young adults. Don't ask what age I mean by this, just that they are fully developed. But young and shy. If they're confident I want them naive with it. *Gio's confidence comes from experience, he knows all. Underneath him, outside of him I'm a scene that he replys, I'm sure of that. If a boy is confident it's that he doesn't know better, has had no opportunity before to fail. Isn't that a wonderful thing?

Or the shy boys can be ardent. Don't mistake that they're withdrawn and try not to catch your eye. Once you've got them in a place they feel safe they can surprise you, even scare you.

They can looks so clean, like statues. I think of one, right now from my memory, a ruffley mess on his head and downwards the palest skin and most elegant body. Even between his legs not so much hair. Twenty years of age I think, still such a boy but with the motive power of a man. His body I could see in a gallery and say: 'That's beautiful.'

Not so with *Gio, he has no aesthetic but a perverse one. But yet...


» (No Subject)


I noticed a thing today that's rare, in a street near here. The sound of a piano was coming from an open window. It was not played well, but it was a nice tune and I slowed down my walk to hear it.

In London I've hardly ever heard this. Music is recorded, or it's a street musician, playing for money. So many people here are keen to work and work and not make their own music, but buy CDs with the money they earned, while they get drunk perhaps. Perhaps they don't want to admit they have time for leisure.

Once I wanted to sing, but my voice isn't strong. I can carry the melody, but I've no power. I could train, I guess, but that's hard work.

Today I made a resolution to read nothing more in French or Dutch, nor to communicate in those languages if I possibly can't. I was in the park earlier listening to perhaps an exchange student and her friend, she was quite young and from Rouen and her English was perfect. When somebody at my age and experience can't communicate as well as that in English, I guess people could easily think I'm stupid or ignorant, I don't want them to be right.


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