The last time it rained in Maastricht was March 22nd. That’s what they say on the news. April has never been this hot. I’ll mind global warming on Monday. I’m at the end of one week’s vacation, spent in the Netherlands. For the last two days, I’ve been at home, in bed or on my couch, due to a minor me-style stupidity relating my left leg. These are a bunch of sentences I wrote down/listened to/thought about this week.
Spring break: a feeling that brings back memories of when I was left alone in a room at a party with a bald guy who didn’t say a word and kept on drinking his beer. We are at the wrong church! Life is worth taking risks. It’s all about limits. What’s sadder? People crying at the funeral over the deceased or because of the choir’s lack of keeping tune? “They did their best” is how a family member summed it up. “She was my favorite sister”, my aunt told us. The village looks cute. I could live there if I were different. We probably went to too many funerals, my brother and sister and me. Or we watched too many movies.
Millions of tiny creatures lost their lives on my windshield today. I can hardly see the road. I’m making my way through their bodily fluids.
My finger is on the button. I’m done sticking up for you. You’re right, it’s nothing personal. At least we agree on that. I’m so sick of it all. At least the adrenaline rush is good. As is the story of the weed I found in the mailbox at work. If Bill O’Reilly only knew. I can go anywhere.
There’s only so much you can learn in one place. But I am nowhere, which is good. I used to think that you can fight for your dreams to come true and I still think I was right, but I forgot about all the time it takes to gather yourself and get up on your feet and be the one you are. It takes so much energy to hunt for the nonexisting rabbit. I need to sleep first.
Queen’s day is when everything’s orange and people dance on the streets. I arrive in Utrecht at 8pm. I’m the only sober person left in the city. There are people everywhere. We end up in a bar with a live Irish folk band, and old people dancing to the music. By the time this guy, Paul, and I join in, I’m quite drunk too. We’re great Irish folk dancers. “My brother is gay”, he tells me. I ask him if his brother is called Paul as well. “My parents wouldn’t do such a thing”, he says. Later on, we ask a friendly man in the parking lot for directions to the parking lot. “This ís the parking lot” the man says. “Which floor are you on, it’s P1 through P4”. I tell him we’re on P5. “That’s not possible” the man says, “show me your ticket.” “Shit, who has our ticket?”, I ask the others. Paul tells me I have it. I start searching. My sister makes us walk on. We came by foot. But it’s conversations like this that make me happy, I try to explain.
Everything is fine. And it doesn’t even matter from which angle I look at it. From the people around me to the coffee on my table. Amsterdam. As long as it stays on the positive side of the scale, greed can be a great feeling. We immerse ourselves in abundance. Lunch, shops, sneakers, shirts, books, magazines, cheese cake, loud music, tapas, cocktails. Remember, it’s all about limits. Or lack thereof. The trick seems to be to grab hold, hold on, and let go. And to start over. Hell, who wouldn’t want to stay in a place where meals were served three times a day?
If I could put you in a frame, I’d draw you smiling.
Schiphol airport. People who come home. I used to come here and feel sick and scared for airplanes falling out of the sky. Now I feel anxious. Where can I go? We wait some more. I buy a shirt at the gate. We are watching another family, just back from the Great Barrier Reef, it seems, when we finally see her walking in the opposite direction. Almost missed her. But it’s no problem, she doesn’t recognize us either, at first. We head for our regular coffee place. I still have to tell her about the dead mouse in her kitchen that I was too repulsed with to remove. “You are my favorite sister, too”, I tell her. She is the only one who can make me wear socks in bed in this heat.
