Coots

25 March:

Today was the first real day of spring and we walked to the Euro park with Johannes the Dutch, Dado the Serb and Gary the spritely Canadian. These guys are all relatively old dudes which was funny for me and Jax cuz it was just us and the international geezers. What lovely company though. Refreshing to hear stories and observations unlike our own.

We sat down in front of the still water of a pond, gazed at the sun spraying through the still bare trees and discussed coots. Coots are unlike any bird you'll see in Toronto. They're black with white beaks and really huge feet. They squeak like toys. I love them because they will constantly remind me of here in the way that magpies will forever remind me of Provence. I was in hell yesterday but today I feel better and tomorrow's another day. Adaptability is a prized virtue.

"Follow Your Bliss"

March 23:

"Follow your bliss". He is well traveled, a face wrinkled like a half-clenched hand, lizard-like. He speaks of swimming with dolphins, looking at them and "looking into the eye of god". When he gets off the boat he leaps, jumps, swings, like a young person. Like my father used to do. He speaks of the environment and the necessity to 'save our species'. He spent most of his life in PR and marketing new models of Hondas and making loads of $ in so doing. So, now after this life, he can tell me to "follow my bliss". Bliss, swimming with dolphins, traveling...doesnt come easily when one has a 30 000$ University loan and is earning 50 Euro a week. I live in a closet on a 'theatre boat'docked in a cold and wet port town in the Nether-regions. Its funny how someone can live his life working for a corporate giant - contributing to this Babylon System and then, once the wealth is accumulated, he can afford to extricate himself from it. He does so and tells us to 'follow our bliss'. Hmmmm. Maybe you need to be a part of it to realize how unfulfilling it all is, and then you learn to run away...but how to run away and enjoy without the means. Hmmmmm.
Nice sentiments, very pleasant and informed person, one of the nicest Ive met so far on this adventure. Much more gracious and social than those that are 'hosting' me. Its amazing how the concept of this production and venue appealed to me so much - a production (fire, dancing, flying, music) performed on the boat, from town to town, bringing theatre to 'those that normally cannot access it', about displaced peoples, refugees finding nothing close to refuge in the West...a hypothetical 'containment camp' a la Guantanamo Bay on US soil...their plight sung soulfully at dusk on the deck of the ship...

This place is run like any office, with a clear hierarchy and delineation of importance granted to people. Self-righteous folk, disdain for religion and vegetarians. Fuck. People try to be so important in their causes. It just seems to result in self-fulfilling efforts. Self gratification. They cant even look me in the eyes when they are talking to me!!!!
People that think they are better, or more clairvoyant, more 'visionary' than others end up defeating their own purpose and wind up as closed minded preachers. Exactly what you reject!!!! The more I try to find something in this world, a place to be, to fit, a home, the more dissapointed and alienated I feel. Humans are a virus, slowly rotting this place, slowly choking it off from its inate perfection.

There is a goat out there named Bibo. He lives outside of Bremen, Germany. I want to go and take Bibo with me across Europe, walking, seeing it all, no one bothering me because I dont care. Not for your selfish desires. And no, I wont eat Bibo if I get hungry. I'll let him eat the grass and I'll sit and watch and eventually someday someone will come by with some extra vegetable soup.

Rotterdam: the armpit of Benelux

March 20th

Amsterdam is a darling of a city, tinged with the sinister glowing red lights, women hawking their wares, bouncing on their plastic chairs, sanitary spray nearby, coffee in hand...another day in the office.

There are things sticking out of every which corner, sculptures, iguanas, faces, hanging stuff, colours...and I did it sober this time - imagine that. The buildings are actually crooked. Everything is so random and I LOVE the random. Amsterdam is really a special place. Will write more about it.

Here in the port of Rotterdam - meeting eccentric people - drinking wine I cant afford, reading about Van Gogh and somehow, perhaps completely selfishly and in my own imagination, feeling a connection to him. He was born in this grey, wet, northern European clime (where I am now). He escaped down to the south of France to find clarity , colours, intensity, sunshine. Fresh herbs and burning wood tinging the air, lending it a distinct aroma. Hearing the magpies squeak on a crisp winter day (as I did when I lived in Aix-en-Provence, wandering the cobblestones and trying to absorb the beauty around me when inside was so dark). He was depressed and mentally ill. Not that I am, all the time anyways. He started his career relatively late in life, was about 26.

The Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam is a dreary place. Its grey and cold. Van Goghs paintings are often beautiful and colourful and do radiate a certain amount of warmth, at their most inspired. But there are also many uninspired works, placed in the museum because of who made them and not the quality of the art itself. Whatever, art is subjective I guess. In any case, its a sad place and Van Gogh had a pretty tragic existence, the voices in his head plaguing him, the visions scaring him when nothing was really wrong. And then you read about him, see his sensitive, beautiful and vulnerable images...I was actually feeling really emotional trying to imagine his life...and now....throngs of people cramming into this building to see his uninspired discards...just because it was him. Imagine if he were to know. He'd probably be dissapointed that the building is such a cold and dreary place.

Amsterdam is absolutely fabulous.

How people celebrate my Birthday

March 17th is a happy holiday in the grey winter months where people around the world gather to celebrate my birthday. All around the world you'll find people gathering, slamming beers together, dancing jigs to toast me a Happy Birthday. Im pretty lucky that way. Even over here in the Nether-regions they've made a tradition of it. I found that out this year.

Santa's Air Rage

I could see this equation wasnt going to work from its inception. Santa's beer gut was a bit to pronounced to be sitting in economy on a charter airline. He could barely fit into the seat, but when the lady in front wanted to sleep...I could see the frustration in his face when the seat started pushing against his gut. When the flight attendant came around and asked if he wanted a blanket he screamed Ï WANT THIS CHAIR TO BE MOVED UP!!!! Everyone apparently gets the same amount of space so you cant ask someone to not recline their seat. He tried to get up to take a piss and it was such a struggle for him to emerge from his trap. Once gone, the lady reclined even farther. When he returned, he was squeezing and huffing and jiggling the seat so violently, so the woman reclined more and thats when Santa snapped and almost snapped the lady's head off. The seat flew forward in such a quick violent motion, I saw her head whip forward, then she started screaming for the flight attendant. Santa was angry, his wife was upset, a guy in front told him to pay more for 'comfort class'cuz theres no business class on Zoom airlines. Finally the flight attendant calmed everyone down. My first witness to Air Rage. Santa's Air rage. And thus the journey begins. My attempt to be a professional gypsy and work for the circus on a theatre boat. I have huge doubts swirling through my head as we fly over the Atlantic on a cold March night. I think Im too old to be fucking around like this, but then I think that this is a good cause. These boat people are trying to put on a theatre production, involving dance and music and acrobatics, about the plight of refugees and immigrants in Western countries and a hypothetical 'containment camp' in the US for 'terror suspects' and Im pretty intrigued as to how it will all pan out. Surely these people will be open and warm and will make the time fulfilling despite the rough conditions and 50/E a week "salary"...

Apologies from the drenched low lands

Oh Im the worst nerd ever. I had all these lofty goals of writing my many musings from the circus here in the low-lands. Dreamscapes of reflective canals and fields of brilliance, tulips and blue skies with huge explosive white clouds. Its still cold and wet and grey most of the time. Adjustment is always a stuggle with me, Im stubborn. Ok. I will do better. This is just the start. Lots to say. Grey skies sometimes brew inspiration, not happiness, but thoughts.