the fear in infrastructure

those who have ever seen 'irreversible' by gaspard noe will probably remember the eerie rape scene in the tunnel under the street. next to it being a gripping scene that left you sick and disgusted with mankind - great acting, one shot only, oh my god you get the point - it perfectly illustrates the scary thing with infrastructure.

linear infrastructure that is.

you see, the annoying thing with long, enclosed lines of movement like tunnels, but also trains, is that you can see the exit, but you're not there yet. and anything can happen on the way there. well, they tell you anything can happen. of course no ghouls will jump out of the walls or paratroopers will descent through a freshy blown hole in the ceiling, but you never know.

man is prone to fear. fear of not having any options left. perhaps an analogy with a famous computer game is at its place here. we all know pacman. heck, pacman has been an essential part of many 80s youngsters youth. either at home or in the arcade, we all tried to eat all the balls and avoid getting caught by the ghosts. however, we were always given an overview of the game map, indicating where the ghosts were, instead imagine a 3D version of pacman. you are running through endless hallways, all exactly alike, and you don't know what is either behind or ahead of you. you just have an arrow indicating where the exit (kind of) is. this fear (i can already see myself doing this in a nightmare) of infrastructure as an exponent of fear is something i aim to investigate. can infrastructure dissolve fear? is visibility enough?

let's call it infearstructure.

but there is hope: just think about the light at the end of the tunnel - or, as two famous dutch comicbook characters (a duck and a canary) once said: 'and at the end of the tunnel, one big tropical swimming pool!'

potential weapons for a music festival

visited the 'city is ours' festival this saturday, at the terrain of the haagse hogeschool in the hague. music was good (digitalism, goose, freeform five) but the execution of the whole thing was kind of sketchy. it started at the door, where there was only one bouncer to search everybody. in these times of threat level red/orange/pink/whatever it is most important to make sure that nobody with evil intentions gets into your music festival, so there better be a good check. by one guy for 5000 people.

anyway, the festival was called 'the city is ours' because MTV (the great company that brought us room raiders, taildaters and other left-ear-in-right-ear-out programs) claimed that with organizing it, it would show the city how freedom, love and happiness could unite a city. for 30 euros though. on an island with a big fence around it... what struck me however, was that when you ordered a coke, you got one in a bottle. nothing wrong with it, you'd say, if you ignore the fact that they gave you a capless bottle. can i please have the cap, i asked. i'm sorry sir, the bartender said, we can't give you the cap because you can use it as a weapon then.

stop right there.

who would ever use this



as a weapon?? it's a goddamn freakin' PLASTIC coke bottle. we're not made of sugar are we? not allowing me to have a cap on my coke bottle is about the only reason that makes me want to use it as a weapon instead of something like:

A FESTIVAL FLYER



festival flyers piss me off, even more than dutch schlager songs inbetween performances. there's just too many of them, most of them are ugly and i don't want to go to a party with bubbling beats. festival flyers kill by the power of numbers, very very large numbers.

KIDS



why in the name of god would you want to bring your kids to a festival. if i come home, i am bruised, battered and kind of drunk. i don't want to imagine what could happen to your kids. plus, they run around too much. kids can be lethal in that they annoy other people that come to you to beat you up instead of your kids. i mean, they do look quite right?

NICKELBACK



simply seeing this photo makes me wanna kill myself.

FOOD



festival food is a slow killer. and it's a very nihilistic and existential one. only the next day, when you try to summarize all the beverages and snacks you consumed during the festival, and you suddenly realize that you probably ate stuff that even pigs ignore, you feel very small. festival food is normally made from the stuff they scrape off the bottom of frying pans, and then moulded, sprayed or pasted into a shape that more or less resembles regular food.

if there is anything that should not be allowed at a festival, it should be festival food.

to graduate ot not to graduate

for now, mostly not to graduate, due to:

wait. maybe i should restart this blog and write completely uninteresting stories about what i am trying to work on for my graduation project at the faculty of architecture at the TU Delft (don't click this link, this website sucks), aptly named: the global anti-global; on speed, security and space

my research will focus on the increasing influence fear has in the built environment of the cities around us, the streets we walk through and even the houses we live in.

this is what happens when fear takes over our lives:



in sydney, asian and pacific leaders have gathered for their annual(?) meeting on economics, killing people and (because it's totally cool to talk about) the environment. the city has been closed down at a cost of 100 million US dollars.

i understand that it is not favourable if any of the worldleaders gathered in sydney gets hurt (we don't want people going crazy over dead presidents do we now...) but from a completely paralyzed city no one benefits.

didn't some wise man once said "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself"? well, this is exactly what we are afraid of now, i'd say. when i walk around on amsterdam train station i see billboards of the train-ticketguy, and apparently, he also helps fighting terrorism. but i can still take my knife ('but sir, it's okay, it's a breadknife.") on a continental flight in the states.



anyway, the plan is to finally start using my blog regularly (yes, i'll give it another try) to report on my graduation process, and not to spend any time on either of these things:

facehunter
go fug yourself
entourage
facebook
youtube
flickr
archinect
wikipedia
soulseek
...

take the train! it gets you somewhere!

like wolvega, for example.

not that i wanted to, but it made me go there anyway. the story goes: spent the weekend on terschelling for a friends wedding. had my moustache blown off in the windy beach club where the party was, slept on the floor of a ginormous tent and had to take the train back...

as we all know (or should know, common knowledge like water boils at 100 degrees), the dutch railways never take you to your destination straight away. nope, they want you to see your beautiful country, they feel it is their responsibility to educate their passengers about the most arbitrary shit, like wolvega.

let's see what the web has to tell us about wolvega...

flickr:



and this is the caption: Libbe de Jong (53), known criminal, murdered in his house in Wolvega. Third murder in three weeks in Friesland, police does forensic investigation.

okay, wait. there apparently is crime going on in wolvega. you know what, wolvega probably sucks, but a little google-action on the dead guy might get interesting...

according to the web (in dutch) our good friend libbe de jong spent almost twenty years of his life in prison for rape, threats, violence and stalking. alltogether, a nice guy, kind of perfect son-in-law. if he wasn't doing time, he would sell sweaters on the market or at the stadium of soccerclub sc heerenveen. he would call himself 'de truienkoning' (the sweater king) and it is told he had a throne made entirely out of polo sport rugby sweaters. he also killed two guys over a lost game of poker. yes, poker. so it does incite violence. for those of you who know heroes, the amazing show on superpowers and other supernatural stuff, you probably remember the episode where hiro and the other guy end up in this basement with behind the door some guys playing a very animated game of poker. noise ensues and approximately 12.3 seconds later everybody in the game room is a flatliner.

so how would one kill another one in a game of poker? i mean, those cards don't look extremely lethal. you could cut the skin inbetween your fingers with one, but that's about it. and a chip at your head would barely leave a mark. there is a poker version called murder, but that ain't really deadly. there's these guys on youtube that seem to dress a dead guy in poker cards, but again, not really convincing.

except in vegas. in vegas we have the flesh bet game. a-ma-zing.

anyhow, this post is not really going anywhere. but to finish my story about wolvega, beautiful city in friesland, i'll keep it short: embrace. embrace the place.

the narrow netherlands

please hold your horses.

the netherlands have just become a tad more narrower. right as i started to believe the shrinking of my beloved country hade kind of come to a halt, one initiative put us right next to our already pretty petite neighbour, belgium.

in belgium, they leave the lights on. anywhere, anytime. belgium, together with the south of the netherlands and the north of france are one of the brightest areas in the world. we can't see any stars - maybe that explains our humble nature.



but can it explain this?



the dutch organization that monitors safety in traffic and advises the dutch government on the issue, 'veilig verkeer nederland', has just launched its newest bid in the very highly regarded competition of most retarded, most what-the-fuck-is-going-on-with-you-people proposal for the people in the street, us. you. me.

and this is it: to counter the increase in violence (both verbal and physical) in traffic, they propose a gesture to make, to explain you're sorry to whoever you just pissed off. they want you, him, her, me to lift our open hand in the air.

well, let me just do that right now, because i think this proposal is outright stupid and blind.

1. i already apologize when i fuck up. i don't draw a gun and start shooting around (something they sometimes happen to do in los angeles - other story). and i don't think a lot of people react different from me. it has a name: common sense.

2. why the fuck does this have to be presented as an official proposal. there is something as, once again, common sense. if you don't get this concept, please shoot yourself. this is not a threat, but just a suggestion because if you don't disappear from the surface of this planet it would be a straight waist of oxygen, water and space - things a lot of people can obviously make better use of than you.

3. and this is the cherry on the pie.
the dutch union for sign language strongly disagrees with the proposed sign, because - apparently, not that i care a flying fuck - the official sign for sorry is circling your fist in front of your chest. kind of like stirring the soup, i guess. while driving.

this stupid kind of ruckus once again acknowledges the dutch's image as 'best boy in class'.

biggest turd would problaby be better.

back to my polder.

to ask a chinaman

since i had acquired so many books, clothing and other shenanigans during my stay in the city of angels, i figured it wouldn't all fit in the suitcase i brought to los angeles. given this problem being a problem of supply and demand, i had to figure if i was in a buyers' market or a sellers' market.

demand - space to store my stuff
supply - one measly suitcase

well, what other people know more about supplying demanding citizens that the noble chinese? where else to find a cheap, spacious suitcase that would at least be sturdy enough to rock it out all the way back to amsterdam, than in chinatown, north of the 101, just around broadway. not much later, we were standing in front of a nice collection of suitcases, all very eloquently prized.

the vendor, however, was not of the same eloquence. meaning: he spoke fuck-o english. it was a very short talk with him answering all our questions with "yes, very pretty bag, cheap!" before i made the purchase.

if this guy answers all questions in exactly the same way, why did the conversation not go a bit more like this?

we: "so, would you recommend this suitcase for transporting a chopped-up body, or do we need a smaller, second suitcase for the head?"

him: "yes, very pretty bag, cheap!"

we: "but i think you want to remove the family members that are still stuck in that corner first, right?"

him: "yes, very pretty bag, cheap!"

we: "is it fireproof?"

him: "yes, very pretty bag, cheap!"

we: "..."

anyway, you can probably guess that this whole scheme very quickly slid down the slippery slopes of stereotyping and more of the stuff you don't want people to know about when you're running for congress.

if this sounds interesting to you, my dear readers, i would recommend going to the pearl market (hong qiao) in beijing. just see this image and imagine...



5 stories full of cheap knock offs.

oh, and the suitcase i bought cost me 18 bucks.

superbowl say yeah!

i just, accidentally, happened to be in the US of A during the superbowl. and, ow how super it was...

as a reminder or maybe a refreshment, understand this: watching sports in the us is not just about supporting your team, as it would be in old europe. it is a social thing. and it is big.

every year, cbs (lucky fuckers) brags about airing the biggest happening in television. more than 1 billion (1.000.000.000) people apparently take some time of to watch this game. well, i never knew there were that many people in the world that had a tee-vee, not even mentioning rocking cbs on channel 2. so cbs wants a lot of money from advertisers, to get even.

because, let's make this sure: watching the superbowl on tv suck. big time. donkey balls. now i have to say that i have never been a big fan of football (i tried to watch the last two superbowls - kick-off at 2 am CET) but damn! this sport was never ment to be televised! but if they stop the game every twenty friggin' seconds just because some retard in a black-and-white sweater saw one of the guys catch the ball and hit the ground with both knees before running off towards the enemy's endzone, i might as well get a drink and a sandwich.

and that is exactly why the superbowl (or suPPerbowl) is still going strong. it brings in a lot of money. together with the three people i watched the game with, we spent 40 bucks on beer, tortilla chips, fries and cheesy corn-on-a-cob (a recommendation, nevertheless) and in the end we felt nothing but disappointment. come on, what ever happened in this game?? the indiana(polis) (indiana for short, because indianapolis is way too difficult for the average wal-mart-shopping, superbowl-watching american) colts won, but for whatever i care, manchester united would have won with a 12-goal difficient! okay, our reception was assured through having the cable hanging from a wire behind the sink, but even that couldn't stop me and the others from experiencing some genuine american deception...

and it still amazes me: americans spend a (probable) whopping 400 million on this shit, but at the same time, the economy suffers from a lot of slacking on post-superbowl-monday, when we all talk about peyton manning's incredible passing and the bucketload of fumbles and turnovers on the side of the bears of some nice cup of "fresh"-brewed starbucks coffee.

...and than i haven't even discussed all the statistics stuff. what's up with that??